Images of Death

Virginia Woolfe wrote about it, Susan Sontag wrote about it…it came back again today, at home, eating lunch with my mother, listening absently to the radio – joe duffy – a pinch of salt – there were people calling in, as per usual, in (as expected) distressed tones – their voices sharp with anger, or damp with desperation.

Ruffled voices. Tinny voices. Coming across as whinging voices…until your ear tunes in – and their words become significant. Some were lamenting the floods which the heavy rains had brought. The graveyards were flooding around Dublin – their loved ones remains sodden all the more – they were fearful of their escape, their exposure, presumably.

A woman spoke of how she’d seen the flood waters rising through the football pitches that stretched out in front of her house. The storm drains on the bungalo lined cul de sac were clogged – untended. She had called the local authorities to warn them – to request that they send her sandbags as soon as possible…there was a promise but no response. She had, just the day before, finished redecorating from the floods five years previous. ‘At a loss’ I’d call her tone.

I don’t usually listen to this radio programme – as I said, it comes across as a lot of moaning individuals, eager to complain about something. But in essence, they are legitimate woes, in one way or another. Some exclamations, however, lose their perspective on a wider field of pain and suffering.

Some complained of the flooding graveyard – others complained of the graveyard toilets being locked…using one lament to exaggerate another, in a sense.

Later, another caller raised the issue of photographing the dead…or recently deceased. Those caught in the moment of their untimely death – in this case in the flood waters of a river in England…the man was photographed face down, bloated by the swollen river. He had been on a Stag weekend from what I could gather, though I may be mixing my stories. The woman caller was expressing her horror that such an image be published in a “family paper”. The Radio host, not notable for broadcasting his own critical opinion or point of view, but rather for his careful management and slucing of others, interjected as more callers entered in on the subject. He begged the question as to why it was not okay for an image of an Irish man drowned in a swollen river to be printed in a Daily Paper, and why it seemed perfectly plausible and normal that images from the growing conflict between Georgia and Russia should be spread across front pages World Wide? He pulled in a wider frame of reference. And this is a point which Sontag (and Woolfe) raised in her writing – Images of War are abundant…Images of everyday accidental death are taboo. Why?

The talk show – known nationally for it’s disgruntled overtones – raised a fundamental question about spectatorship and war, and the Image of Death. The talk show, a serious political entity, permitted a questioning, however superficially interrogated, of a normative practice in journalistic photography – peddling images of war and images of death, and the subtle differences between these two and their wider acknowledgment in society. The talk show scorned – and yet, as Hannah Arendt put it:

“Whenever the relevance of speech is at stake, matters become political by definition, for speech is what makes man a political being.” (The Human condition)

Extracted from The Writing Workshop 12th September 2008.

the recklessness of infinite possibility

Writing in war/about war:

“I remember very clearly the moment I would write it… From the dance room came the drumming of Johnnie’s piano. Behind me I could hear the voices of Paul and Jimmy talking to Willi, and Paul’s sudden young laugh. I was filled with such a dangerous delicious intoxication that I could have walked straight off the steps into the air, climbing on the strength of my own drunkenness into the stars. And the intoxication, as I knew even then, was the recklessness of infinite possibility, of danger, the secret ugly frightening pulse of war itself, of the death that we all wanted, for each other and for ourselves.” – Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook

war

late O.E. (c.1050), wyrre, werre, from O.N.Fr. werre “war” (Fr. guerre), from Frank. *werra, from P.Gmc. *werso (cf. O.S. werran, O.H.G. werran, Ger. verwirren “to confuse, perplex”). Cognates suggest the original sense was “to bring into confusion.” There was no common Gmc. word for “war” at the dawn of historical times. O.E. had many poetic words for “war” (guð, heaðo, hild, wig, all common in personal names), but the usual one to translate L. bellum was gewin “struggle, strife” (related to win). Sp., Port., It. guerra are from the same source; Romanic peoples turned to Gmc. for a word to avoid L. bellum because its form tended to merge with bello- “beautiful.” The verb meaning “to make war on” is recorded from 1154. First record of war time is 1387. Warpath (1775) is from N.Amer. Ind., as are war-whoop (1761), war-paint (1826), war-path (1775), and war-dance (1757). War crime first attested 1906. War chest is attested from 1901; now usually fig. War games translates Ger. Kriegspiel (see kriegspiel).

Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

gun

1339, gunne “an engine of war that throws rocks, arrows or other missiles,” probably a shortening of woman’s name Gunilda, found in M.E. gonnilde “cannon” and in an Anglo-L. reference to a specific gun from a 1330 munitions inventory of Windsor Castle (“…una magna balista de cornu quae Domina Gunilda …”), from O.N. Gunnhildr, woman’s name (from gunnr + hildr, both meaning “war, battle”); the identification of women with powerful weapons is common historically (cf. Big Bertha, Brown Bess, etc.); meaning shifted with technology, from cannons to firearms as they developed 15c. Great guns (cannon, etc.) distinguished from small guns (such as muskets) from c.1408. First applied to pistols and revolvers 1744. Meaning “thief, rascal” is from 1858. The verb meaning “to shoot with a gun” is from 1622; the sense of “to accelerate an engine” is from 1930. Gun-shy is 1884, originally of sporting dogs. Son of a gun is originally nautical. Gun-metal (commonly an alloy of copper and zinc) used attributively of a dull blue-gray color since 1905. Gunboat is from 1793; gunboat diplomacy is from 1927, originally with reference to China.

Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper

just a small excerpt from something I’m working on…

Now to a good memory:

her standing by the nightstand, she’s fingering something, a necklace, it’s coiled like a snake under her hand, a single white bead playing between her thumb and forefinger. Hip jutting out, under pale pink nightgown worn thin and soft from so many nights- the thin lace is broken on the shoulder, its end falls limp just by the tiny freckle near her collarbone. It rises with every breath in, it sinks in her sigh. Her lips are pursed, serious, in concentration, some thought, some nagging idea, it’s taking her focus from everything else. She’s staring full gaze at the wall, she’s staring at the indefinable phrase- unutterable proclamation. Her fingers keep rolling that bead, they keep at it like they’re in prayer- worry- her worry bead- but this moment- this moment- is the moment before he knows what she’s worried about. And it’s a beautiful memory- this moment- his most intimate- when it was only the two of them- the future weight about to crash down- but not yet- not yet.

She turns her head, her hair falls cross her face- she releases the bead to brush it away. Her mouth opens- there’s a pause- a breath (the last gasp)- her voice comes out

and stop.

That’s all- that’s all that’s necessary- in remembering- that’s all for now.

- Jessamyn Fiore, Excerpt from The Pessimist

roots: David Bradshaw

“Ruger AC 556K—-Mini-14. “K” stands for “kurtz”—-13″ barrel. Caliber .223 Renington. Full auto. Winter 1981-82. Gun got so hot that touching the trigger without a glove was uncomfortable. I call this the “gut hold”—-wherein you snuggle the pistol grip just above your navel for over-the-bore pointing.”

- David Bradshaw

Everyone has their influences- and I was lucky enough to have grown up around a full fleet of artistic characters who had mainly sprung (creatively speaking) from the streets and lofts of downtown NYC 1970s. And there were many paths taken, diverging roads that led from that spot and crossed the world- and in my memory- in my heart- a few of these stars will always burn bright. Like David Bradshaw- who when I was small seemed so unbelievably tall- huge in my mind- strong- with his long speech and clear eyes- great stories, great laugh, great heart. David is a true artist through and through he creates constantly like breathing he travels always on the road writing crossing up and down from Louisiana to Vermont and back again in his red pick up truck yellow legal pad on the steering wheel dog at his side. His art is guns and explosives- steel and smoke- precision. I remember traveling to northern Vermont to watch him detonate sheets of steel in the four foot snow- the power causing the metal to curl open like a flower- stood up as sculpture the sheets were at the same time so fragile and so strong- such force. And later in life I again journeyed to northern Vermont this time in the summer to join many others, and David, in shooting an old piano- another memorable experience. David teaching myself and my friend how to shoot- from A-Z – to learn to respect the weapon, to control it. I know to others it sounds odd, but knowing David is makes perfect sense- his work is profound- it always sparks conversation- debate- this power our power- combined with control- discipline- focused energy- the discipline is the power- control is the force. He has been giving me works of art my entire life- signed photos- writings on yellow legal paper- steel with bullet hole- a five wine bottle instruction set on how to make a Molotov cocktail- a portrait of Burroughs- I love and treasure every one. He sent me this image today with the accompanying text- it is the first virtual artwork I have received from him- the first non tangible piece- and so in recognition I’d like to hang it up on this virtual wall- this blog- and say quite simply that he is an artist who inspires me.

Jessamyn

the problem with questions…

I’m inlcined to think that most if not all of the difficulties that have in the past puzzled and deceived philosophers and blocked the way to knowledge are entirely of our own making. We have first raised a dust, and then we complain that we can’t see.

George Berkley_Principles of Human Knowledge

Formal Movements

assess

1423, "to fix the amount (of a tax, fine, etc.)," from Anglo-Fr. assesser,
from M.L. assessareassidere "to sit beside"
(and thus to assist in the office of a judge), from ad- "to" + sedere
"to sit." One of the judge's assistant's jobs was to fix the amount of
a fine or tax. Meaning "to estimate the value of property for the
purpose of taxing it" is from 1809; transf. sense of "to judge the
value of a person, idea, etc." is from 1934.

assess. Dictionary.com. Online Etymology Dictionary. Douglas Harper, Historian. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/assess

(accessed: July 07, 2008).

J.D.F.

“Any sense of ‘wholeness’ experienced in the modern world is nothing more than a dangerous illusion.”

Merce Cunningham & the Politics of Perception

by Roger Copeland (Merce Cunningham, ed. Germano Celant, CHARTA, 1999)

JDF