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April 5, 2012
April 4, 2012
April 3, 2012
April 2, 2012
March 23, 2012
The Agony and the Ecstasy of the Truth
Recently, news broke that Mike Daisey's report for TAL was partly falsified. So much response to that on all fronts. Well actually I don't think I had a real life conversation about it, but I saw multiple blog posts and articles (is the difference between an article and a blog post only who publishes it?) and tweets. All the sentiments can be mostly summed up in these two tweets of @KateHarding:
___________________________________________________________________________________
Kate
Harding
@KateHarding
Kate
Harding
@KateHarding
(sorry, I don't feel like going through that whole Print Screen business right now)
So Daisey mostly told the truth about the conditions at Foxconn but was not true to facts* when discussing his meetings with Foxconn employees / injured people, notable the guy who swipes the iPad open and calls it "magic" or the people with the health damages from the dries-faster-than-alcohol cleaner. This is a problem because it's very easy to make up something that is compelling and it's much harder to find the compelling nugget in a fact-based story.
*by "facts" I mean THINGS THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED
For example, to hear that 90% of what Planned Parenthood does is abortion is much more arresting than 3%. This figure makes you move, makes you shout WHAT and clammor for more information. Three percent is like, whatever, fine, that's what I expect I guess or something, who actually cares, PP does all kinds of health services. So when you learn it IS 3%, and that you'd been fed 90% for inflammatory purposes (Jon Kyl said he wasn't trying to be "factually accurate"), you never forget that it's 3%.
I guess what can be good about distortion--or any kind of aggrandized statement--is that distortion garners attention and press. Maybe Daisey would have better luck passing off his carelessness as determined misinformation to galvanize activists, or Apple, to take action.
A couple weeks ago the NYTimes Book Review published a front-page article on John D'Agata's twists of FACTS towards a shady aim: "beauty," that elusive beast. He claims that as an essayist, not a reporter, he doesn't have an obligation to tell "the truth." Hey, you know me; you know I'm a big believer in subjectivity, multiple truths, and conflicting realities. One would be naive to think we don't live in a world of multiple realities: look at the US Congress, can't barely do a thing, everyone thinking their reason is the best reason! My problem with D'Agata is that he's trying to change all these small bits of information to make a better story, and that's not good writing. That's not effort. That doesn't produce art. And the base things he's trying to change to make his story more compelling aren't even a big deal to begin with.
Daisey changed compelling facts in the name of truth. D'Agata changed uninteresting facts in the name of art. And there's nothing more to this post than that these manipulations are a recent coincidence I've been thinking about.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Kate
Harding
@KateHarding
A fiction writer's challenge is to tell a
story that rings true. A nonfiction writer's is to make the best story
out of what happened. (1/2)
Kate
Harding
@KateHarding
Making shit up and calling it nonfiction
rejects both challenges. It's about manipulating the audience, not
creating art.
___________________________________________________________________________________(sorry, I don't feel like going through that whole Print Screen business right now)
So Daisey mostly told the truth about the conditions at Foxconn but was not true to facts* when discussing his meetings with Foxconn employees / injured people, notable the guy who swipes the iPad open and calls it "magic" or the people with the health damages from the dries-faster-than-alcohol cleaner. This is a problem because it's very easy to make up something that is compelling and it's much harder to find the compelling nugget in a fact-based story.
*by "facts" I mean THINGS THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED
For example, to hear that 90% of what Planned Parenthood does is abortion is much more arresting than 3%. This figure makes you move, makes you shout WHAT and clammor for more information. Three percent is like, whatever, fine, that's what I expect I guess or something, who actually cares, PP does all kinds of health services. So when you learn it IS 3%, and that you'd been fed 90% for inflammatory purposes (Jon Kyl said he wasn't trying to be "factually accurate"), you never forget that it's 3%.
I guess what can be good about distortion--or any kind of aggrandized statement--is that distortion garners attention and press. Maybe Daisey would have better luck passing off his carelessness as determined misinformation to galvanize activists, or Apple, to take action.
A couple weeks ago the NYTimes Book Review published a front-page article on John D'Agata's twists of FACTS towards a shady aim: "beauty," that elusive beast. He claims that as an essayist, not a reporter, he doesn't have an obligation to tell "the truth." Hey, you know me; you know I'm a big believer in subjectivity, multiple truths, and conflicting realities. One would be naive to think we don't live in a world of multiple realities: look at the US Congress, can't barely do a thing, everyone thinking their reason is the best reason! My problem with D'Agata is that he's trying to change all these small bits of information to make a better story, and that's not good writing. That's not effort. That doesn't produce art. And the base things he's trying to change to make his story more compelling aren't even a big deal to begin with.
Daisey changed compelling facts in the name of truth. D'Agata changed uninteresting facts in the name of art. And there's nothing more to this post than that these manipulations are a recent coincidence I've been thinking about.
March 13, 2012
Dancers
Yesterday I heard about the dance performance called "The Trash Project" choreographed by Allison Orr.
Julia, this is the epitome of what you mean when you say that anyone could be considered a "dancer." In case the video doesn't work, sanitation workers from the Austin area are the performers here, using actual garbage trucks and movements that go into the work of daily life. Is this too literal an interpretation of "dance as life"? That is a question for those more knowledgeable about dance, however, watching the clips remind me of how exciting and thrilling it is to see big utility vehicles as a young child.
Julia, this is the epitome of what you mean when you say that anyone could be considered a "dancer." In case the video doesn't work, sanitation workers from the Austin area are the performers here, using actual garbage trucks and movements that go into the work of daily life. Is this too literal an interpretation of "dance as life"? That is a question for those more knowledgeable about dance, however, watching the clips remind me of how exciting and thrilling it is to see big utility vehicles as a young child.
March 12, 2012
Big Day March 9
March 9th, Friday, was a big day. Lots of coincidences. I could not believe it.
Start it off: "When I'm Gone"
Recently I began reading Just Kids by Patti Smith. The book is a chronicle of her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe and their concurrent rise in the art world. When I first picked it up I read 65 pages without stopping. I completed the whole book in about a week, often reading at work while I scanned archival WWII documents or current valid photo IDs. I finished on March 9th, 24 years to day Robert died.
On the train on the way home I decided to listen to Horses. I must have taken it off my iPod because all that exists under P is Phil Ochs. On the Manhattan bridge my phone rang. I answered it--my sister--a family friend passed away--as soon as we hung up, Mom called from California. The train was moving slowly so I was able to take both calls. It is still March 9th. Two deaths on March 9th.
I put my headphones back in and it was Phil singing When I'm Gone, about who will do the political art/works when he's gone. It could have been any song as iPod was on Phil's "There But for Fortune" album shuffle. I kind of turned it off and sat stunned thinking about impermanence and the universe.
Later that night I went to see Laurie Anderson perform Delusions* (that's your cue--switch it up) at Pace University, downtown on the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge. How can you describe music? Laurie's not just music, but video, video on screens and a couch, and tiny with spiky hair and a suitish outfit and sparkle shoes. And Fenway Bergamot also--every scary robot voice from any scary AI movie. *This is not the best recording but I found it the most resonant now, writing, and it has many segments of the performance.
Laurie mentioned the priest who helped her when her mother died. She went back to Chicago. The priest told her how to say goodbye to her mother--Laurie said she couldn't say she loved her; the priest told her to say she cared. Laurie said the priest was also Robert's priest. Robert's! The same Robert's! It was still March 9.
Start it off: "When I'm Gone"
Recently I began reading Just Kids by Patti Smith. The book is a chronicle of her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe and their concurrent rise in the art world. When I first picked it up I read 65 pages without stopping. I completed the whole book in about a week, often reading at work while I scanned archival WWII documents or current valid photo IDs. I finished on March 9th, 24 years to day Robert died.
I put my headphones back in and it was Phil singing When I'm Gone, about who will do the political art/works when he's gone. It could have been any song as iPod was on Phil's "There But for Fortune" album shuffle. I kind of turned it off and sat stunned thinking about impermanence and the universe.
Later that night I went to see Laurie Anderson perform Delusions* (that's your cue--switch it up) at Pace University, downtown on the Manhattan side of the Brooklyn Bridge. How can you describe music? Laurie's not just music, but video, video on screens and a couch, and tiny with spiky hair and a suitish outfit and sparkle shoes. And Fenway Bergamot also--every scary robot voice from any scary AI movie. *This is not the best recording but I found it the most resonant now, writing, and it has many segments of the performance.
Laurie mentioned the priest who helped her when her mother died. She went back to Chicago. The priest told her how to say goodbye to her mother--Laurie said she couldn't say she loved her; the priest told her to say she cared. Laurie said the priest was also Robert's priest. Robert's! The same Robert's! It was still March 9.
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