Though research has yet to strictly begin, I’ve been trying to put some thought in order about my vaguely defined metaphor/composition/tachnology project. Here are some of those preliminary thoughts:
Loyal readers know the project was inspired by an earlier post about the metaphors I’d encountered thus far in reading rhetcomp/new media scholarship. As I first thought of the project, I imagined it would be centered on a claim something like this:
In an effort to introduce new media-based compositional practices to a skeptical, if not hostile, tradition of print-literacy based academic writing, composition and new media theorists have relied on metaphor to describe potential models for new media work in the composition classroom and beyond. The use of these metaphors reflect the discipline’s awareness of the skepticism with which it is met, and something about remediating composition with new media practices yadda yadda justify to the academy blabbity blab.
Okay, so even there it wasn’t really that fleshed out. While the project may still have that kind of claim, my meeting with Rice (Like My Dinner with Andre?) suggested new and more intriguing (read: demanding) directions in which to take the project. I think Rice’s suggestions are more interesting (and demanding) because they resist the cynical and simple urge toward polemic, and leave the project with more ways to inspire future work (my own, that is).
The virtue of serendipity in research: while searching for an antonym for monologic in a previous post, I discovered the theory of polylogic. To summarize, from the Wikipedia entry on the subject:
Polylogic is an inveted term by Peter Krieg, when trying to put in words the technology invented by Erez Elul.
Here is what Peter Kreig says: Polylogic is the integration of more than one logic domain in a single structure that still allows differentiation between each logic domain. Polylogic is not a new logic, since it respects the rules of logic in each domain, but rather an architecture of logic that allows the coexistence of different logic domains within one structure. A characteristic of a polylogic structure is that every node has at least two parents instead of just one in a classical logic structure. A polylogic structure therefore cannot be described as a tree or a hierachy, but as a forest or an intersecting system of different hierarchies (meta-hierarchy).
Polylogic, then, might be argued to be the logic inherent to the network; each node retains its own necessary logic while connecting to other that retain their own logic.
Why is this significant for my thoughts on metaphor? Well, I was originally thinking that one thing to argue would be that new media comp scholars have each proposed models of remediating comp studies without any individual model taking precedence. But this reflects a monologic understanding of the stakes of the discourse, and, further, I don’t really think that Sirc advocates virtual urbanism over Rice hip-hop pedagogy, nor does Rice trumpet is model over Ulmer’s mystory. The topos that each occupies in such studies is inherently polylogic, and each describes one kind of model, one kind of composition, that instructors can employ pedagogically.
So it is not the case that there are various models competing for the hegemonic stance over theorizing new media comp, but rather that new media comp can be understood as a place of polylogic (both many voices and many logics) copiousness–to borrow from another colleague.
Also, in the "Score one for obvious" column: topos, space, voice. . .all of these terms which rhetcomp uses reflexively are metaphors. Now what do I do with that?
Loyal readers shouldn’t express surprise at the awful pun today: you should have seen it coming.
Some afterthoughts from the HASTAC panel "Remediating English Studies" held today in the UGL’s Bernath Auditorium:
First: I was disappointed Grusin was unable to attend; I would like to have heard his comments about his work (although Shaviro did a fine job explaining the theory of remediation, I thought). I’m already somewhat familiar with Rice’s and Shaviro’s work (see, oh, I dunno, any random post herein), and I was looking forward to hearing more about Grusin’s scholarship. I’m sure another opportunity to do so will present itself anon.
Second: While I think both Rice and Shaviro had valuable contributions, I admit I didn’t hear much that presented something new for me to think about. This is not a failure of scholarship on either speaker’s part, to be sure; rather, many of the issues they addressed I’ve already read/seen/heard explored in their work elsewhere. So, maybe I wasn’t part of the audience that the panel was aimed at. Nevertheless, it never hurts to hear familiar ideas in new ways (to be remediated?).
Still, a couple of points I found worth considering:
I find Rice’s interest in eroding boundaries intriguing. In particular, of course, the boundaries that exist between disciplines. If Rice is right that academia is invested perpetuating divisions between research interests, it seems to leave itself little room to grow: If rhetorical practice is moving toward a networked/databased (?) model of work, then the old print-based, linear, monological (and mono-logical–one form of logic) form of scholarship is moving toward obsolesence.
What Rice advocates (often explicitly) is a form of scholarship that is electrate, radial, and polylogical (mental note: remember to read Peter Krieg on polylogic). It is the openness of new media work in rhetcomp that attracts me: my interests lie in literature, language, film, television, sequential narrative art, media. . .rhetcomp work (admittedly inspired largely through the work Rice has exposed me to) seems to allow for these disparate interests far more readily than specializing in any one of them would allow.
Shaviro’s second presentation, on Second Life, was far more provocative (for me) than the earlier presentation on blogs. This SL presentation I found was aso of more interest to me than last month’s Shaviro talk on MMO communities and commerce theory (only because I often felt in over my head at the earlier talk).
I admit, based on Shaviro’s earlier talk on SL, that I hadn’t conceived of it as a space for pedagogical work. It seems the potential is certainly there, and already being capitalized on. (Although, from my own experience of SL’s interface, it will be at least several years before I incorporate it into my pedagogy. But still something to think about.) Despite not making the connection explicit, I think Shaviro’s demonstration of SL’s pedagogical potential neatly dovetails with elements Rice discussed about thinking of information as networked or databased, and things I picked up from Rice in 6010. Teaching in SL means we expand the pedagogical site of the university; literally, of course, a SLU (Second Life University) could have students enrolled globally. Yet it also points to another expansion: by collapsing the divide between classroom and life (whether real, first, or second), our pedagogy can aspire to teach in (or maybe through) new spheres of personal interaction and social engagement.
This is what Rice means (or what I understand him to mean) in answering my question by saying that everything is a pedagogical resource. (I see what he means, but I should have been more specific in my question; I didn’t really get the answer I was looking for. Alas.) In a sense, this is an extension (or at least a correlation) of Ulmer’s popcycle/mystory and Benjamin’s psychogeography, both attempts to reflect that subjectivity is not isolated into monologic strands of meaning, but that it is often (if not usually) a tangled knot of associations, influences, and connections (hence Shaviro’s book). If there is any unique thread to the new media theory I’ve read (admittedly not much), it is this willingness to embrace and occupy the spaces where discourses overlap and inform one another.
I remember Baby Jessica, the little girl stuck down the well (now twenty years ago, a quick Google search informs me). I would have been seven at the time, and–my idea of wells being limited only to the wishing variety–was puzzled as to why they didn’t just throw a rope down to her. Interestingly, my memories of this event are mediated: I recall more clearly watching the Baby Jessica TV movie in latchkey than seeing any actual news coverage of it. In the movie, Jessica was called by a favorite nickname, "Juicy," and was kept from dehydration by being given juice boxes.
I don’t remember the Challenger explosion, but I do remember the Punky Brewster episode about the shuttle disaster. Punky’s class watched the shuttle mission in school, and the shuttle exploded. Punky came home in tears. Later in the series, the show confronted such topical issues as Punky’s move into adolesence and the dangers of feeding peanut butter to a dog. My mother insists that I came home from school in tears as well; I don’t remember that either. I do remember talking about the explosion in class; I remember particularly that we tried to conjecture what might have caused the explosion. In first grade.
I remember the 1988 presidential election, and, in particular, a terrifying secret revealed to me about the Republican political agenda. A schoolmate, whose mother was a latchkey mom and apparently a staunch Democrat, told me that, if elected, the Bush administration would enforce a mandatory execution policy on all citizens 65 or older. (That’s one way to cut down on the Social Security roll, I grant you.) This news horrfied me–I was then a Republican thanks to Alex P. Keaton–and asked my mother if it were true. I was particularly scared for the safety of my grandfather. Bush was elected, but this particular plan was never mobilized.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the Beatles, but I remember telling my mother that insects couldn’t be in a band. Such a joker.
I remember the first time I fell for a girl. Her name was Jennifer Clark and she lived one floor up in my apartment building. At 7, we pledged our unyielding love to one another (it yielded when she moved away the next year). Although captivated by her winsome charms, she completely freaked me out one spring day by squishing her toes through a fresh mud patch.
I don’t remember what she looked like.
I remember having a bad bout of the flu and my mother and aunt doing their best to help me over it. I was sick on a weekend and I remember, since I spent time in and out of sleep, losing track of what day it was. My aunt tried to rouse my spirits by letting me watch Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, but in my debilitated condition, even that rare treat afforded me little pleasure. I fell asleep before anyone said the Word of the Day.
I don’t remember having the chicken pox, but I am told that my case was either mild or severe. When Jennifer had the chicken pox, she stayed with my family during the day while her parents worked. Either it was little risk because of the severity of my infection several years earlier or there was some risk due to my mild infection. Jennifer had pox on the inside of her mouth, and eating was difficult for her.
I remember my pet rabbit, Bugs, who was purchased one year at the State Fair. I wanted to name him Ripley; at the time I was a huge fan of the show Ripley’s Believe It … Or Not! One of the adult’s in my family–I don’t remember who–told me that a rabbit couldn’t remember a name like Ripley. So, choosing a name more appropriate to a member of the Leporidae family, we settled on Bugs. Bugs liked green beans and Froot Loops. I blamed him for chewing a hole in my inflatable Dukes of Hazzard car, but, in truth, I punctured it with the end of my comb. When the apartment management changed, we had to give Bugs away to this guy who worked with my mother. His name was Mike Chielmicki, and he loved Dirty Harry movies.
I don’t remember any specifics of the many fish I’ve owned, but really, how memorable are fish? I’ve owned goldfish and betas. I do remember naming a fish after Columbus once, though. Columbus also gave a cat his middle name: Motley Christopher McGinnis. Motley was put to sleep two weeks ago. Goodbye, Motley.
Discovered on Me(ish):
This site is a digital approximation of self. It’s a lot like me, and contains lots of bits of me, but it isn’t actually me. If you read or see anything here and think that you know exactly who I am based on that, then you’re sadly wrong. It’s not me. It’s me(ish).
I stumbled upon Me(ish) looking for an appropriate Anti-Valentine to send some one. (She will not be getting an Anti-Valentine after all, since the site’s server seems unable to handle the demand for A-Vs. Rest assured, if you are reading this and you were the intended recipient of the A-V, the sentiment still holds.) Anyway, I started nosing around and found the above description of the relationship btw self and blog-self and found it appealing. I like the (perhaps unintended) pun on the word "bits" (in techspeak and regular speak) in the second sentence.
The blog as approximate self–another metaphor we use to describe our relation to things and technology. There’s something to this metaphor jazz after all. . .
An elaboration on an issue I thought I’d since put to rest, but to which I find I am obliged to return.
Reading Kant, I am drawn in by his use of the word "critique". As Immy uses it, critique is more than a merely negative response to something, more than an outright rejection of the object of study. Rather, critique is an investigative effort to establish the limits of the object. In the case of my reading, Kant is trying to develop an understanding of aesthetic judgment, to establish its boundaries and limits as a form of cognition. And, yes, all you avid Kant scholars who read me religiously, I know that Kantian metaphysics separate cognition and judgment. Sue me.
(more…)JF has 7050 reading Kant’s Critique of Judgment this week.
Adorno and Horkheimer, I forgive you.
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