Friday, October 9, 2009

Writing New Media; or, Garth Goes Bananas

To save you time, here is the shortened, one sentence form of my response to the Wysocki chapters as it shall follow: I don't like 'em.

That being said, allow me to elaborate. One of the things that I have found most effective in the readings thus far in the course has been that they have minimized the artistic emphasis of our field; that is to say, they have pointed out the universality of communication, and emphasized style, certainly, but not "art". While countless authors thus far have indicated the existence of graphemes as a signifier of meaning, thus far it has been understood that these elements of language are secondary to the more abstract, in my mind rightly so. My understanding of graphemes, and correct me if this is flawed, has been that they enhance a message inherent to the text. For example, large red text certainly can convey anger, but usually in accordance with a message that would've gotten that point across anyways, like "Stop drinking my coffee you bastards!" Form, to pander oh so much to Shuy, has followed function, and there was much rejoicing.

Now, enter Wysocki. Here we examine at greater depth the intuitive element that visual presentation affords to a text. I will give her her due; I wanted to be on board for this. I spent a substantial amount of time in undergrad writing about a novel called Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which used new media elements left and right, and for which I praised the author substantially. However, I can't help but get caught up on this one nagging point: It succeeded for Jonathan Safran Foer in his novel because, well, it's art. Similarly, when, in "The Sticky Embrace of Beauty," Wysocki peppered her argument with examples of the sort of layout innovations she's expounding, my thought was immediately of poetry. "This looks like poetry," I thought. Then: "Is that appropriate for this?"

Well? Is it?

I would like to suggest, flatly, that it is not. Wysocki is quick to denigrate the current layout conventions as perpetuating cultural values like efficiency, and draws some (in my mind) shady and negative correlations to "assembly lines, in parking lots, and in the rows of desks in classroom" (159). I'll grant her this: she's probably right, standard layout does emphasize efficiency, and in doing so reflects a larger cultural emphasis. But (and let me emphasize the but-ness of this but) why is she so loath to examine the implications of efficiency as the guiding element of graphic composition?

It seems to me that the current layout form emphasizes the meaning of a text; that is to say, it is as unobtrusive an element of a reading as possible, so as to direct one's attention to the abstract statements being made with the ink. Efficiency, thus, is gained by removing every imagined impediment to the acquisition of meaning to a text. Now, if we suppose, by Wysocki's example, a layout convention predicated upon "compassion," we can certainly add additional meaning to what would be essentially the same text. However, this addition would bring with it a meta level of interaction with the text that would distract from the meaning inherent to it! Arguments thus relying upon an extra-textual element of meaning comprehension would be, I argue, arguments that by necessity introduce a boundary between themselves and the reader.

Now, I will wholeheartedly embrace Wysocki in pointing out the oppressive cultural values that come into play in the manufacture of meaning from written text; as a middle class, white Christian male, my life is as endorsed by "the system" as it's going to get, but I am not so dense as to imagine that things must, or should, be this way. I do not want my comments against Wysocki's arguments to be seen as rejecting her pleas for gender and racial equalization in texts. However, I would stress that her methods for achieving these are far from the only present option. It seems to me that withdrawing into a radical stylistic and idealistic shift would underscore the theories of inherent gender inequality that Wysocki purports to be struggling against. Again, I offer my vision of textual aesthetics in their standard iteration as intentionally understated so as to emphasize the message conveyed. If this is the case, then certainly the issue lies not in the appearance of texts, but rather in the language and values contained within them. I question the efficacy of a purely artistic movement in addressing deeply rooted problems of content.

Again, I find myself using this term "art" to describe Wysocki's position, and here I have to break down and ask what place "The Sticky Embrace of Beauty" has in a composition classroom like the ones we'll all be encountering. THESE ARE THE CONCERNS OF AN ARTIST! I eagerly await the day a freshman composition class comes along that is so proficient that their time is best spent with theoretical concerns of the impact of font choice. I try to imagine what my own reaction would be if, as a student, I encountered Wysockian principles or, worse yet, assignments in a class supposedly dedicated to writing proficiency. I would think of it as groundless busywork, especially her assignments. If I had a writing teacher who spent, as she suggests, "6-8 class periods" examining commercial advertisements, I suspect that I would not be the only person considering a drop, at the very least.

Now yes, I can see how that indicates cultural entrenchment and resistance to change. I have to ask, though: Isn't there a practical line we have to acknowledge? No matter our theoretical impressions of instruction, there comes a point when brass tacks will force us to conduct classes in a way that will allow our students to succeed later on. I do not think, to finally conclude, that Wysocki's new media practices will allow for this.

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