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Essays 2005-2006
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'Til Death Do Us Part
Andrea Mills
A lot of things died. Marriage is supposed to be the beginning of new life, a life that is excited and enhanced by the unity between a husband and wife. To my surprise, my marriage was the beginning of a new life, all right. My dream marriage became one of my worst nightmares. Eventually, my soul began to die. Staying in a bad marriage is worse than getting a divorce because a bad marriage eventually creates destructive feelings, is bad for the children, gives a bad example of marriage, and results in hiding things and lying to family and friends in order to make things appear ok. In addition, staying builds emotional scars, which result in major problems in both a person’s emotional and physical health.
Feelings of inadequacy, resentment, and bitterness are very common when a person is in a bad marriage and tries to keep everything together and make the marriage work. I felt that I could fix everything when needed. I thought that if I was a good wife and mother, created a beautiful home, and had a great career, then my husband wouldn’t want or need to continue the lifestyle that he had been leading anymore. Boy, was I wrong! Nothing I was doing made a difference. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. I just couldn’t change him. I began to feel very inadequate, as do other people with the same marital situations. Brooklyn Stevens, whom I had a personal interview with, felt some of these very same emotions. Stevens was living with both mental and physical abuse from her husband, and I was living with my husband’s addiction to alcohol and drugs. In another personal interview with Abby Shillingstad, I found that she was also a victim of emotional and physical abuse. Her husband was a very controlling man. From the clothes she wore to the color of her hair, he made the decisions. He told her that she was too fat, which left her feeling inadequate and self-conscious. In addition, for a long time, Stevens’ husband convinced her that she would be nothing without him, and she needed his money to survive (Shillingstad). We were all living a life that we did not want. I would ask God if I had done something to deserve this kind of a marriage. It took a long time for me to wake up and smell the coffee. By that time, I was so bitter at my husband for the things that he was doing to destroy our marriage that I would say things to try to make him feel like a loser, or at least bad enough that he wouldn’t want to continue to abuse alcohol and drugs. He would always promise that it would never happen again. Unfortunately, that was a promise that he never kept. I resented him and his actions deeply.
I always believed that staying together for the children’s sake was the right thing to do. Whatever gave me that idea? In hindsight, that was the worst thing I could have done for them. Shillingstad admitted that she stayed in her bad marriage for her children as well. But something good did come out of her marriage, and that was having all of her children. For that gift, she is thankful. However, she does admit that her oldest daughter has also recently become a victim of her husband’s controlling abuse. This angers Abby (Shillingstad). Stevens thought that having children would have made things better in her marriage. She didn’t end up having children and is very thankful for that now (Stevens). In my situation, allowing my children to see the things that their father was doing and then watch my reactions to them scared them and made them feel like their family and home were no longer secure or stable. But I thought that I was hiding everything well. For example, on many occasions when my husband would go on a binge, he would not come home at night, sometimes for two or three days at a time. I would get up early and set a cereal bowl on the counter, put a little bit of milk in it with a spoon, and open up the newspaper, so when the kids got up it would look like their dad had been home. Then I would tell them that he had already left for work. Sometimes I would tell them that Dad was working out of town, so he had to spend the night somewhere else. I would just keep making up lies as needed to cover up what was really going on. The kids got older and started to really question what was happening. I still continued to cover up everything. They were probably thinking if Dad was just working really long hours, then why was Mom so furious with him and not speaking to him when he got home?
If I had ended the marriage when the kids were younger, it would have been easier for the kids to adjust. I could have explained what the problems were and why things needed to change. Children are much more forgiving when they are younger than when they become teenagers. By doing it when they were young, I could have prevented many lies. Because of all the cover-ups, my kids thought that I was divorcing a saint. I don’t regret never bad-mouthing their dad, but it really gave them a false image of him. Now as teenagers, there are so many more issues for them to deal with, such as being embarrassed to tell their friends, thinking they need to choose sides, threatening to move out of the house if I didn’t let Dad come back, and not trusting me after I told them that I had been covering everything up. They said if I was lying then, how did they know I wasn’t lying now? In different ways and through different eyes, I realized that the divorce was worse now than it would have been when they were toddlers.
When raising my children, I wanted to teach them good examples by living good examples. But in retrospect, I wasn’t setting a very good example of how marriage should be. Some important aspects in a good marriage are love, trust, and unity. The kids weren’t seeing much of this. My husband was a master manipulator. Therefore, trust was something I can honestly say I never had with him. Shillingstad’s husband was also a habitual liar. He could always put on a super show in front of other people to make himself appear to be a great guy. But behind closed doors it was a different story (Shillingstad). As a result of the absence of trust in my marriage, the love began to fade immensely. When there is no trust and the love starts fading, the unity of the marriage begins to split. These are the things that the kids were seeing. I tried very hard to cover these things up. It’s not that I was purposely trying to hurt them by pretending; actually, I thought I was protecting them at the time. As it turned out, I realized all of my theories on doing what was better for the kids were inane. What I thought was a good example was actually setting a very bad example of what a marriage should be like.
My children were not the only people that I concealed events of my bad marriage from. My siblings, parents, friends, and clients all got the same kind of lies and cover-ups about what was really going on. Stevens told me that she also hid everything from family and friends. She even took blame for things in order to make it appear that things were her fault instead of his. In addition, she poured herself into her work so that she did not have to be home. Although our situations were a little different, I also worked very long hours at my salon, did some volunteer work, and spent a lot of time with my siblings and close friends. Stevens stayed away so she didn’t have to be home with her husband (Stevens), whereas I stayed away in order to pass time so that I wasn’t sitting at home waiting to see if he was going to come home or not. Some nights I thought I would literally go crazy waiting for him to come home. I don’t think I even heard half of what the kids said to me on those nights. Maybe my family and friends all knew what was really going on, but I thought that I was hiding it well.
Another, and probably the most serious, consequence of staying in my bad marriage is the emotional toll it took on me. Stevens claims that her marital troubles led to unhealthy emotional problems for her as well. There were times that she actually feared for her life. On one occasion, she told her husband to just go ahead and kill her (Stevens). Shillingstad was tormented by physical abuse as well. On one occasion, she had to call the police for protection (Shillingstad). In contrast, I was not being physically abused and fearing for my life, but even so, there were so many times during my marriage that I wished I were dead. Then I would feel terrible because there was no way that I wanted to leave my children or for them to lose their mother. That’s when I started thinking that we would all be better off if my husband would just get in a car accident and die. These thoughts were so awful that I could not believe they were coming out of my mind. I thought that I was a good person and a good Christian. But how could I be if I was thinking like this? This is how messed up the spouses of the abusers get. Also, my religious belief that divorce was a sin was another key factor in staying as long as I did. I knew that I needed to get out and never look back, but I had this cloud above my head with all kinds of thoughts. What would God think? Would he forgive me? Would I still be a Christian? I got so depressed and plagued with anxiety that I felt like I was sinking farther into the hell-hole of life. These problems led to insomnia and very poor eating habits. Trying to work full time, raise the kids, and keep the salon and home running while my health was failing really were taking its toll on me. The emotional stress was now turning into very serious physical problems as well. It got so bad that I ended up in the doctor’s office almost every other day. My doctors told me that I needed to get rid of the stress in my life before it killed me. I knew that they were right, but I felt that I needed to be tough and suck it up.
Then one day my body and mind both gave up. I was no longer able to carry on the charade anymore. I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone my family, anymore. I was not eating at all and I was only getting about two to three hours of sleeps a night. It took a lot of hospitalization and therapy to get me back to myself.
For many people that have stayed in a bad marriage, destructive feelings have developed, and children have been harmed. They put on a facade of their marriage. They have a lifetime of physical as well as emotional scars that they will carry around. I have given ample evidence of this. No one will ever be able to convince me now that staying in my marriage as long as I did was a good idea.
Work Cited
Stevens, Brooklyn. Personal Interview. 12 August 2005.
Abby, Shillingstad. Personal Interview. 15 August 2005.
In the Dark Woods: Abuse Themes in Common Fairy Tales
Anna Roberts
In modern parlance, the phrase "fairy tale" has come to mean different things; at best, a fairy tale is a story that begins with "once upon a time" and ends with "happily ever after." It evokes images of beautiful heroines, brave heroes, and adventures long ago and far away. At worst, we use the term to mean an untruth, a falsehood so incredible that only a child would believe it. The tales out of the older traditions, however, are more than flights of fancy or pretty lies. "The fairy tale journey...can be seen as a metaphor for the therapeutic journey into the depths of the soul" (Windling, Introduction 15). Stories out of the oral tradition were told "not only to entertain but to teach: to show listeners that they were not alone, to communicate societal attitudes towards topics deemed unspeakable in open society, and to present possible solutions through the metaphor of magic" (Pinlinovsky). In her article "Ashes, Blood and the Slipper of Glass, Terri Windling writes: "[Fairy tales] plunge heroines and heroes into the dark wood, into danger and despair and enchantment and deception, and only then offer them the tools to save themselves." A handful of contemporary writers, including Midori Snyder, Jane Yolen and Terri Windling, restore the fairy tale to the dark wood; they use fairy tale language, imagery and magic to delve into topics we deem too frightening or uncomfortable for open discussion, in particular the theme of child abuse.
Fairy and folk tales are a natural source of material for writers who wish to examine abuse themes. The tales most familiar to contemporary Western readers have been watered down by their recorders (Warner 351) and by Hollywood's renditions, but still include old women who terrorize the young women they look after, fathers who leave their children in the woods to die, and stepmothers who give their husbands' children poisoned apples. The more graphic tales often contain an undercurrent of violence, incest and sexual abuse. "However common such abuse may have been among our European forebears, their frequent use of incest motifs in folktales and their graphic descriptions of the victims' subsequent suffering indicate that the associated fears and anxieties were both widespread and deep" (Ashliman). In her essay "The Hero's Journey," Midori Snyder says that in folk and fairy tales, "abstract ideas are represented by concrete images" (31). Folk tales couch the unspeakable in images of the dark forest, of heroes riding to battle, of young women locked in towers. "Traditional storytellers have used terrifying events to create the emotional experience of grief and abandonment" (Snyder, Journey 32).
Snyder employs these images in her retelling of "The Armless Maiden." The Grimms' version, titled "The Maiden Without Hands," begins with a poor miller who meets a stranger in the woods. The old man says that he'll make the miller rich if he promises " 'to give [the old man] what's behind [the] mill' " (Zipes 119). The miller, thinking that the old man means the apple tree that stands behind the mill, agrees in writing. The miller's wife tells the miller that the old man he met was the devil. " 'He didn't mean the apple tree but our daughter, who was behind the mill sweeping out the yard' " (Zipes 119). The devil, however, has no power over the daughter because of her purity; he tells the miller to take away the maiden's water so that she can't wash herself. But the maiden weeps on her hands, making them clean, and so the devil cannot touch her. The devil orders that the miller chop off the girl's hands. The maiden, seeing her father's dilemma, extends her hands so that her father may chop them off. But she weeps so much on the stumps that they're clean. The devil has to keep his promise to the miller even though he can't touch the girl. But the daughter tells her father that she can't stay with him anymore; she will go away and "depend on the kindness of the people to provide me with whatever I need" (Zipes 120). In her travels she meets a king, who falls in love with her and marries her. While the king is away at war, the girl gives birth to a boy; the devil, still trying to harm the girl, contrives to send news to the king that the girl has given birth to a changeling. When the king sends a reply telling his mother to protect his queen until he returns, the devil substitutes a letter of his own, telling the king's mother that she should kill the girl and her child. The king's mother refuses, and sends the girl away with her child tied to her back. The queen prays to be saved, and finds a cottage occupied by an angel sent to protect the girl and her child. The girl's hands are restored; the king finds the girl and their child after searching for seven years, when he comes across the cottage where they've been living. They celebrate a second wedding and live happily ever after (Zipes 118-123).
Snyder's story "The Armless Maiden" begins: "There once was a husband and wife who lived beside a great forest" (17). Snyder uses the familiar fairy tale beginning to draw her readers in, but the story leaves the impersonal narrative of the Grimms' fairy tale behind. Her version substitutes a brother for the father, and a jealous new wife for the devil. Her characters, unlike the Grimms', have names – the maiden is Marion, Richard is her brother, and Fiona is the new wife. The characters are more fully realized than those in the Grimms' text; in developing the characters, Snyder gives the reader people to identify with. Her plot deviates from the Grimms' version; the jealous wife commits heinous acts – killing Richard's dogs and murdering the son she's given Richard – and tells Richard that Marion is responsible. Richard is all too willing to believe Fiona; he chops Marion's arms off at the shoulders and leaves her in the woods to die (Snyder, Maiden 17-30).
The imagery Snyder employs is decidedly more graphic than that found in the fairy tales most readers are accustomed to: "Marion shook with fear...Richard's anguished cry had released her from Fiona's spell and now there was blood on her sheets, blood on the sleeves of her nightdress, and on her pillow was laid the body of her murdered nephew and a silver blade" (Snyder, Maiden 19). The Grimms' most graphic image is of the girl weeping on the stumps of her hands: "Then she extended both her hands and let [her father] chop them off. The devil came a third time, but she had wept so long and so much on the stumps that they too were all clean" (119-120). The maiden's blood is so pure it leaves no stain.
Snyder's storyline is more ambiguous than that of the more familiar tales. In the Grimms' version of the tale, the heroine is granted a "happily ever after" ending by an angel who comes to earth to save the maiden and her child; nothing is said of the maiden's father, who held the blade that chopped his daughter's hands off, or of the devil who ordered it to begin with (Zipes 123). Snyder's ending, however, is more vengeful and more ambiguous; Fiona, the brother's wife who in Snyder's retelling is the cause of Marion's troubles, is transformed into a thorny rosebush, while Marion saves her brother from being trapped by the thorns. And while the Prince finds Marion and begs her to come home, as he does in the Grimms' version, there is no clear-cut "happily ever after" ending. Marion says to the Prince: "When I first came to you, I was a creature of the woods. You pitied me and gave me shelter. But now I am a woman and you must court me as a woman" (Snyder, Maiden 28).
Snyder first encountered "The Armless Maiden" as told by a South African storyteller, Nongenile Masithatu Zenani (Snyder, Journey 32). In Zenani's telling, a widowed man tries to force his daughter to take his dead wife's place in his home and his bed. When the daughter refuses, he cuts off her arms and leaves her in the woods to die (Snyder, Journey 32). Snyder, fascinated by the story, began to research other versions of the tale. "There were versions told all over Europe and Asia, some less sexual in their tone, but every bit as gruesome" (Snyder, Journey 32). Snyder says that although she believes the "Armless Maiden" stories are about rites of passage, the narratives contain an echo of abuse. "Heroes may be impoverished or robbed of their royal birthrights, but rarely are they so vindictively mutilated before they are turned out into their journeys" (Snyder, Journey 33). The reader or listener is repulsed by the graphic violence of the tales, "not because such events never happen, but because they do" (Snyder, Journey 33).
Of her own retelling, Snyder says that she selected images from various versions of the "Armless Maiden" stories that convey the threat of abuse. However, the story is not about survival as a victim: "...rather it is about [the maiden's] journey as a committed traveller fully aware of her destination" (Snyder, Journey 33). Snyder wrote her version with the intention that the maiden's life would be restored, and that she would forgive her abusive brother. Snyder says that the need for healing that the story conveys is not simply for the abused, but for the abuser as well. "Abusers too are isolated by the shame and brutality of their violent acts" (Snyder, Journey 33). In forgiving her abusive brother, Marion "removes forever the corrupting taint of violence, allowing them both to continue in their new lives, unshackled by the past" (Snyder, Journey 33).
Snyder creates a scene in her retelling that does not appear in any of the traditional "Armless Maiden" narratives. In the earlier versions, the maiden's hands are miraculously restored, but the maiden is passive; in the Grimms' "The Maiden Without Hands," an angel is sent to look after the girl and her child, and the maiden's hands are restored "by the grace of God" (Zipes 122) in reward for her piety. Snyder's Marion, however, has to literally grab her restoration for herself; she bends to drink from a lake, and her baby, who is secured to her back by a cloth, falls into the water. Marion plunges in after him, and, nearly drowning herself, begs the spirit of the lake, in the form of a huge fish, to restore her arms so that she can save her child:
'As spirit of this lake, I would save you if you whish. Or I can save your child. You must choose,' said the fish, its whiskers quivering as it spoke.
'My arms,' Marion cried. "Give me hands and I will save us both!' (Snyder, Maiden 26).
Snyder says that this moment is Marion's first real step in her passage to adulthood, and her first step toward healing. "In one luminous moment, her past is restored, her present made manifest in the power of her hands, and her future assured, as she lifts her child out of the foaming water" (Journey 34). Marion's greatest asset is not piety; it is self-reliance. Unlike the Grimms' maiden, Marion bears her scars and reaches for healing in a way that no stock character can.
While Snyder leaves intact the magical aspects of the fairy tale, other writers purge the supernatural from their stories in order to bring home their themes. Jane Yolen's retelling of "Allerleirauh" is set, like Snyder's "The Armless Maiden" in the mythic past common to most fairy tales, but all other elements of the numinous, shared by traditional versions, are absent in Yolen's story.
The version of "Allerleirauh" told by the Brothers Grimm (called "All-Fur" or "All-Kinds-of Fur" in translation from German) begins with a king whose queen, on her deathbed, demands that he marry no one, unless she is as beautiful as the queen. The king promises; but no woman is found who is the dead queen's equal, except for the king's daughter. The king announces that he intends to marry her, "...for she is the living image of my dead wife" (Zipes 260). The daughter, frightened, tries to stall her father with impossible demands, but he meets each one. She is forced to flee to a neighboring kingdom disguised in a cloak of tattered furs. She works in the king's kitchen, and manages to catch the attention of the king with the enchanted dresses she's brought with her. They marry, and live happily ever after (Zipes 259-263).
The last sentence of the Grimm brothers' "All-Kinds-of-Fur" tells us that this story, like most fairy tales, has a happy ending. But the assurance that "they lived happily until they died," tacked onto a long account of abuse and suffering, is not convincing. The final sentence notwithstanding, this tale is a tragedy, a story that symbolically--but lucidly--portrays the unhappy life of a sexually abused child. (Ashliman)
Yolen's retelling is short and brutal. She explores the idea, in a few brief pages, that abuse is rarely an isolated incident. "As she has said in a discussion of this tale, 'while I wanted this to have a happy ending, the story insisted otherwise'" (qtd. by Pilinovsky). Yolen's story begins, as do the traditional versions, with the death of a queen. The promises the king makes, however, are different. He promises to love the baby that the queen died giving birth to – which he does not do in the traditional versions; it’s a promise he twists to suit himself as his daughter grows up. And in Yolen's retelling, the king's promise to marry no one unless the new wife is as beautiful as the queen is not extracted from him, but volunteered, unasked (Yolen 36-39).
A common motif in tales of threatened incest is the promise extracted from the king by his dying wife. This promise, combined in many tales with subsequent acts of the daughter, further helps to protect the father's reputation by shifting the responsibility for his incestuous advances elsewhere, most often to the deceased queen, since the king can fulfill the promise made at her behest only by marrying his own daughter. (Ashliman)
Helen Pilinovsky, in her article "Donkeyskin, Deerskin, Allerleirauh," writes, that Yolen's retelling "is a very interesting variation, removing, as it does, any onus of guilt from the easily scapegoated female figure" (Pilinovsky). Yolen holds the king, and no one else, accountable for the abuse of his daughter.
As in the traditional versions, the king discovers that his daughter is the only woman as beautiful as his queen. But in Yolen's story, the princess does not make impossible demands of her father, and does not run away to escape. Yolen reminds her audience that certain magics are expected in fairy tales: "Now if this were truly a fairy tale...the princess would go outside to her mother's grave. And there, on her knees, she would learn a magic greater than any craft..." (39). Then Yolen abruptly rips those expectations away from her reader: "But this is not a fairy tale. The princess is married to her father and, always having wanted his love, does not question the manner of it. Except at night, late at night, when he is away from her bed and she is alone in the vastness of it" (39). Yolen's princess dies giving birth to a daughter "as lovely as her mother. The king knows he will not have to wait another thirteen years. It is an old story. Perhaps the oldest" (39).
Yolen's princess cannot expect a happy ending. The adults who might have stepped in are kept quiet out of fear of the king's retaliation. "Silence becomes the conspiracy; silence becomes the conspirators" (Yolen 39). This retelling is "a painfully insightful tale of what it is in society at large, and in the individual human spirit that makes such abuse possible" (Pilinovsky). The princess is representative of every child with a shameful secret, with no one willing to help, and no magic key for her escape.
Another folk tale with an underlying theme of abuse is "Donkey Skin". It is the same type of tale as "Allerleirauh", classified as Aarne-Thompson Type 510B, or Unnatural Love; Donkey Skin is very similar to "Allerleirauh." The version most familiar is Charles Perrault's, though it's been omitted from most fairy tale collections meant for children (Warner 351). Perrault's story begins with the same motif as "Allerleirauh," with a dying queen and a promise from the king to love no one unless she is as beautiful and worthy as the queen herself is. The king, in this case, has a magic donkey that excretes gold instead of dung; the princess' final "impossible demand" of her father is that he slaughter the donkey, the source of the his wealth, and have a cloak made from its skin. He does so, and the princess flees wrapped in the donkey skin cloak (Perrault). "For in this early fairy tale [Perrault] marks the daughter with her father's sin: the sign of the donkey conveys his lust. She becomes a beast, after her father has behaved like one" (Warner 325). In a panel discussion at WisCon 23 in Madison, Wisconsin, Terri Windling likened the cloak that Donkey Skin and Allerleirauh wear to the cloak of shame that covers the children of abuse: while the survivors of abuse spend their lives trying to escape it, it becomes a shield that protects them from being hurt again.
"Donkey Skin" shares the theme of incest with "Allerleirauh", but at the end of Perrault's tale, the king comes to his senses and appears at his daughter's wedding: "But neither the prince nor the many visiting kings appeared in such splendor as the bride's father, who now recognized his daughter and begged her forgiveness" (Perrault). By bringing him out of his madness, Perrault shifts all blame away from the king; he was crazed, and therefore not responsible for his actions.
Windling's prose poem "Donkeyskin" blends the traditional plot of the fairy tale with an account of a modern runaway teenager, shifting back and forth between the magical tale and the modern one. Windling uses the customary dream-like language and imagery of the fairy tale even in the harsh story of the contemporary girl; the poem is surreal but unflinching. Windling's retelling begins after the Maria Alvarez, the runaway, has fled. In Windling's tale, "the daughter is shown to have suffered actual abuse and not, as in the older tales, merely the threat of it" (Pilinovsky). Windling writes that some time after Maria has fled that "the bruise on her face has faded to yellow and she walks without limping" (Windling, Donkeyskin 297). "The explanation for her limp – a beating, a rape – is left to the discretion of the observer" (Pilinovsky). Windling never gives the father the chance to shift the blame away from himself, and her heroine goes on as do most survivors of abuse: trying to put the past behind her. "She pulls the donkeyskin back around her shoulders, taking comfort in the soft, familiar fur. She knows one day she will have to learn to live without it" (Windling, Donkeyskin 299).
In the hands of writers like Snyder, Yolen and Windling, the fairy tale is stripped of bright, sanitized veneer that most contemporary readers associate with the stories. In these writers' hands, stories of the fantastic become much more than escapist literature; they become vehicles for powerful truths about the dark forest we pass through on the road to adulthood, and the dangers that lurk there. "Once upon a time, they say, there was a girl . . . there was a boy . . . there was a person who was in trouble. And this is what she did . . . and what he did . . . and how they learned to survive it" (Windling, Ashes). These stories do not flinch from topics deemed taboo by our society; "they go to the very heart of truth. They've spoken the truth for a thousand years" (Windling, Ashes).
Works Cited
Ashliman, D.L. "Incest in Indo-European Folktales." Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts. Ed. D.L. Ashliman. 1997 http://www.pitt.edu~dash/incest.htm.
Perrault, Charles. "Donkey Skin." Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts. Ed. D.L. Ashliman.
Pilinovsky, Helen. "Donkeyskin, Deerskin, Allerleirauh: The Reality of the Fairy Tale." The Endicott Studio. Ed. Terri Windling. 2001 http://www.endicott-studio.com/fordnky.htm.
Snyder, Midori. "The Armless Maiden."The Armless Maiden and Other Tales for Childhood's Survivors. Ed. Terri Windling. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1995. 17-30.
Snyder, Midori. "The Hero's Journey."The Armless Maiden and Other Tales for Childhood's Survivors. Ed. Terri Windling. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1995. 31-34.
Warner, Marina. From the Beast to the Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1994.
Windling, Terri. "Ashes, Blood and the Slipper of Glass." The Edicott Studio. Ed. Terri Windling. 1997 http://www.endicott-studio.com/forashs.html
Windling, Terri. "Donkeyskin."The Armless Maiden and Other Tales for Childhood's Survivors. Ed. Terri Windling. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1995. 295-299.
Windling, Terri. "Introduction."The Armless Maiden and Other Tales for Childhood's Survivors. Ed. Terri Windling. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1995. 13-16.
Yolen, Jane. "Allerleirauh"The Armless Maiden and Other Tales for Childhood's Survivors. Ed. Terri Windling. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1995. 36-39.
Zipes, Jack, ed. The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. New York: Bantam Books, 1992.
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Essays 2006-2007
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“The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001); Directed by Wes Anderson
Steve Balsarini
One would think that at this point, I would learn to keep my big mouth shut.
I have received more than my share of grief from friends, family members, and coworkers alike for my taste in movies. Most of the time I just remind them that at least I have some. My punishments are usually mild; being gently chided for rolling my eyes while overhearing a female colleague gush about whatever mindless, formulaic “chick flick” she and her girlfriends saw the previous evening on their “Girls’ Night Out”. Sometimes, though, the penalties are more severe, escalating to near fisticuffs and accusations of disloyalty to the state (“What are you, a commie?!”) as the result of stating my dislike for “World Trade Center”, and dismissing it as ham-handed propaganda.
It seems, however, that if I ever needed to be careful about what I criticized, I especially need to be careful about what I praise as well. The consequences can often be as, if not more, dangerous.
I recently sat down at a local coffee house with several friends and acquaintances, and the topic of movies once again reared its ugly head. After a little good-natured banter over who was the better Bond (Sean Connery, of course), we started talking about our “All-Time-Favorites”. When it came to my turn, I paused, looked thoughtfully up toward the coffee bar menu, and said, “You know, I really liked ‘The Royal Tenenbaums.’”
The rest of the table froze. They seemed to slowly recoil, looking at each other with silent dismay. They then turned back to me, and then back again at each other, stupefied. It was as if they had actually heard me say, “You know, I really liked that ‘Mein Kampf.’”
Kellie, the aforementioned chick-flick addict, seemed to be the most upset among them by my statement. She was the first to speak.
“Yeah, I saw it. I didn’t get it.” She said, in a derisively challenging tone.
The others, in silent agreement, all seemed to nod almost imperceptibly to each other as they turned toward me in unison, awaiting my response.
Common sense and decorum would normally have caused me to simply demur mildly at that moment with a passive chuckle and feign interest the rest of the evening as the table discussed the relative merits of gravity-defying light-saber fights versus the poignant and moving love soliloquy Keanu Reeves delivers to finally win the heart of the heroic, strong-willed, modern woman. Unfortunately, this would not be the course of events that this particular evening would take.
Inexplicably, I chose to throw caution to the wind that night, and decided to defend my choice with all of the ferocity with which it had been assailed.
If I had ever felt any ambivalence toward “The Royal Tenenbaums” before that moment, that ambivalence was now gone. I now LOVED this movie, and I would be damned if I was going to sit there and let anybody, least of all “Chick Flick Kellie”, malign what might now be, to me, the greatest motion picture ever made. Kellie had made a terrible miscalculation, and it was now time for her to pay.
First, I would describe how, from the beginning, the very structure of the film, organizing the story into chapters, punctuated by the narration of Alec Baldwin (ironically, probably his finest work), makes it possible for us to appreciate fully the odyssey of Royal, the patriarch of the Tenenbaum family, and his exceptional, albeit presently troubled children: Chas, a financial genius; Margot, a highly praised playwright; and Ritchie, a tennis superstar, all fallen upon hard times. We see them struggle, fail, struggle again, and finally find some sort of fulfillment. It is an epic journey.
I would then describe how painfully well written and developed the characters are, each with his or her own distinct talents, terrible weaknesses, and difficult challenges; how the cast, a group of freakishly talented actors, breathe life into these characters while allowing their own celebrity personas to disappear completely within them.
The script’s themes – early promise and unfulfilled potential, loneliness, shame, unrequited love, regret, redemption, and acceptance– are universally accessible and speak directly to the heart. At various times in all of our lives, we have felt as these people have felt, and we ought to be fascinated when the mirror is held up before us so uniquely.
I could already hear her sneering her complaints. “People don’t act like that; People don’t talk like that! Nothing happens! They don’t do anything!” To that I would only need to say that it is that very restraint and formality in the action and dialogue that makes the story so effective. We are allowed to be moved by the power of the words; they are never diminished by any ridiculous “over-the-top” performance. Jim Carrey would never get within twenty miles of a Wes Anderson set. Add to that the amazing cinematography, replete with montages and slow zooms, the marvelous sets and costumes, the quirky New York City landscapes, and top it all off with an incredible music soundtrack, and only a Neanderthal could miss all of the beauty and charm in this film.
I thought briefly about that car insurance commercial with the cavemen, and for just a moment pictured Kellie, with a gigantic unibrow, protruding teeth, and a bone through her nose. Hmmm. The time for her come-uppance was now at hand.
I never did get to defend “The Royal Tenenbaums” to these people. Rather than going directly into my arguments, as I should have done, I decided to start with a vaguely glib insult, saying something about “Pearls before swine”, making sure to say the word swine just as my eyes locked with Kellie’s. Understanding my intent perfectly, her eyes flashed with rage, and she shrieked, “Did you just call me a pig?!” Cursing like a sailor, she then flung the entire contents of her Grande Mocha Frappucino all over my face and chest.
I remember as I sheepishly walked out the door, amid the jeering and laughter of the entire room, covered in coffee, chocolate and milk, hearing a pleading voice in the back exclaim desperately, “Oh, come on, don’t you get it?! They’re snakes…ON A PLANE!”
History of Japanese Music
Dan Stanton
Japanese culture is popular worldwide (Faiola). Japanese movies, video games, and television programming often use current Japanese music. Because the music is in the background, it is easier to miss what a Japanese listener hears automatically. A study of traditional Japanese music informs the non-Japanese listener of the influences on Japanese composers that he or she would not have otherwise known about. If these influences seem strange to the American listener, he or she may be inclined to think that Japanese music is strange because of those influences, without realizing that the musical tradition of Japan is as valid as any other musical tradition. For those who have grown up in America, music means rock, pop, country, soul, funk, jazz, classical, electronic, or another genre. Each person has his or her own taste. Most of the time, Americans export music rather than import it. Even imported music is often stylistically similar to American and Western music. Listening to this kind of music can give an impression that all music has a steady and regular tempo, a main melody, and a sound that is "pure," separate from the day-to-day noise of life. There are exceptions to these generalizations even among some music artists of America, but, most often, the people that choose not to listen to the music artists that "break the rules" believe that their choices in music are more refined. The generalizations about American music, after considering all of Japanese music, seem to be arbitrary constraints rather than universal rules. A new perspective is gained after studying something as foreign as Japanese traditional music.
Some of popular Japanese music sounds like music of the USA, except, perhaps, that the voices are singing in Japanese. What a casual American listener may not realize is that some Japanese music artists try to emulate American and Western music and have been doing so for about the last fifty years. The presence of American soldiers in Japan after World War II left some Japanese with a taste for modern American music (Fujie 205). After the war was over in Japan, many Japanese believed Western music was better than Japanese music. Nationalism had dominated Japan's culture previous to and during the war so much that being defeated in war was a defeat for their culture. Japanese musicians then studied American music for its underlying spirit and, through dedicated practice, learned to imitate it (Galliano 8-9).
Other pieces of popular Japanese music might sound strange to American listeners because a particularly Japanese tone of voice or chord is used, but the underlying musicality is still very similar to American music. Since the late 1950s, Japanese music artists have combined what they know of American music with a Japanese sound, creating a new genre called Japanese pops, now just J-pop. This music is still a major influence on Japanese popular music today (Fujie 207). Another Japanese music genre called enka can sound rough and overdramatic to an ear that is used to Western music. The genre was a way of returning to the musical traditions of Japan from before Western influence. Now, the Japanese accept enka as a musical genre on its own (Fujie 207). Though it may sound like the music of a bygone era, it only happens to be the music that currently sounds the most like traditional Japanese music.
To the Japanese, all sound can be considered musical (Galliano 7). In contrast to Western music, environmental sounds can be considered to be part of a musical performance rather than superfluous and interfering noise. Music is sound that originates with the intention to convey meaning. This attitude is drawn from the idea that all sound carries meaning. For example, in ritualized archery, the teacher pays close attention to the sounds that the student makes while standing, drawing the bowstring, and releasing the arrow (Sukiyaki). Every change in timbre can relate the artist's feelings to the listener. This explains why proper use of tone, sound, and silence through the concentration of the artist is considered to be necessary to good music.
Being "clean" does not make a sound good. For example, one string instrument, the shamisen, has a string that is set to rattle against the neck, making the sound noisy on purpose. Silence used in music is not just the absence of sound; it fills the gap between notes with meaning and relates what comes before with what comes after (Galliano 14-15). Silence is not used just to have a little rest between phrases. The silence is part of giving an impression just as the tone is a part. The ideal performer is single-minded in his or her playing or singing. Focused sound production is what makes music, giving expression to feeling and thought of the music artist. The ideal listener is also focused on the sound, following every shading and nuance. Whatever interpretation of the music that there is occurs as the music is heard, according to the style of the music. Each style has a customary way in which ideas and thoughts are expressed, and knowing a style allows one to experience them in the moment of listening to it.
For an average American, Japanese traditional music is a long way from home, and knowledge of it is not necessary for the appreciation of modern Japanese music. Regardless, this history is still valuable. The history of traditional Japanese music reflects on the Japanese themselves by showing them to have been at times disciplined, respectful, insightful, and adaptable. Modern Japanese music seen in the context of its history gains a new dimension. Granted that not all Japanese music is good, an understanding of its history will help to explain the musician's motivations in making the music, giving it more meaning.
Japanese music that was free of the influence of Western nations was known as zokuyo (Fisher). Even this music probably had some extra-national influences, but they were from the other direction. Influences on Japanese music from China and Korea existed in Japan since the third century AD (Fisher). Most music at this time would have been minyo, the folk songs that were only popular in their own specific region of Japan (Fisher). They would be sung non-professionally, as a part of life. The songs would often be about work or love or they would be such that they could be sung in accompaniment to work or games (Fujie 202). The songs could have been about farming rice, drawing fish nets, or they could have just been lullabies (Fisher). Minyo was the music most closely involved with the common people.
Over time, minyo has changed with the introduction of new instruments, the appearance of larger cities, and the Meiji revolution of the mid-nineteenth century. Once the sanshin, qin, and shikyoshi (a lute, zither, and end-blown flute, respectively) were introduced into Japan from China, they were gradually incorporated into minyo along with drums and bamboo flutes. Eventually, the instruments would be modified and become known as Japanese instruments (Fisher). Minyo would adapt to the available instruments, even if the only instrument was a human voice (Fujie 202). During the Nara period (710-794), minyo continued to develop through dance and local festivals (Fisher). The songs would spread with the people, so they would naturally be found at ports and stations ("Japanese"). After people moved away from their respective regions, being able to hear minyo from where they grew up would induce a feeling of nostalgia (Fujie 202). Also, song could be spread from town to countryside to become associated with the rural area even as the townsfolk move on to new music ("Japanese"). The music was closely tied to the lives of the people, so it had to change with them.
For as long as the Japanese have been keeping written records, there has been evidence of a musical tradition in the Imperial Court (Galliano 6). These records predate the Nara period (710-794) (Fisher). They come from the court of the dominant clan of that time, the Yamato clan ("Japanese"). Concurrently, China's culture was growing under the well-established Tang Dynasty (618-907) (Galliano 5). The Chinese music culture was strong enough to reach the Japanese Imperial Court near the beginning of the seventh century (Fujie 201), and the Court adopted it (Galliano 6). At first, Chinese musicians played this new music on Chinese instruments (Fisher). Similar music came from the nations of the Korean peninsula and another country from the area where Vietnam is now. Afterward, for a time, Japan was secluded from influences of the world outside. During this time, the Japanese learned to play gagaku, the orchestral music of the Imperial Court. During the ninth century, the music from China and the Vietnam region became known as "pieces of the left" and music of the Korean peninsula became known as "pieces of the right." Distinctions between the two included different instruments and other more subtle differences such as entering the stage from different sides ("Japanese"). Time apart from outside influences during the Heian period (794-1184) also allowed the Japanese to modify and experiment with this new music. After that, the music was considered Japanese, but, even so, it was remembered that the music was originally foreign (Galliano 6).
During the Nara period, Buddhist ritual songs and chants became known among the Buddhist priests (Fisher). Buddhism itself had existed in Japan since the mid sixth century ("Japanese"). However, it wasn't until the eleventh and twelfth centuries that Buddhism gained enough of a following among the high class for its music to be entered into Japanese culture so much that its chanting was developed formally. By this time, Japan was entering the Kamakura period (1185-1333) (Fisher). This Buddhist chant would be known as shomyo (Fujie 201). The chant would be used to recite religious texts. There were three types depending on what language the chant was in: Bonsan for Sanskrit, Kansan for Chinese, and Wasan for Japanese ("Japanese"). In the Kamakura period, gagaku became less popular and shomyo gained a place in Japanese culture. Overall, the most popular songs of this time were sung dramatic narratives (Fisher). During this time, there were not any major stylistic changes in any kind of music ("Japanese"). This leads directly to the Muromachi period (1333-1568) (Fisher).
The Noh theater known widely today was developed at the beginning of the Muromachi period ("Japanese"). Before then, it was known as sarugaku, a popular form of comic acting; "saru" means "monkey," in this case ("Japanese"). Kan'ami Kiyotsugu and Ze'ami Motokiyo, a father and son that both perform ed sarugaku, added a shortened form of shomyo, called imayo, and a type of dance of professional female dancers, called kusemai, to sarugaku. This new form was known as sarugaku noh, and is currently known as just noh. It flourished under the support of shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, but in the Edo period, new shoguns believed the noh drama to be overly simple and dramatic. Then, it was adopted by the samurai as their entertainment because many plays involved the samurai code of ethics ("Japanese").
Noh itself is a masked drama ("What is"). The hayashi is the ensemble that makes the music for noh. It generally consists of the nohkan (a flute), kotsuzumi (a handheld drum), taiko (mounted drum), and ji (chorus). The musical style of noh theater is known as yokyoku, and shomyo strongly influenced its vocal style (Fujie 201). In general, noh uses eight beat patterns without equal divisions (Fujie 200). The percussionists may also make theatrical yells, called kakegoe, to signal emotion and theme in the story and to control the rhythm, helping other musicians to keep their places (Emmert).
For a time, Japan existed in a state of civil war, but the efforts of Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu brought Japan together under one government ("Japanese"). The different classes of citizen were then strictly defined and members of each class could only interact with its own members (Galliano 16). Because of that, each class upheld its own music and its own customs. Commoners could hold on to their minyo, and they might entertain themselves with puppet theater, known as bunraku. Merchants had kabuki, a very unique and extraordinary dramatic performance. Noh, as it was already noted, was the music of the samurai and military aristocracy. The highest class kept the tradition of gagaku music. The two forms of entertainment that were still developing were bunraku and kabuki, both of which rely on joruri, the style used when voice is used to tell a story ("Japanese"). Therefore, they both rely somewhat on the musical principles established by noh, rakugo (a way of voicing comedy), and kodan (a way of voicing history).
The Edo period lasted from 1615 to 1867, and during this time Japanese music flourished (Fujie 202). Kabuki theater was the popular entertainment for a rising merchant class; Noh was the preferred performance of the samurai. The common people had songs to accompany some times of their lives, classified as minyo, but they might also enjoy the drama of bunraku puppetry. The Buddhist monks were generally satisfied with shomyo with which they would recite their texts. The upper class adhered to the traditional music of the royal court: gagaku. Different classes had different entertainment. This distinction stems from the idea of shi-no-ko-sho, that different classes should be separate. Each class would live, work, and entertain itself as separately as possible from any others. An encounter between classes had to follow the rules of social etiquette. The member of a lower class had to be humble and honor the higher, even if the person of the lower class was more powerful in wealth or strength than the other. Meaningful interaction between classes was discouraged (Galliano 17). This separation allowed different musical styles to develop in different directions simultaneously.
During the Edo period, there were also specific types of music that became widely known. The people of Japan could travel unrestricted once it was unified. Unification brought peace, and so, many samurai no longer had a job nor masters that would employ them. By definition, this made the samurai into ronin. They lost their way of life, and some of them became Buddhist monks ("Interview"). As monks, they could become komuso, wanderers that would wear baskets over their heads and play the shakuhachi (Fujie 202). They would play music that was believed to aid in healing. The basket would hide their face from sight, helping the monks to lose attachment to their self-concept. However, this same anonymity was valuable to the government ("Interview"). Spies would dress as komuso (Fujie 202). Some of these would play a shakuhachi large enough to double as a weapon ("Japanese"). Also, blind biwa players would travel from town to town retelling parts of "Heike Monogatari" ("The Tales of the Heike [Clan]") to make their living. This music was known as Heike biwa, and the players dressed as Buddhist monks though they probably had no personal nor special connection to the religion ("Japanese"). Once the shamisen was introduced, there were also blind shamisen players. Their music was known as tsugaru shamisen (Fisher). Much development on the shakuhachi and shamisen can be credited to these groups of travelers. The influence of the blind musicians was strong because they became the teachers of the shamisen. So strong was their influence that the shamisen lacked precise musical notation until the twentieth century (Malm 6).
For the koto, there were two new types of music: jiuta and shirabemono. In jiuta, the music would alternate between vocal and instrumental sections. During the vocal sections, the koto would become accompaniment. In shirabemono, the music generally followed a pattern: a basic theme would be presented, followed by variations in that theme; after a number of variations, a new theme would follow, and the song would end (Fujie 202). The komuso, Heike biwa, and tsugaru shamisen were all widely known in Japan, but sankyoku was more popular than any of those. Sankyoku is a three-piece ensemble ("san" means "three") consisting of the koto, shamisen, and shakuhachi (Fujie 202). Another popular new style of music among the common people was the kouta or "short song." In it, the vocalist employed a nasal singing voice, called hanagoe, to sing about someone or something that they had strong feelings for, often a lover or their hometown (Fujie 203).
Kabuki theater is dramatic, esoteric, extravagant, and demanding of the performers. The music of it, called nagauta, has been often overlooked as a part of Japanese musical history (Malm xiii). Essential to kabuki is the jōruri narrative form. Around the thirteenth century, a style called sekkyō-bushi formed, in which Buddhist parables were retold as ballads with accompaniment from a biwa. This would be an early ancestor of narratives with shamisen. It would eventually come to be known as sekkyō-jōruri, but not before the appearance of a narrated romance named Jōruri-hime Monogatari Funidan Zōshi in the sixteenth century. This is what establishes jōruri. There would also be oku-jōruri in which the narrator would keep rhythm by beating a fan against his or her hand. Shamisen-jōruri later develops out of both sekkyō-jōruri and oku-jōruri. These styles were the precedents for the new kabuki. The musical instruments for kabuki were, at first, taken directly from noh. Early acting troupes for kabuki were made up of prostitutes of both genders that would act as the opposite sex. This was onna (women's) kabuki. The content of the shows was suggestive; the name "kabuki" appears to have its origin in the word "kabuku" or "to incline." Wakashū-kabuki was intended for homosexuals. In the first half of the seventeenth century, both women and homosexuals were officially banned from the kabuki stage. After that, male actors would play the female roles in yarō-kabuki (men's kabuki). Then, fewer of actors were prostitutes, but the subject of the performances was still often related to the business of selling sex. However, it gradually became less so, and in the eighteenth century, kabuki was aided by the skilled writing of Chikamatsu Monzaemon, who had originally written plays for puppet theater. Also, the dances that were already part of kabuki were lengthened, and it was here that nagauta ("long song") is first used. Kabuki gains the chobo, which is the shamisen and narrator as a pair. The meriyasu (interlude) is also added. In the nineteenth century, excellent music was written as nagauta. Eventually, concerts were held just for this music. That type of performance is called ozashiki nagauta. After this, improvements to kabuki slowed almost to a halt. The Japanese government decided to try to become more Western (and therefore more modern, by their logic) in order to avoid becoming a colony, so the traditional art forms were modified or repressed (Malm 4-18).
Bunraku is Japanese puppet theater, and its music is a narrative jōruri form ("Japanese"). Bunraku does not require puppeteers to be hidden from view. This means that two and three puppeteers can operate one puppet that has moving arms, legs, hands, head, and eyes. In bunraku, the accompaniment is similar to Kabuki; it is a narrator and shamisen player as a pair. They, too, are visible, seated in a kneeling position at an area right of the stage. The narrator is the voice for every character and alternates among three styles throughout the show. The first style is ji, a lyrical style, emphasizing the rhythm, tone, and melody as well as the words. The second style is ji-iro, which is similar to singing with a speaking voice. As such, what is said is more important than it was in the ji style. The third style is kotoba. Used for normal speaking parts, it is more regular than ji or ji-iro. It does allow for emotion, but the enunciation is straight. During the show, the narrator reads from the yukahon, "reciting book." In it is the entire text of the play interspersed with markings in the ji and ji-iro sections for describing the way in which the speech is lyrical. This means the markings are for rhythm, pitch, and tone. However, the notation for pitch is relative, not exact; meaning the base pitch for any performance depends upon the choice of the narrator. The shamisen player, on the other hand, has the music memorized. There are generally no running melodic themes in the shamisen. Instead, the music is tied to the action of the play, but it is also somewhat free because it is not following a melodic theme. The pitch is important here. There is a range of pitches that is felt to be a comfort zone, and playing notes above or below this range expresses that the situation is more troublesome (Music).
The most important historical figures of bunraku theater are Chikamatsu Monzaemon (1653-1724) and Takemoto Gidayu (1651-1714), a playwright and narrator/composer, respectively. Chikamatsu Monzaemon was a famous playwright, even in his day. The skill of Monzaemon is often compared to that of Shakespeare. Monzaemon first wrote Kabuki plays, and he later used the same plays for bunraku theater. However, he also wrote new plays for bunraku theater, enjoying the increased freedom with puppets rather than people ("Japanese"). Takemoto Chikugo-no-Jo, who later changed his name to Takemoto Gidayu, was also a master of his trade, making popular the style of Gidayū-bushi. He took what he liked from the singers and narrators of his time in order to make his new style, and it was so popular that all previous styles of jōruri became known as "ko [old] jōruri" ("Japanese").
Each musical style mentioned here has its own rich history, and the history of music becomes much more involved as it is affected by the Meiji Revolution, when the government would try to make Japan more Western. There are more styles of modern Japanese music, as well. However, with just this short history, further research on modern Japanese music is much more accessible, and Japanese culture feels more familiar. Just this much about Japanese music would help an average American to begin to rise above the confines of standard Western musical styles.
Works Cited
Emmert, Richard. "Noh Preview: Kakegoe Drum Calls." Mainichi Daily News 22 Apr. 1986. 21 Feb. 2006
Faiola, Anthony. "Japan's Empire of Cool." The Washington Post 27 Dec. 2003. 3 Apr. 2006
Fisher, Paul. “The Music of Japan.” Far Side Music. Jan. 2005. 18 Feb. 2006
Fujie, Linda. "Popular Music." Handbook of Japanese Popular Culture. Ed. Richard G. Powers and Hidetoshi Kato. New York: Greenwood P, 1989. 197-220.
Galliano, Luciana. Yōgaku : Japanese Music in the Twentieth Century. Trans. Martin Mayes. Lanham: Scarecrow P, 2002.
"Interview: Blowing Meditation." Nyogetsu. 20 Mar. 2006 http://www.nygogetsu.com/blowingmeditation.htm.
“Japanese Traditional Music.” 2002. Columbia Music Entertainment. 20 Feb. 2006 http://jtrad.columbia.jp/.
Malm, William P. Nagauta : the Heart of Kabuki Music. Tokyo: Tuttle Co, 1963.
Music of Bunraku. Dirs. Eugene Enrico and Dave Smeal. Videocassette. Early Music Television, 1991.
Sukiyaki and Chips : the Japanese Sounds of Music. Dir. Jeremy Marre. Videocassette. Shanachie Entertainment, 1994.
"What is Noh & Kyogen." Noh & Kyogen : An Introduction to Noh & Kyogen. 2004. Japan Arts Council. 28 Feb. 2006 http://www2.ntj.jac.go.jp/unesco/noh/en/nohgaku.html.
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Essays 2007-2008
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Jim Park's Exhibition in President's Gallery
Ran Li
The exhibition for Jim Park’s works started on February 11 in President’s Gallery and will end on April 11.The exhibition title is "A Stillness in the Land". Jim Park got his Bachelor degree of Fine Arts in Brigham Young University in 1995 and then he got his Master degree of Fine Arts in Northern Illinois University. From 1998 to 1999, Jim Park was a substitute teacher in Milton School District. Now he is an assistant professor of Department of Art and Design in Minnesota State University Moorhead.2000 to present, he is an active member of Department committees. Jim Park has a lot of publications.
The paintings in the exhibition are of two very different mediums and experiences. The oil paintings are of Jim’s hometown (Driggs, Idaho) and memories of Teton Valley and the oil pastel paintings are of abstract landscapes and imaginary settings.
The oil paintings were created from Jim's desire to capture some of the visual beauty of Teton Valley before it is altered forever, due to growth. Several views that Jim has chosen to display in the exhibition are from specific locations where he would spend his leisure time as a youth-such as Teton Creek and Teton River where he has done a lot of fishing. Some of the places where his friends, family and he would venture to are gone, yet many are still as he remembers them as a boy. The other old paintings are scenes demonstrating the grandeur and beauty of that special part of Idaho that will always be his home.
"During the spring of 2005, with the help of a Minnesota State University Moorhead Faculty Development Grant, and Lakes Region Arts Council-McKnight Foundation Career Development Grant, I was able to spend three weeks in and around Driggs, documenting my memories of the beauty of this valley.” Jim said,” One hope I have is to continue this personally work because I feel much of the beauty of this landscape will be taken away from future generations to visually enjoy if it's not recorded."
The other group of paintings in this show is a collection of imaginary scenes and abstract compositions created in oil pastels-the medium of Jim's art training. His intent with that body of work is to provide an opportunity to convey an evolving awareness and comprehension of the importance of our relationships one with another the places we find ourselves within. Jim has chosen the symbolic shapes of trees, buildings, walls and shadows and their relationship to one another to achieve a subtle spiritual narrative and a powerful visual impact. Atmosphere and mood create the psychological isolation associated within those compositions and enhance optimistic feelings of a world rich with beauty, warmth, comfort and opportunity.
"To me, these oil pastel paintings are more about mood and surface characteristics than the image itself. I want each painting to be visually stimulating from a distance, but as you move in for closer observation you discover the coloration of layers, scratches and marks within the surface that it becomes more engaging.” Jim said,” My painting technique creates a sense of rhythm, variety and interest, which remind me of life with its constant changes, gains and losses."
In a dramatic setting of no particular place, those images are rich in color, texture and surface and have an intimacy and luminosity that invite the viewer into Jim's paintings toward stability, optimism, light, and hope.
This exhibition gives students majoring in art a good chance to learn from other people’s works. It also brings both visual and spiritual enjoyment to people.
P.S. reporter: Ran Li
