Introduction
“You know,” he went on; “novels are
the fruit of the human illusion that we can understand
our fellow man. But what do we know about each other?”
“Nothing,” said Bibi….
“The only thing we can do,” said Banaka,
“is to give an account of our own selves. Anything else
is an abuse of power. Anything else is a lie.”
“”True, how true!” Bibi agreed
enthusiastically. “I don’t want to write a novel. That
wasn’t what I meant. What I want to do is exactly what
you’ve been saying: write about myself, an account of my
life. And I won’t hide the fact I live an absolutely ordinary,
everyday life and nothing special has ever happened to
me…Because it’s what goes on in me, on the inside, that’s
worth writing about, that people will want to read about.”
—Kundera
1982:89-90
In order
to explore life-history research in the context of education
I embarked on a process of creating art from autobiography
that was both visual and written. This project involved
created a series of postcards as a public display entitled My
Trip to the Ivory Tower: Postcards Sent to Myself. This project engages with both creating autobiographical narratives
and self-portraits, what I term double exposure. The
paper begins by exploring, in detail, the four postcards
and reflects on the process of creating them. I first
provide a description of the image and second, I focus
on the writing on the back of each postcard. I relate
the creation of these self-portraits to visual culture
theory and theories of photographic representation. I
explore the process and theory involved in writing autobiographical
narratives as public art. From this, I ask: why is this
series of postcards useful for thinking about education?
On
Postcards
I decided
to create this autobiographical narrative of being a
graduate student as a series of postcards to say something
about my desires and my fears. To weave into this artwork
both theory and reflections from my readings would create
something more than an academic paper. My interest was
to try to bring divergent ideas together in ways that
took into account hopes, dreams, fears—and that allowed
for playing with theory in a way that was not a linear
progression from academic reading to the writing of an
academic paper with a linearly developed argument. As
W.J.T. Mitchell (1995:5) suggests, “all media is mixed
media,” and it is the interaction between text and image
that constitutes representation. Following from Mitchell
who suggests that we “picture theory” instead of focusing
on a “theory of pictures,” this project embarked on creating
a textual and visual autography and was an experiment
creating images to help think theory. The text and images
read as co-constitutive and weaves in my understanding
of theory and how as a graduate student I have experienced
this theory.
I had
been thinking about this project for almost a year, after
I had written a section of my Master’s thesis as a letter
to my Mom. I had decided to write that section as a letter
remembering writing advice, grade school writing exercises
that involved letter writing to pen pals, and having
read how letter writing can be a teaching tool to improve
literacy. After working on this section of my thesis
I became fascinated with how, when and to whom we write
letters and how much of this letter writing is about
writing to those back home.
My fascination
with writing back home did not stay focused on the letter.
It was the postcard with its interesting weave of image
and narrative and its form as an open yet closed letter
that piqued my curiosity. Yoke-Sum Wong (2001:355) refers
to the postcard as an “open post sheet” (offenes Postblatt). For Alan Bock and Sheri Klein (1996:23) “postcards
are visual announcements: often images of historic landmarks,
scenic-by-ways, waysides; panoramic, birds-eye, or close-up
views of places or objects of desire; suggestions of
intrigue or historical importance.” Block and Klein (1996)
also suggest that the postcard is an effective way that
students can embark on currere,
that is, writing about their experience with education.
By not only writing these postcards, but creating self-portraits
as the images for the postcards, this project exposed
through both images and narrative my experience as a
graduate student in education.
The form
of the postcard is provocative. Postcards are often seen
as transitory; ephemeral, everyday items that are designed
to be discarded after they are used. It is this everyday
quality of the postcard “and the ritualistic performance
many Westerners engage in when writing and sending postcards
which makes them important objects of cultural analysis”
(Waitt and Head 2002:320). If the ritual of writing a
postcard is used as a way to write one’s experience with
education, what is included in this message and how is
the ritual changed?
The postcard
with its “open” text is very different than the letter,
or the journal and this intrigued me. Carson (1998:100)
explores how writings are “sealed up in the folds of
books,” and with it how writings are not only sealed,
but conceal meaning since meaning is made through the
collusion between the reader and the writer. Even though
the postcards seem to be an open letter, I want to suggest
that my project, with its openness of form, plays with
both revealing and concealing.
Many well-known
writers and artists have also turned their attention
to the postcard (Derrida, Schor, Edwards, Geary, Block
and Klein, and Cronin to name but a few). One such example
is Derrida’s well-known work La Carte Postal: From
Freud to Socrates (1983), according to Spivak (1984:29) “History is
seen here [in La Carte Postal]
as a series of chain letters written on postcards.” The
construction of meaning and with it what will count as
meaningful or the making of history is recognized in
this work as a range of complex social processes that
rely on naturalized practices of representation.
History
is not a series of discrete events that narrate themselves.
“Carried in and through pictures and languages are social
constructions, or naturalized, commonsense views or ‘ways
of seeing’ the world that are more than the sum of the
words or imagery” (Waitt and Head 2002:320). Postcards
and the ritual of sending them home when one travels
to new places constructs a view or “way of seeing” the
new destination. As well, the writing back home serves
to re-establish the meaning of home and one’s place at
home even while absent.
As I began
this project I started collecting old postcards. Some
of these were postcards I had sent home while I was away
traveling in Asia or working in remote regions of Canada.
What all of these postcards had in common was that they
told about being somewhere new, somewhere that was not
home, yet these were everyday stories. Everyday stories,
especially the stories of struggling to understand new
situations and contradictions held within these situations,
can be a site of education. These stories of lives can
be found in many everyday writings—from diaries, writings
on backs of photos in family albums, to letters or postcards
home (Kuhn 1995:13).
These
stories and the act of writing them are often only seen
as a form of informal personal correspondence and as
such excluded from being considered part of education
or more particularly discounted as a curricular text
or tool. Facilitating the connection of students’ everyday
experiences with the curriculum is a way of privileging
other stories, other perspectives, and other histories
beyond the academic canon. Stanley (1995:25) suggests
that some of the most popular stories of lives lived
are those of famous, self-made men.
Other
stories of lives lived were often not recorded due to
an unease about literacy levels—these stories of everyday
lives were boring—as well as a lack of time to engage
in the construction of complete memoirs. Unpublished
stories of everyday lives are often not considered as
part of the knowledge making practice. The academic canon
might draw on published memories of famous people, but
the autobiography of students is often overlooked as
a text to be included in the curriculum and is often
not considered as the first place meaning is made. This
project is interested in disrupting the stories we tell
about our lives as graduate students and explore the
contradictions experienced in the telling.
The
Display
Entitled Postcards
to Myself,
this series of postcards was publicly displayed. The
postcards are 4x7 inches, the size of a postcard you
might buy, but these are mounted to foam board making
them thicker than a regular post card. For this display,
the four postcards were suspended from the ceiling,
as if they were floating on air, which contributed
to the metaphor of flight and flying. By having them
suspended like this people could touch them and read
the message on the back. There was only a small tag
and one paragraph write-up that accompanied them. The
write up was as follows:
My
Trip to the Ivory Tower
My work
on narratives and particularly autobiography has made
me question how and what do I remember and how do I then
write about these memories? This series of postcards
explores the difficulty of writing the self, writing
to the self and remembering.
I had
written privately about my encounters with the academic
landscape. For me, this trip through
the academic landscape had let me meet head on my anxieties
about theory, research, expectations and knowing just
how much I don’t know. By experimenting with photographing
myself as other and writing to a muse, I begin a response
to the question – how can I write these memories into
public spaces?
Pariss
Garramone
Doctoral
Student
Faculty
of Education
Stories
of Self
This project
explores visual autobiography, that is, how the everyday
can be imaged and written as a postcard. I am interested
in how working creatively with both images and short
narratives can weave together an autobiography of learning.
This is a journey about memories, stories, anxieties,
reading/writing and pictures. The practice of creating
autobiographical tellings struggles with the theoretical
aspects of life-history. It is by “doing” life-history
re-search that I meet again, and differently, the theory
involved with writing the self. In fact, I see my work
as creating a theoretical understanding through critical
practice (Cole and Knowles 2001:14).
I see
my autobiographical writing as a form of feminist confession,
yet not an essentialist claim to identity. My work is
about confessing to my actions, my writings, and to what
I think are the motives behind the writings. This is
a confession—a confession about the performance and ritual
of confessing and is also a response to the question—how
do I write these memories into public spaces? Memory
is always partial, fragmentary and by bringing one story
of the past into focus, other stories are left untold.
Versions of my past might be told differently at different
times depending on my present perspective. My
role as author privileges my interpretation and my selection
of what is remembered and how it is remembered. Once
written and an image made only certain phenomena are
defined as meaningful (Weiler 1998:40). I have made choices
about how to frame my experience, choosing to record
and reflect on what, at the time of writing, I found
engaging. Stanley (1995:25) eloquently weaves together
the constructed nature of experience, and limits of language
needed to represent these experiences as she states:
In
diaries, letters and photographs we present a version
of ourselves that is partial. It leaves out bits of us
that we think the reader or viewer might not want to
know about, or that we might want to keep a secret. The
account has a specific frame. There may be no such simple
unproblematic thing as the ‘real truth about me’ in a
journal, letter or picture, just endless interesting
versions of ourselves, different not only each moment
but in each letter, journal page, poem or photograph.
The view
of the past depends on the perspective of the present
for its interpretation. This fragmentary
nature of memory narration is an important aspect
of autobiography. For Lambek and Antze (1996:xiii), “…memory
begins when experience itself is definitively past. The
ground between the spectator and the object of her gaze
begins to lengthen, the connections between the two grow
uncertain.”
I align
my engagement with autobiographical narration with how
bell hooks in her autobiographical book, Bone Black (1996)
describes continually re-visiting, re-visioning and re-negotiating
the past as part of knowing the present, and as part
of creating a process of one’s own sense making. Autobiography,
or the process of making sense from experience is an
integral part of identity construction and involves the
continually reweaving of personal and public history.
As Kuhn (1995:4) states:
Memory
work makes it possible to explore connections between
‘public’ historical events, structures of feeling, family
dramas, relations of class, national identity and gender,
and ‘personal’ memory.
Autobiographies
are joint tellings created by listener and teller (Borland
1998:73; Skultans 1998:13; Lambek and Antze 1996:xix).
The author/artist and the audience co-create meaning
from the art of autobiography. As Anne
Carson (1998:108) suggests writing is seductive, and
the relationship between reader and writer is like symbolic
intercourse whereby two halves are brought together to
make a whole, a collusion of meaning making. However,
the meaning made from autobiography can be prescriptive.
Jago (1996) argues that stories are constraining since
they set out “norms” that in turn render other stories
as abnormal.
Although
we constitute our experience through narration, stories
can be constraining…As vehicles for social control, these
canonical or received stories provide a cultural frame
through which we construe our lived experience. For example,
in Western culture, the canonical family story outlines
the loving and secure presence of a mother, father, and
their biological children. Growing up in Western culture,
our experiences as family members are interpreted in
relation to this narrative frame, and when a family does
not fit the canonical model, words like abnormal or dysfunctional
are often applied.
Jago (1996)
focus is on the stories we tell about families, but all
stories can be constraining and this project is interested
in disrupting the stories we tell about our lives as
graduate students.
The visual
and narrative artwork of this postcard series creates
multiple layers of autobiography. The self-portraits
provide one autobiographical narrative and the autobiographical
writing on the back of the postcard provides another.
These layers offer a complex woven story of the self,
where a plot and also the beginning, middle, and end
of the story are ambiguous. The non-linear autobiographical
narratives and distorted self-portraits as postcard images
open out into multiple readings where there are many
ways to make meaning from this story.
On
My Trip of Feather and Flight
These
narratives work as a series moving from the idea of a
single feather, to the search for wings and finally to
the creation of my own wings from finding feathers. The
images develop this metaphor as it is carried through
the narratives. I used the theme of flight—flying, wings,
travel, and the ghost-like muse of Amelia Earhart to
link together my experience with graduate education with
my childhood desire to be a pilot, my fear of heights
and flying in planes. By using the metaphor of flight
to represent my experience with the quest for knowledge,
I wanted to explore the complexity of language and the
use of metaphor.
Carson
(1998:50) describes how written words have edges; there
is an individuality of words, and edges to their meaning:
“In language there are only differences” (Carson 1998:51).
However, it is through the imaginative nature of metaphor
that differences and sameness are positioned together. Carson goes on to explain how, with metaphor, the imagination
brings together two different things and it is the realization
of their differences and similarities at the same time
that is the delight of metaphor. How might metaphors
be used in memory work by and of the self?
All of
the postcards have a similar structure with a message
section, postmarked stamps and the same address. The
postcards begin with Dear Amelia, which is then followed
by the news of my “travels” and end with a closing salutation.
Amelia refers to Amelia Earhart, the first female pilot
who flew the Atlantic in 1937 and whose plane was lost
over the Bermuda Triangle. I decided she would be the
muse to whom I would write these postcards. The first
three cards end with suggesting I will be writing more
soon and the fourth postcard ends with “Bye for now.”
Even though the postcards were never sent they all include
stamps and are postmarked. Postcard 1 has a stamp from
the US, postcard 2 has a stamp from China and both postcard
3 and 4 have stamps from Canada. All have the same address:
Amelia, Clouds or Waves, Sky or Sea, S0S 9I1.
In the
first postcard I used the image of a feather floating.
The image is in sepia tones and is a lone feather on
its side. It is an image that seems simple, but the feather
is the main component of a bird’s wing used for fight.
The feather is also a writing quill and a symbol for
writing that is main component for the flight of an academic.
For the
back of postcard 1, I addressed the postcard to Amelia,
and began by suggesting that the card reminded me of
her and our mutual dream “to fly.”
I do not
specify what type of flight, just that we both have a
dream to fly. I am suggesting here that my dream to fly
is to have creative ideas that take fight—that take me
to new places of understanding. I go on to talk about
a here that is different. I use the line from a Joni Mitchell
song “the strange pillows of my wonder lust” to suggest
that I am away from the comfort of a home where I can
take refuge in the familiar. In the narrative I play
with the idea that the authors, the famous academics,
such as Marx, that I am reading are actually having conversations
with me. I suggest in the narrative that it is not only
the theorists who are speaking to me, but many others.
I use the idea from my readings in feminist epistemology
of listening responsibly to the Other.
The postcards
are one of the ways that some of my personal writings
are “put into circulation” (the etymology of the word
published/public). As a graduate student, I am now faced
with having to publish academic papers, present at conferences,
and make my work public. The form of the postcards was
one way that I explored the fear of making my writing
public. I also wrote these postcards with an audience
in mind by using a muse to focus this writing and to
make the writing process more intimate. However I still
knew that this project was public art and that many others
would be reading and judging these images and narratives.
A muse is described in the Oxford Dictionary as “one
of nine sister-goddesses, the offspring of Zeus and Mnemosyne
(Memory), regarded as the inspirers of learning and the
arts, especially of poetry and music.”
Amelia
Earhart extends the metaphor of flight and for me is
a heroic figure that embodies the challenges of being
a woman in a position that is socially constructed as
masculine. Initially, I had wondered if Amelia Earhart
was a fictional character, and this contributed to an
ethereal, mythical quality of who Amelia was, and who
Amelia Earhart is now. I did not disclose in the postcards
any details about Amelia. I chose to include only an
address and postal code. By addressing these postcards
to Amelia I hoped to create a sense that as readers the
audience was reading someone’s secrets, someone else’s
mail. I wanted to seduce the audience into reading what
they might think are private letters. I was playing with
the desire we have to know someone else, to read about
their life.
By leaving
out Amelia’s last name I wanted to suggest the uncertainty
of the postcard’s arrival. The process of postcard writing
is uncertain; will the postcards be received? Would they
be read only by the person to whom the postcards were
addressed? Writing the narratives for the postcard project
involved similar uncertainty: Who was going to read them?
This returns to Spivak’s idea of History being a chain
letter written on postcards. The uncertainty of the postcard
reaching its destination is a metaphor for the uncertain
practice of writing in academics. Who will read your
writings and what will they do, how will they respond?
The form
of the postcard project allowed me to explore the anxiety
that I have as a graduate student with the process of
writing publicly and with it making meaning/making History
and theory. The privileged practices of representation,
such as academic writing and photographic “truth making,”
naturalize and make invisible the constructed nature
of History. However, by imagining History as a chain
letter on postcards reveals the random, uncertain, and
constructed narrative components of making “truth” claims
in the form of History and theory.
The second
postcard in the series is an image of me looking through
a magnifying glass at a feather and the feather is reflected
in my eye, which is distorted by the magnification. The
image here represents searching—for feathers, for wings
and for the ability to fly. The reflection of the feather
in my eye (I) is about the difficulty of seeing, interpretation,
and the problems of research coupled with the desire
to fly with new ideas.
The image
in combination with the narrative of the second postcard
suggests searching for wings and “ the difficulty of
seeing from here.” What I am suggesting is that perspective
poses a difficulty in research and in the practice of
theory making. The eye and the technologies of seeing,
as well as the “I”—the creation of the self, are intimately
linked. With this image I want to suggest that to think
about seeing and seeing differently involves interrogating
subject positions and interiority.
This postcard
was an exploration of my experience as a graduate student
using “I” in my academic writing. My experience as a
student was that in many disciplines revealing the constructed
nature of the research and authorship in academic writing
is discouraged, since it is deemed “subjective.” My work
creating this postcard was to disrupt the seductive quality
of so-called “objective” writing, where the I is removed
and the constructed nature of the writing, in terms of
perspective and the constructed nature of theory, could
be revealed.
As Spivak
(1984:28) suggests “[the] self-addressed letter …is a
good definition of the “ego,” an ensemble of a carte
postale [postal map] where all sorts of things arriving
here and there combine to produce an ego-effect…the subject’s
irreducible plurality.” In this postcard project I am
both subject and object and the oscillation between the
two offers a complexity to the reading of this autobiography.
“One must always remember that the word “subject” can
mean both subject matter (object) and the self” (Spivak
1984:24). It is this oscillation between subject and
object that makes this project a double exposure. Lambek
and Antze (1996:xxix) argue that, “[i]dentity is not
composed of a fixed set of memories but lies in the dialectical,
careless activity of remembering and forgetting, assimilating
and discarding.” As postcards are seen as ephemeral,
working with them as a form for self-writing is one way
this project attempted to take-up the partial and fragmentary
nature of memory work.
The third
postcard in the series is the image of an open book,
with one of the pages being a distorted image of me writing
the words of Thomas King, “The truth about stories is
that that’s all we are.” My interest in producing this
image involved articulating the complicated nature of
reading, writing, and making meaning. What do we do with
the ideas we find of others that help us make sense of ourselves? How do we re-write them and
re-produce them in our work?
The third
postcard is about feeling hazy. This hazy feeling is
about ambiguity and about feeling unsure. Past ways of
feeling secure have failed, what will help? This narrative
is interested in linking theory—that of bell hooks and
of the words of Jack Kerouac. Memories and dreams are
tied together as is the process of learning, which I
discuss as re-working the past.
I
wanted to explore how the process of writing and reading
are interconnected. As a writer I have a desire to connect
with the reader/audience of my work. Yet, there is always
the unknown, ambiguous aspect of writing or creating
art—what another will do with your work can never be
known in advance. As a graduate student I am coming to
terms with this ambiguity that is ever present in the
practice of writing and making art. The form of the postcard
served to incorporate this ambiguity and the resulting
anxiety, since the arrival of the postcard at its destination
is always unknown, and the name or identify of the person
who will read the message on the back is also never known.
The final
image is of the feather, my side and outstretched arm
linked with an arch and square. This is an attempt to
re-create a version of DaVinci’s famous quest for flight
drawing. This image reflects the ways in which things
are re-visionsed and re-made as a way of linking new
ideas to things in the past.
Postcard
4 continues this idea of re-working the past through
the image and the narrative as I write that the wings
I am in search of are not to be found, but are to be
made from the feathers I find in my travels through academia.
In the postcard note my writing focuses on traveling
to unknown spaces, and about learning to trust myself
to get me there.
I have
discussed how my postcard project explored revealing
self-images and a sense of vulnerability through writing
about anxiety and emotions. However, my work is also
about concealing. I created these images and then re-crafted
the images, “cleaning up” the image, in particular the
image for Postcard 4. I removed the natural outline of
my body for a “better,” more attractive body image, and
one that I felt less vulnerable having on public display.
As much
as I had hoped to create self-images that challenged
and contradicted popular images of women, I “cleaned
up” my photos. Was I not motivated to disrupt the popular
fiction of a woman’s body, my body, of being thin, and
resembling the female models in the media? It was here,
struggling to negotiate these small contradictions, (first
during the making of the postcards, and then again, when
I had to write about “cleaning-up” the photos) that led
me to a new appreciation of just how insidious normalizing
stories (and visual narratives) can be. How my body looked
challenged the “normal” story of how women’s bodies should
look, and in the visual narrative of this postcard project
I chose to re-write my body with Photoshop techniques.
The “cleaned
up” autobiographical stories of being a fearless, independent
researcher and graduate student are often what we like
to tell each other and possibly even ourselves. The travels
of graduate students are a much messier experience than
the few lines we include on our academic CVs. Cleaning
up these stories might also mean ignoring our fears about
education and academics, that is, writing publicly about
our experience of seeing things differently.
Conclusion
Do
the letters say anything that could not be said otherwise?
—Carson
1998:96
In this project I wanted to explore the
writing of everyday stories of being a graduate student
and how metaphor can be one way of engaging imaginative
meaning making with the audience of my work. I was deliberately
elusive throughout the narratives and images in the postcard
project. I was very aware of the multiple readings that
are possible with work that is publicly engaged with. I
wanted to explore how to play with the ambiguity of creating
art, never knowing how others would read it. I wanted to
leave gaps, openings, cracks for other meanings, other
readings beyond my own intentions. The autobiographical
story/confession “can be a message in a bottle, sent out
in the (not always greatly hopeful) belief that it may
somewhere wash up on land, on heartland perhaps” (Felman
1992:37).
I see this postcard project
as crafted, playful—a rendering of the collage of the
emotions associated with my experience as a graduate
student. hooks (1996:xv) states that “the events described
are always less significant than the impressions they
leave on the mind and heart.” Reflecting on my
experience as a graduate student has been important for
how I have come to understand autobiography and how it
contributes to the practice of making theory and its
importance for education. The creation of this postcard
project has lead me to document my process of learning.
As Anne Carson (1998:55) states:
Think how much energy,
time and emotion goes into that effort of learning: it
absorbs years of your life and dominates your self-esteem;
it informs much of your subsequent endeavours to grasp
and communicate with the world.
By reflecting
on this time of learning as a graduate student I have been
able to play with theory, incorporate it into my own stories
and change it, as I need to. As Spivak (1984:30) suggests,
“what happens when we read theoretical texts as itineraries
of desire? Not a “rejection” of theory, but a recognition
that it is subject to production.”
Autobiographical
writing when combined with theory offer new ways to read
theory that help frame both autobiography and theory as
constructed and always, ever partial. The postcard project
is an on-going reflective process, whereby re-visiting
these narratives and images help generate new understandings
of the linkage between theory and practice and the role
of autobiography in the study of education. Memory, “literally,
a re-saying, a further bearing witness to one’s own witness,
this re-saying is not merely a recall, but always a renewal
of the possibility of the past, which may innovate and
interrupt the performance of the present” (Simon, 2000:23).
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