Food Of Love - Anthony Capella

Published in Incorporating Writing, Issue 4 Vol 3, July 2007

Food of Love by Anthony Capella provides the reader with a raw taste of Italy. This novel celebrates Italian food as a way of life, with a culture that revolves around eating to show social status, style and knowledge. Capella travels extensively in Italy and this is evident through his writing - Food of Love is a clear and accessible reference which provides those who have not travelled to the country with an insightful and colourful illustration. This novel is also a warm and affectionate reminiscence for those who have experienced the country of Capella's subject.

This writing style enables the contrasts within the novel. References to food and to Italy are written with an enthralling, deeply authentic style with a use of Italian phrases, recipes and food based metaphors. This honest clarity is contrasted with Capella's characters where his writing is occasionally clumsy, plodding and unremarkable. In some ways this is very effective as is emphasises the main character, an American exchange student called Laura, in contrast to her new found environment. Laura's story unfolds as Tommaso enlists the help of his friend Bruno's culinary skills in order to win her heart.

As Laura is besotted with the food, and Tommaso, Bruno falls in love with her (completing the triangle), as his cooking communicates his passion. Laura's character becomes the most endearing - perhaps as she is from a culture more similar to ours or perhaps because Capella is aware of a predominantly female readership. This character is then maintained through the reader's empathy for her, caused by the passionate descriptions of the enchanting food. It is these emotive elements that make the reader more receptive to the novel as a whole.

The characters seem secondary in Capella's style to the food; a tool to illustrate his culinary descriptions. The reader is placed as an equal among the characters through the social nature of eating within the plot, the subjectivity of food and writing in the 3rd person. This is the success of the book - the reader is included in the action and seduced, echoing the characters.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - Jean-Dominique Bauby

In essence, this novel is not primarily about its character, a medical condition or circumstance. 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' discusses divisions and constancy in existence, examining what experiences are integral to humanity.

Bauby's biographical account of Locked-In Syndrome is powerfully both reflective and reflexive. Describing his condition through a painstaking method of dictation, 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' is considered and measured, yet candidly responds to his condition through his use of language. His dictation (controlled by eye-blinks) shows dedication and intelligence in his sparkling, well referenced writing, a feat of patient-induced patience.

Bauby's humanity is evident through his writing style. Although his slow dictation removes humour and spark in his daily conversations, his character is abundant in his writing. This divide (and the gulf between his life before and after his illness) is amplified through his use of structure to contrast and compare experiences, emotions and reactions.

With a delicate, rhythmic style - snappy and poetic in turns - he outlines his existence and circumstances. This rhythm echoes Bauby's moods and refers to his memories to follow the passage of time and Bauby's ability. Slowing as his capability fades; the author begins to admit to a sense of sadness and finality.

Bauby finds his humanity through interaction - letters and visits anchor him and lead to his greatest concern being his investment in those people around him. The author shows a great tenderness for friends' co-operation, help and support; concluding that when all else is lost, emotion is a necessity. Bauby shows little bitterness towards his disability, he writes with warmth and thankfulness that through relationships he maintains his emotional ability.

Reality has become a shocking existence to both the author, those around him and eventually to the reader. Bauby makes us aware of our own existence through his narrative, describing a changing and evolving sense of self. Feeling that he 'belonged on a vegetable stall and not to the human race' (p.90), his thoughts and ideas are somehow abstracted from his physicality.

Bauby's relationship to reality is increasingly fragile.

Through dream like descriptions, Bauby suggests that reality is paired with sensation and he lacks this to root him to the world. His imagination is allowed to take over - consequentially his reality is not in the here and now. Bauby's imagination becomes a powerful tool in maintaining his quality of life, helping to overcome his isolation and loss of sensation.

Isolation here is not just bodily, but also in a lack of medical knowledge. Bauby's resulting dependence is almost childlike; exemplified by his increasing reliance on his imagination. His awareness of this makes the novel a success. The use of metaphors contrasts this unusual situation with a continuity of life, questioning the nature of humanity.

Through a compassionate translation from the French, Bauby's expressive details are able to combine in synergy - his dark humour and sincerity form a modest and open culmination. Although the author is clearly rooted in French culture his experiences are universally emotive. Bauby's writing is accessible and understandable, clearly communicating locked-in-syndrome through a beautifully crafted, skilful writing style.

Like Water for Chocolate - Laura Esquivel

Published in Incorporating Writing Issue 4 Vol. 4

'Like Water for Chocolate' is a compelling, fresh and honest love story by Laura Esquivel. The plot centres on Tita who as youngest daughter is bound by tradition to care for her mother. By increasingly challenging her family's traditional rules and expectations Tita finds her own identity. Tita is the domestic stereotype breaking free of her contextual constraints; the kitchen is her territory where she recreates the foods of her culture, taking ownership of them through recipes and creation.

Revolution is a main theme in this novel. Set during the Mexican Revolution, 'Like Water for Chocolate' is deeply rooted in this context, and epitomises Magic Realism in its Latin American culture and post modern enchantment to celebrate of the wonder of everyday life. 'Like Water for Chocolate' was translated to English in 1992 after its success in its original Spanish (published 1989). Both the novel and its subsequent film version achieved critical acclaim as Latin American culture began to thrive in English speaking countries. The success of Esquivel's writing is within her emphasis of both the deeply culturally bound, and the universal experiences such as food, love and passion. Tita and her contemporaries are rebellious, both in conjunction with the Mexican Revolution and on a more personal level.

A balance between revolution and tradition is evident through the characters of Dr. Brown and Morning Light; the rationalised scientist and the alternative healer, who teach and inspire each other. The awareness of internal and external existence illustrated by these characters is crucial to the novel. Tita's moods affect the tastes and experience of her menus in contrast to the food's restorative and nurturing effects. This reasoned approach to the mythical reflects the application of tradition in contemporary society and relationship between the characters and food within the plot ricochets between cause and effect. Food is deeply embedded with associations from memory, tradition, and culture.

Tita creates dishes which have unprecedented effects on those who eat them, her food creates a magic spell which heightens the senses and communicates in a deep and powerful way. Tita personifies the complex relationship between people, life and food, which is an awareness that seems to fluctuate in contemporary society as we battle with ideas about nutrition, diet and social aspects to nutrition.

Esquivel's writing is very tactile and luscious to illustrate how Tita's cooking intrinsically links food and emotion. Tita oscillates between love and passion, and a distinction between these two is never clearly defined. Rejecting John's gentle adoration for Pedro's forbidden excitement, is the all consuming passion that she finds true love? 'Like Water for Chocolate' refers to boiling water to make hot chocolate, which is also a well known phrase to suggest passion. These twin meanings indicate a heat, arousal and expectation concurrent to revolution. Food acts as a direct metaphor for passion - as an aphrodisiac, or simply within the physical pleasure of eating.

The plot revolves around Tita's recipes. Each chapter pivots around a traditional recipe (which is not necessarily for food), explaining method and relevance which helps the reader to empathise with the culture. The novel is structured around the months of the year and these instalments indicate change and continuation, but the contents are not confined to this timeframe. This structure reinforces the idea of knowledge circling and being handed down the generations and through this recurrence, making the novel more identifiable. These staccato bulletins create informality and punctuate the swollen, intense lyrical verses.

Focussing on recipes (in contrast to food) indicates domination and authorship. The ingredients listings signify Tita's choices and her attempts to control a situation that she feels powerless in, much like the way that Chencha's lies enable her manipulation of events. Each food is symbolic, and by breaking down a menu (and the novel) into component parts we are able to understand it better. These recipes therefore develop the novel through structure and imagery, reflecting Tita as being about her and by her, fleshing out the recipe book she writes within the story. The recipes also help to highlight stereotypes in this novel's characters, such as the emphasis of the clash of maternal traits between Nancha and Mama Elena.

Esquivel's 'Like Water for Chocolate' is a humorous, chaotic and celebratory novel which rejoices in an exploration of topics that it is fundamentally unable to define. It cleverly opens up a specific culture with accessible anchors, reminding us of the importance of honest pleasures as 'when the talk turns to eating, a subject of the greatest importance, only fools and sick men don't give it the attention it deserves'.

Unfreeze the P's - Bobby Baker

Published in Inside Out Magazine, Issue 1

Bobby Baker is a painter turned performance artist, making work which celebrates the everyday by emphasising the wonder of the ordinary to reveal and inspire. Baker's work reflects her own life experiences, often referring to her domesticity through using culinary props. Her work is very inclusive; it is understandable and relevant to any audience. This seems to be especially effective in 'How to Live', a culmination of experiment-based collaborative work with Professor Richard Hallam, a clinical psychologist at Queen Mary's Hospital.

Humour and instruction slowly reveal the basics of psychotherapy, as per her own unique interpretation. Through her light touch, she explores the principles of therapy in a straightforward and credible manner. The piece is an antidote to pop-psychology and the self-help boom, which Baker believes replace religion in contemporary society. Baker's style is borrowed from instructional videos and so the work is a parody aesthetically as well as within its content.

'How to Live' discusses Baker's own experiences of Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, a type of CBT. In this, you are initially taught life skills - Baker's piece teaches her patient (a frozen pea) a set of such skills to develop a 'life worth living'. These skills, and the work as a whole, are for those with mental health experiences of their own, those without direct knowledge, and frozen vegetables. This aims to help the audience procure a greater understanding of the therapy and perhaps enrich, or unfreeze, their lives a little.

The pea represents all the P.'s of psychology, and also Baker's perceived insignificance and isolation as a patient. The pea's therapy is a very warm, human one - personifying him and suggesting that patients are dehumanised. This could be due to the type of therapy or that the patient - through illness, lack of knowledge or pop-psychology media hype - can feel distant to their treatment.

Baker found that therapy made her more aware of herself and her surroundings, the imagery that she was already using and that which was consequently developing. She aims to encourage this understanding in her audience, believing that through presenting her own experiences she encourages others to follow. Ideas and memories can then produce new associations and thought patterns within this artistic context.

'How to Live' shows how psychotherapy can turn a period of difficulty and distress into a positive and enriching experience. It makes psychology more accessible as this science becomes increasingly prevalent in society. It supports the medical profession (Baker has been involved with initiatives such as the launch of the Mental Health Helplines Partnership).

Bobby Baker's new project, 'A Model Family', is concerned with psychological issues in the family, drawing on Baker's own experiences to consider aspects of mental health care and attitudes to people who are mentally ill. This piece is in development as part of Bakers' AHRC Creative Fellowship at Queen Mary University of London, where it previewed in May, with the final piece's production planned for 2009. Baker's work can be explored in more detail at www.bobbybakersdailylife.com

Company of Liars - Karen Maitland

For Dreamcatcher Magazine, Autumn 2008

Karen Maitland's historical thriller, Company of Liars, discusses the boundary between fact and fiction; immersing historical fragments in a contemporary filmic thriller - reminiscent of The Canterbury Tales, through to The Hounds of the Baskervilles and Final Destination.

The novel follows the journey of a group of outcasts through Mediaeval plague ridden Britain. With new members of the collective joining through the journey, each is united in their need for support and to escape the plague; yet each character carries their own secrets and is running from their own pasts, fears and pursuers. These pursuers quickly become characterised as a 'wolf'; as a hunter, a debt collector from the church, through to a mythical symbol of individuals' deepest anxieties.

The characters create distance, both metaphorical and actual. As outcasts, the characters have a chosen, and been forced to be distanced from society. The evolution of their group creates safety, yet one that is still internally fragile. The pace is controlled by a drive for distance, anonymity and safety - as the 'wolf' gains on the company the narrative quickens, ebbing back to a resigned fatefulness as Camelot returns home. The ebb and flow of the narrative (which encircles Camelot), echoes the sense of separation and yet also stalks the main protagonist in a playful manner, hinting at Narigorm's childlike impact on the unfurling events. Whereas Camelot acts as narrator at times, Narigorm's omniscience suggests that she represents fate, and so she dictates the narrative. With suggestive control over the other characters, she questions the roles of fate and choice - in parallel with the overriding theme of the novel - the line between myth and reality.

The Mediaeval charm is ruthless in its detail, yet the resulting pace and tone is sometimes disrupted by the distinctly modern structure. This disruption is successful; it reminds the reader to question beliefs to redefine fact and fiction, opening up the narrative to reflect contemporary and (somewhat regrettably) universal themes. The gulf between belief and what is proven, worries about outsiders and continual flux in culturally specific morality are as relevant now as in the Middle Ages. This acts to immerse the reader further into the plot - our understanding of the novel is fractured between historical accuracy and mythical fiction which develops a tension where fact is questionable and surprising and myth to be expected. Company of Liars eloquently immerses the reader in a world full of myth and superstition and keeps on the edge between belief and cynicism, suspending expectations.

As the novel queries fear and explores myth, it questions if our imaginings are worse than the reality of humanity. Superstition makes belief easier and humanity quantifiable. Company of Liars emphasises the universality of fears (contradicting successfully as it is deeply contextually bound), the novel is relevant and highly readable.

Ashes of the Amazon - Milton Hatoum

Published in Incorporating Writing, January 2009

At times, Ashes of the Amazon soars in scope, style and storytelling but on occasion Milton Hatoum's new work also leaves you feeling a little short changed.

The novel has the elegant lyricism found in novels skilfully translated from their Brazilian roots, and with this is a robust humour and a light-filled, honeyed hue. The author's occasional uses of cliched literary devices are a stark contrast to this background; puncturing the well paced and engrossing plot.

Ashes of the Amazon establishes itself quickly with a rapid merging between characters. Dreamlike and fleeting, the reader is introduced to the interconnecting protagonists with a simplified differentiation of good and bad. This gushing narrative quickly relaxes into an anecdotal tone that permeates the novel.

As we become more aware of the characters the long time scale of the book is unveiled, and with it the impact of its narrator, Lavo, on the speed and tone of the novel. As Lavo grows up through the course of Ashes of the Amazon, he becomes increasingly prominent within the narrative; with increasing consequence within the plot as he learns more about the characters and becomes more worldly. Although, in one sense, this could be considered a coming of age novel for its narrator, Lavo's friend Mundo is the real protagonist. This is the story of his artistic rebellion, and the mysteries surrounding his family.

Set in the city of Manaus, we watch as the city shifts with a new generation that moves away from the tradition (prized by their parents) to become a shifting, urban landscape. Manaus' residents are from old families, constant in the area and making up a very tight-knit community that is almost incestuous. Mundo's father, Jano, has established himself and his Jute plantation (Vila Amazonia) in the community and is betrayed by his son's wish not to join in the family business. This is a time of societal and cultural shifts, with the forest giving way to the city and the old families being dispersed.

Despite the novel being set in a city, the tight and inherited community is intimate, somewhat claustrophobic and increasingly irrelevant to the new generation. This intimacy often exaggerates an isolation of the characters, exaggerating relationships. Ashes of the Amazon maps the scope of emotion; violence saturates Mundo's adolescence and each character exhibits different forms of love that are original and unique, yet the novel carefully sketches the universality of basic emotional needs.

The scope of the novel opens up with Mundo's travels to Europe, which shifts Ashes of the Amazon to a very different, contextually defined landscape much more relevant to a readership outside of the South Americas. As Vila Amazonia and Jano's mansion are lost, and with them their history and culture, Manaus becomes much more consistent with a contemporary idea of a 'city', commenting comprehensively upon Globalisation and the loss of habitat often associated with it. The developing landscape provides a parallel timescale to the characters, adding depth to the understanding of pace within the novel and to the characters relevance to their surroundings and their family history.

Commercialism, synonymous with globalisation, affects Mundo deeply; the tension between business and making art, in parallel to Aranas' (Mundo's mentor) move from art to selling furniture, fuels his rebellion and underpins his splurging of his inheritance from the estate. As destruction breeds creation, it is necessary for Mundo to leave the old family traditions behind, and for Jano's richly decorated, art laden mansion to be cleared to make way for the new.

Ashes of the Amazon is a novel of smoke and mirrors; it is layered with facade, and with symbolic burning (with the burning of art and burning passions). As the characters' passions and preoccupations cool towards the end of the novel, so too does our empathy for the narrator.

This novel could have wisely and tenderly imparted a contemporary and neatly contextualised moral debate if more finely structured. Instead, the starry-eyed eloquence in some sections of the narrative descended into a cheap thrill as Hatoum lost confidence and favoured a tacky and immature resolution to the novel. A disappointing end to a promising and intriguing novel.

On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan

Published in Incorporating Writing, Issue 5 Vol 2, April 2008

An intricately crafted tale of tension and morality; Ian McEwan's new work On Chesil Beach is a beautiful and eloquent achievement. This is a book to devour, re-read and ponder - densely packed with insight and accessible reflections of relationships and intimacy.

The novella follows the relationship between Edward and Florence. We first encounter the couple on their wedding night - the pivotal point of their relationship. The tension of this scene is born of the early 1960's, of each individual finding their place in both this changing society and their relationship. In their honeymoon suite, Edward and Florence negotiate consummating their marriage - a long awaited moment for Edward whilst a nightmarish scenario for his new bride.

The couple are deeply in love, yet the expectations of their first sexual encounter show the intricate interplay between sex and love, and the implications for the couple. As their relationship (and the readers' understanding of the pair) delves beyond their newly-wed ideal we discover their characters afresh and further understand the facades in action. What isn't said is far more important here than what is. These pretences and conformities, whilst most often of the little white lie variety, open up a gulf between the characters and become a separate entity in the relationship. McEwan unfolds each protagonist delicately, encouraging revisits to On Chesil Beach to unveil further motivations and meanings.
Flitting between crisp reporting and woozy nostalgia, McEwan creates empathy for both protagonists in his enticing use of tone and pace. The sense of tension is ruthless, ebbing in and out to its crescendo. The structure and pace of On Chesil Beach is fluid and musical, its echo found in Florence, an aspiring musician. As she becomes more self-assured, the pace quickens and even in her eventual absence she dominates the tone. Edward, in contrast, is an historian, thinking factually, and this is clear through his responsive, analytical narrative. The (almost fated) deep attraction between Edward and Florence is explored through his studies. The recurring activities and consequences of humanity and the inevitability of change are both universally and personally understood; rights of passage are socially and historically enforced. As Florence reflects, stood on the shore, the wedding night is 'a minor theme in a larger pattern', both for the characters and as a critique of human relationships in general. Perhaps stereotypical to gender, these aspects of each protagonist complement each other and succinctly develop each character. On Chesil Beach may not be so successful were it more lengthy. It is McEwan's commanding insight and the resulting intensity which give the novella its power.

Twin standards plague this relationship. Florence has been brought up straddling tradition and revolution (i.e. her father's driving lessons encouraging her independence) yet she is trapped by her refined loneliness. The English stiff upper lip and the expectations and implications of marriage cage the couple; Florence craves the freedom to explore their own interpretation of marriage. Both characters are deeply lonely, but they are lonely together. Unable to talk about her emotions even with Edward, her most intimate confidante, Florence's character explores the contrasts between sex, love and intimacy both as a reflection on past values and a critique of modern morality. As a reflection of Florence's blossoming individuality, Edward's mother thwarts explanation and preconceptions; dominating the narrative through her absence (like Florence by the end of the novel). The pretences, secrets and lies are symbolised within this character, an exaggeration (or matured glimpse) of Florence - despite the clear and nagging contrast between the two families. This is a fresh and almost comical Freudian reference (that men look for their mother when picking a wife). Edward's mother is a surprising addition by McEwan, she is a crisp and distinct breeze in an otherwise very stereotyped, intertwined and almost fragile narrative.

At worst, sex is used by authors as a gimmicky sales pitch. On Chesil Beach, however, uses it as realistically as possible - it is crude, loving, vital and minor in turns. Both in symbolic and representative ways, McEwan has achieved a narrative built around (but not exclusive to) sex: as an indicator of real humanity.

The Steep Approach to Garbadale - Iain Banks

Published in Incorporating Writing, Issue 5 Vol 3, July 2008

Unpicking the secretive history of a highly powered, wealthy games manufacturing company, this novel revolves around a crescendo for the family business - the opportunity to sell out to an American corporation. The Steep Approach to Garbadale tells of the game play in a struggle for power within the family. This wrangling is of the business, closely held family secrets, parental control and recognition of responsibility. The concurrence between the family relationship and the business permeates the novel, exploring the changes in the marketplace, echoing the move from family establishment to the new Corporation involvement. In reflection of this overriding theme, Alban's changing affections provide reinforcement for the plot. He relinquishes his adoration of Sophie (his childhood sweetheart) to accept his mature and real feelings for VG who sets Alban free, bringing freshness to the novel through her new perspectives and unconventional attitude.

Tactics and the generic principles behind well known games enable the reader to empathise with the characters. This breaks down the complex family relationships to an almost childish simplification, aiding our understanding by presenting a stereotypical surface, which paradoxically makes a greater depth evident.

The characters are often childlike, ageless in their playfulness and extreme stereotypes. A coming of age tale for Alban, the novel is narrated by and about this central character, creating an unbiased and refreshing roundness to the characters. This childishness is present in each character - Win (Alban's grandmother), for example is a formidable woman yet she approaches her family much more seriously than her business. Fielding is a contrast as he is overwhelmingly conscious of brand and commerce, treating family as a game and commodities as reality.

As Alban discovers, and abandons, his naivety the novel reaches its climax and the family begins to reveal its secrets. In the truth about his Mother and his shattered affair with Sophie, Alban uncovers a deeply interwoven and exceedingly dark family dynamic, bringing a greater appreciation and understanding of individuals as separate from the family unit.

The chance element of gaming is represented within the plot as love - beyond tactics and scheming, the complex romantic relationships within this family are unquantifiable and somewhat irrational. An antidote to the capitalist undertones, Banks' reminds us that money can't buy you happiness. As the entanglement of emotions within The Steep Approach to Garbadale unfolds, Alban is able to, albeit painfully, evolve and his coming of age is complete. He leaves his childhood just as the family must leave their business.

Iain Banks has a rare, humble talent. His writing is often uncomfortable (evident from his first novel, The Wasp Factory) yet evocatively effective; his use of Scottish colloquialisms and wry, dark humour triumphs time after time. Banks doesn't write to please in an obviously gratifying way - instead he creates subtle and sumptuous, accomplished literature.

Building upon this tradition, The Steep Approach to Garbadale blends ruthlessly humane storytelling with sometimes nauseating commercial references where the exaggerated level of superficial detail slows and desensitises the narrative. The pace is controlled by the contrast between this dense yet empty narrative, and Banks' dialogue - where humour and colloquialisms increase the pace. These aspects of the narrative make the characters and themes more identifiable; the largely alien theme of the established, super-rich family is further grounded by the parallel, anecdotal sub plots throughout.

Early on in the novel this is particularly disquieting. The pulp references to commercial awareness and capitalism are overbearing and insincere; yet as the plot fills out this trait becomes evidence of Banks' talent - emphasising his gentle negotiation of satire and social commentary. The tone is lighter than Bank's usual style, it is less involved and so emphasises attitudes to the business (in particular to Alban's desertion of the family firm). Its attempted sophistication appears brash in contrast to the more developed complex social themes. The hedonistic lifestyle of these highly achieving characters fragments the narrative, creating mystery with its frustrating gaps and sporadic detail.

Although not Banks' most immediately likeable novel, The Steep Approach to Garbadale is exceptionally well written; conscious of the ironies of contemporary culture with a control and density which make it a rich, rewarding read.

Rist, Reality and the Post-Modern Commotion

Myth draws on our nostalgia for pre-modernity, where the enchanted state (which post modernity seems to be leading us towards) appeared to have been the norm. Embracing a reality which is not mediated by science or rationalisation, myth creates an interpretation of reality which is traditionally closely linked to a particular community.

Bauman saw post modernity as a response to - and therefore successor to - modernity. Post modernity, he believed, functions as an attempt to fix the mistakes of modernity, as:
post modernity can be seen as restoring to the world what modernity, presumptuously, had taken away, as a re-enchantment of the world that modernity tried hard to disenchant’
(BAUMAN 1994 p.x)
Fairy tales, folk stories and myths form a method of re-enchantment; these types of teaching have long been used to help their audience learn cultural or spiritual values, for example, depicting extreme stereotypes, strengthening community and building metanarrative.

In this, myth is contrary to post modernism in that post modernism has been seen as the loss of metanarratives; myth, in contrast, is a step to reforming these. An example of this is the loss of religious prominence with the rationalisation of modernity. This belief structure is approached by contemporary myth as people search for something to have faith in; hence the interest in UFOlogy, spirituality and other alternative belief systems is rapidly growing. These ideas also help to develop communities – people are drawn together by their search for something to believe in. Post modernity in essence has therefore lost its reliance on this type of narrative. In contrast, the work of Pipilotti Rist could be seen as referring back to these ideas of myths in its appropriation of – capturing her audiences’ imagination with stories which lead your understanding of the artwork in a new direction, beyond the surface.

Gaston Bachelard (1994) wrote that ‘A fairy tale is a reasoning image’ (p.163) and this idea perhaps helps us to understand Rist’s work and its characterisation of the artist. Rist’s works read like fairy tales, for example the mix of stories and narratives, characters, plot lines and audience in the catalogue Show a Leg (RIST 2001). This work mixes information about the exhibition with tales about Pipilotti: the inquisitive child, recipes, scientific information, criticism and quotation to present the feel of Rist’s work in a stereotypical format for storybooks. Rist’s work questions if we can consider it as her true self or as a persona.

Bauman emphasised ideas about persona and self-reflection in post modernity. He linked this to ideas about community; where he believed the loss of belief in metanarratives (which characterises post modernity) and the change in community values, which have evolved to be based upon communities formed by virtual values and commonalities were based on ideas about the self, suggesting that Rist’s use of persona is a factor in her development of work about myth.

Rist took her name, Pipilotti, from mixing her Christian name Charlotte with that of the children’s’ heroine, Astrid Lindgren’s orphan ‘fanciful pirate princess’ (SPAIK 2002) Pippi Longstocking. This created both a new character for the artist and a new existence of a strong, independent female protagonist for her to explore through her work. Rist’s heroine develops the feminist strands within her work where her:
figures [always] stand as a symbol for the philosophical human being. For me the woman is the norm and the man is the exception. (HAUSER AND WIRTH LONDON 2005 p.2)
Feminism within the work could, however, be seen as almost incidentary, much like feminism’s place in post modernism can be debated – it is a concern important within post modernism (although perhaps not relevant to a debate about reality in this dissertation) and gender roles can be viewed as the discussion of a metanarrative.

Rist feels that:
Fifty years ago, the spoken word reigned, but during the last fifty years, the power has gone over to pictures. Everybody now is well educated visually, and yet there is still this Klassenkampf, this class fight between the word people and the picture people.
(HARRIS 2000 p.78)

The world is increasingly literate, for example encouraged by the rise of the internet, even though in contrast as the media becomes ever more powerful we are bombarded by more and more images. Rist’s work questions written and spoken language in comparison to a purely visual one as she uses many languages in her work. As a bilingual artist, perhaps this echoes how she uses different meanings from different languages to describe her work. However, to the viewer this may present a different interpretation. By using different languages in the work, some of the audience will be able to understand different parts of the writing. This means that each person, with their different levels of understanding will find different meanings in the text. By using these different languages (for example in her titles, or in the box work as well as in the installations themselves) Rist also confronts us with evidence of her post modernism – she establishes her cultural identity as multi-cultural, and is widely influenced by this while reflecting on societal groups and their new-found transcendence of geography.

Her use of music is emphasised in its use of language – the music is rooted in the country of its origin yet still emotive if the words are not understood – using, yet transcending its language. Rist’s work could be seen as echoing pop culture, where celebrities’ lives are publicised through the media – perhaps then in this documentation of her story, implicit to the character yet void of anything personal to her, Rist makes Pepperminta a star - someone to be adored and to be talked about. In this way, Rist’s work is rooted in contemporary culture, discussing celebrity and pop culture and the almost god-like status placed upon those in the public eye.

Freud believed that art is ‘fragments of a great confession’ (SPECTOR 1972 p.4) so perhaps it is wrong to say that Rist’s personas are separate, but that they must be read as a whole, and her work (like the segments of character suggested in the box work) should be read likewise. Alternatively, the recognisability of Rist’s assumed identity could be read as a form of branding; the name is original to the artist and correlates directly to her work. Rist’s name sells a type of experience within the gallery beyond that of her notoriety as an artist, but as her background, reputation and personal myth combined. Who, then, really makes this work? Smart (1999, p.11) stated that:
in contrast to a uniformity of life, articulated with a standardisation of production, it is diversity and difference that are increasingly cultivated within late modern capitalism and the culture of individualisation.
Increasingly, we seek produce that is handmade, fair-trade, organic or free-range. That which is more expensive to make but which adheres to a current ethical ideal (be this a trend in a typically market driven society or not) and is therefore contrary to Ritzers’ principles of McDonaldisation and is now desirable as the uniqueness and quality of products is increasingly prized. This approach emphasises what we now strive for in ourselves; individualisation. This aim is shown in current marketing techniques where trend cycles are short and products are highly customised. Is the artist therefore a carefully produced package used as a marketing tool, or an individualised practitioner?

To what extent, then, could Pipilotti - as a combination of Charlotte and the fictional Pippi - be considered a persona; or is the name merely an indication of Rist’s control over her own identity? Does this matter in our appreciation or interpretation of her work? In the article Faking It (2006) Pendle discussed truth in autobiography – and the implications of his criticisms of the literary use of persona and truth also stand true for the visual arts. Pendle questions how the audience – the viewer or the reader – responds to autobiography. This suggests that an audience expects a narrative that relates to the author (in this very direct way) to be wholly truthful, that:
we can appreciate stories only if they are ‘true’? Does it signify that we are losing the ability to suspend our disbelief, to make that essential leap of faith that all communion with art requires?
(PENDLE 2006 p.29)
Perhaps this also means that in our contemporary society, where we rely on science and the media to shape our definition of the truth, people are less able to interpret art individually and are more reliant on facts being obvious and meaning being clear. Although Rist’s work is more open to interpretation than a written autobiography, we still expect art to carry some trace of its maker in its intent, how it is made, or both. Bauman stated that post modernity ‘ignores your worry about setting apart fantasy from ‘what really happened’’ (BAUMAN 1994 p.vii), blurring any definition of ‘reality’ in these terms. Bauman stated that ‘In hyperreality, truth has not been destroyed. It has been made irrelevant.’ (BAUMAN 1994 p.151) – placing weight on the idea central to post modernity; that surface is more important than content. In this, it seems that Rist’s layers of persona should affect our understanding of her work only to remind us of her post-modern undertones; the fragmentation of character is irrelevant tof our understanding and should reflect only the artist’s choices and control over her work.

As Rist develops a character in her work, one that echoes herself, it may be argued that Pepperminta stands for Pipilotti and Pipilotti, likewise, represents Charlotte. The box work, Pepperminta, Homo Sapiens Sapiens, Boxa Ludens, (RIST 2005) is a collection of artefacts to expand the character of Pepperminta. Whereas the film work for this series depicts Rist’s heroine in her journey, this piece is more like a diary: a private selection of images that the viewer has to explore at their own pace, placing their own meanings to those items found within the box as they are in no set order with no given narrative. In this work, Rist perhaps spans the difference between a private and a public myth; what is hidden and personal and what is put on show.

Rist produces a work which is tactile and covetable, developing work within the fundamentally fictional, fleeting film environment which makes a clearer definition between reality and character. The actor’s interaction with the camera is an example of this, where viewers make assumptions about how to understand or trust the person through their gaze (BROOKER 1997 p.155), effective in developing the character of Pepperminta.

Rist’s work not only questions reality in her status as maker, but also debates reality in the regarding of our internal self; our individual moral code and public values:
Rist points out, much of what she was taught to think of as ‘timeless’ custom is recent invention. ‘We were brought up to think the alphenhorn had been around for a thousand years but it was invented less than 130 years ago’. Now the straight wooden horn used by Swiss herdsmen and often twice their height is an icon of local identity. ‘People lament that they are losing their identity but this shows you can construct new identities very quickly. All the fundamentalisms want us to believe they came straight from God’.
Rist is no more concerned to abolish identity than to reaffirm it. Instead, she says, ‘I like to question rules but also propose new ones.’
(SCHWABSKY 2004 p.79)
Rist is unafraid to break down her own personal myths and those of her audience, and then to rebuild them through her work. As she points out in the excerpt above, myth ‘reaffirm[s]’ our identity, and so it seems logical that it should be consistent to our culture and contemporary society. Myth seems to be being re-written to establish the importance of science and the media in our day-to-day lives, creating a mythology of information emphasised by our reliance on technology.

Rist’s work comments on consumerism within her use of video. Her work is rooted heavily in music and so takes elements from contemporary pop culture, most notably music videos, using music to lull and relax her viewer. MTV makes music a commodity as the videos are a neutralised advert for the band - the music and the video are divorced as ‘music videos put rock music into an imaginary world’ (SMART 1999 p.67). Rist designed music videos for bands in college. The aesthetic, lustre and pace of her work are closely linked to music; almost celebrating contemporary culture, showing how:
She is fascinated by the physical demands and consequences of such seductive imagery [in the media], unpicking how the media and media formats are able to affect our unconsciousness, dreams and desires
(INDEPTH ARTS NEWS 2005)

The media forms our current reality, selling us a dream of a lifestyle in a very potent manner. Television and film are widely available in the western world; where Kandinsky believed in his modern society that ‘at those times when the soul tends to be choked by materialistic lack of belief, art becomes purposeless’ (KANDINSKY 1955 p.74), post modernity repackages art to find belief in materialism. Giddens stated that ‘Life is being dissolved into TV’ (LYON 1995 p.48) and Rist’s work relates to TV in its MTV aesthetic, even though it is not presented as such. Her work does not suggest that it is a direct representation of life, one which we could become lost in, but rather is an alternative, a better, and more vibrant, more truthful hyperreal form of reality.

Rist’s audience represent the post modern idea of how we understand and respond to reality. As:
experiments in the 1960’s [which] taught us that for many underdeveloped viewers the evenings viewing was understood to be a continuum without distinctions between truth and fiction
(BROOKER 1997 p.155)
the contemporary audience is not faced with this differentiation. We are aware what is supposed to be a true representation and what is more interpretive, but fact and fiction are not as valid a discussion when viewing this work in post modern sense.

MTV is in itself a post modern use of video in the way in which it goes beyond boundaries – blurring such oppositions as masculine and feminine or high and low culture (BROOKER 1997 p.14). However, Wollen argues that music videos depict ‘the adolescence of postmodernism’ (BROOKER 1997 p.225) where these relationships between oppositions are changing. Perhaps this is their nature in that they are no longer factors in response to each other any more, but both stand alone and fuse together without comment. This has implications both for the future of MTV and for Rist’s work; both must develop their concerns and format in line with sociological developments, combining these different modes of reality.

It has been suggested that the demise of MTV is near, with the rise in popularity of internet sites like YouTube and MySpace which show music videos in a more interactive way; viewers can directly pick which videos they wish to watch instead of making requests and waiting for play lists, combined with features to personalise the site and network with friends. These sites, therefore, could be seen as a late post modernist version of MTV – viewing is extremely personalised and controlled by the individual.

It seems that Rist’s work is open to these changes in the experience of media; for example in ‘Löndön’ the audience were given a very reflexive environment in which to view the work, they were not simply stood in front of a projection but were given a space within it in which to discover the piece for themselves. The way in which music is commodified may change with the rise of these websites as the videos are posted and not controlled by a broadcasting body. Therefore, the success of bands has the opportunity to be more organic, encouraged by the electronic community, and less dictated to by marketing. This may change the type of imaging used in these videos as they become increasingly freed from commercial constraints, and it will be interesting to see if Rist’s work will change in its imagery also, and, as she has commented, the similarities between her work and MTV are merely coincidental and not direct references.

Rist’s work creates a new kind of myth within her chosen media, and in doing so exposes the ‘real’ in a different way.
Rist finds in the ‘lousy, nervous, inner world quality’ of video a kind of objective subjectivity capable of registering its own physical, psychological and structural conditions and constraints
(SCHWABSKY 2004 p.78-9)
revealing the flaws of the medium as part of its message to the viewer; the flaws aren’t edited out but are embraced within the artwork. This could be seen to parallel Freud in some ways (although not in such a direct reference to Freud as Kelley’s work), building meaning out of the implicit images within the flaws of her technology relating to Freud’s analysis of dreams.

Video differs from film in that video is often concerned with documentation, a record of reality (PHELAN 2002 p.36), for example home video and CCTV, whereas film is a more polished, fictional product. If perfection is therefore a fictional concept, then by using video Rist emphasises reality, she makes a statement that the flaws are real, and shouldn’t be ignored.

However, if we take the view that ‘Rist’s art proposes a more complex relation between her dense visual surfaces and truth’s elusive realities’ (PHELAN 2002 p.36) (which describes her work as a post modern reality comprised of layers of representation (PHELAN 2002 p. 34)) then we cannot really critique her work simply in terms of video; such criticism would not, ordinarily, cover such a dense representation. For example, ‘Baudelaire’s diatribe against the idea that the photograph is art because it’s divorced from the dream feels antiquated’ (HUSTVEDT 2005 p.99) is very true, both within current society, technology and more specifically the work which we are discussing. With technological advances comes greater control, and therefore the ability to fuse ideas about photography with this concept of ‘the dream’, but moreover, Rist’s work in essence discusses ‘the dream’ – in its production, subject and exhibition.

Is reality then defined by its inclusion of this idea of ‘the dream’, is this what Baudrillard means by hyperreality? Baudrillard, known as the ‘postmodern commotion’ for his provocative ideas, has said that through our current state of post modernity ‘it is now impossible to isolate the process of the real or to prove the real’ (BAUDRILLARD 1983 p.41). His ideas centre simulacra – where our existence is made up of reproductions with no original; layering up this artifice with hyperreality, where reality has evolved to combine with fantasy. Löndön creates a dreamlike environment, one which is effective because it takes the audience out of one type of reality and provides them with an alternative. Here, in the centre of the city, gallery goers were taken out of the busy streets and provided with a space to pause and relax, complete with comfortable couches. In contrast to the work which depicts Pepperminta entering civilisation, the viewers are taken from civilisation to consider the way in which they interact with their environment and are encouraged to slow down. This differs to other methods of exhibiting which often bombard the viewer with things to look at so that you are guided through a space with less time to think about the work. In this way the relationship between viewer and work is altered:
Aching legs and sore backs are often associated with a good hard slog around a museum or art gallery….the beds? “It’s partly an offering – here you can lay down and relax your muscles,” (HIGGINS 2005)
and therefore preconceptions about galleries are debated by Rist’s work – it provides the audience with a dream instead of a challenge; the experience is easy, informal and enjoyable in a different way to traditional viewing conventions.

The work took the viewer to another place with another set of rules, replacing one reality for another, albeit temporary, one. Rist’s work placed the viewer within the work with its use of mirrors and their emphasis on her swirling, engrossing images (see appendix 1). ‘In The Solar Anus George Bataille writes that “the two primary motions are rotation and sexual movement”’ (ORRGHEN 1998) and both of these themes are dominant in Rist’s work, perhaps the primal nature of this imagery is what is so encompassing. It is a constant for all of her audience, whatever their personal context and consequent reading of the work. Rist uses references to the space which she exhibits in, site specificity is important to her work where she reanimates spaces, showing alternative or past uses and creating a fake sense of space; re-enchanting these sites.

Flying Room was also set in a bank, but this work referred directly to the use of the building. This contrasts to Löndön where her references are more subtle by commenting on how the space when used as a bank is trying to sell and to ‘seduce clients’ (HIGGINS 2005), working more explicitly with the architecture of the gallery. The sister work to this piece, Homo sapiens sapiens (2005) was situated in a Venetian church, remarking on belief in our society by examining the link between the rise of consumerism and the death of religion. Rist’s work often questions ideas about religion in contemporary society, albeit in a distanced way, with her ‘desire to discover new rituals appropriate to our time’ (SAN FRANCISCO MUSEUM OF MODERN ART 2004) which is an idea that she references again in Löndön. Through its related works and placing of the viewer - to gaze at the ceiling in a way also seen in churches and cathedrals, where you are seen to be looking towards God - this piece discusses the belief we place in commerce:
Myths, fairytales, other-worldly promises of religion, humanistic fantasies, travel romances, have been continually changing expressions of that which was lacking in actual life
(MANNHEIM 1972 p.184)
to discuss the necessity of enchantment.

Bauman (1994) wrote that by emphasising individual moral responsibility, we lose community and the values that it enforces. Bataille (1994) explains this conclusion by the example of an increasingly godless society; that to generalise, the world is one without faith in the divine – that we can understand myths more when we no longer believe in them as they no longer have such an impact on our day-to-day lives. This work discusses a developing use of faith and belief structures, one which is placed in a material context.

Rist’s use of video and projection, however, contrasts to the ritual and belief elements within her work. She has said that ‘We can no longer look at technology innocently and see it as miraculous; it’s become too ordinary’ (PHELAN 2002 p.15) which seems to comment on video, a household technology used in her work. Perhaps this no longer refers to projection as it has lost its common use, so that Rist is free to experiment with this and surprise her audience:
For me, it’s very important that things look simple. But the simpler it looks, the more work it is, like figuring out how to hang the projectors (HARRIS 2001 p.73)
Projection is also a fitting medium for work exploring post modern themes; it seems unreal as the images are not solid – they consist of light.
At one time, to ‘project’ meant ‘to work an alchemical transmutation by casting the philosopher’s stone over base metal in the hope of turning an inferior amalgam into pure gold’ Stafford and Terpak link the optical devices of projection in the seventeenth century to a ‘dialectical process of joining earthly to unearthly experiences’
(ALEXANDER 2005 p.18)
emphasising the above point; that Rist’s work creates an unearthly, or fictional space within that which is directly experienced by the viewer.

Bataille suggests that by abolishing myth, we accept science, but also that as science studies subjects in isolation; we too can study the ‘sacred [which] can just as easily be studied on its own’ (BATAILLE 1994 p.113). Post modernism however, rejects science as the new myth. Rist creates collaborative works with scientists, along with business people and other artists for example. If science is rejected by post modernism as a new myth, or to some extent a new metanarrative, then in collaborating between the cultural spheres where does Rist place her work in relation to myth? Rist’s work often seeks to define a contemporary set of beliefs and so perhaps this relationship isn’t a partnership between the different collaborators and the artist, but a dialogue between the defined areas of interest. In her simplified use of technology she is able to inject a scientific approach with some elements of myth which brings a sense of wonder to the medium both for herself and her viewer, re-enchanting that which post modernism defies enchantment.

T.S Eliot wrote that:
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And for what is actual is only actual for one time
And only for one place
(ELIOT 1990 p.53)
This extract reflects directly on the nature of reality in projected art suggesting that the projected medium of Rist’s work subverts reality - the scene was real as it was being shot, and the projection space is real. However, by layering up these spaces we could presume that a myth is created - an unreal space where the viewer experiences two places and times in parallel. One of Rist’s threads in her work, with reference to her site specific work at Galerie Hauser and Wirth in Zurich, for example:
makes the stimulating potential of the idea of converting and reprogramming spaces the starting point of her intervention.
(SIGISMONDI 2001)
This work explores past and present uses of buildings, mixing nostalgia and memory with redevelopment.

The term reality in post modernity is not fixed. This means that to discuss individual artworks in post modern terms is a pertinent comment, as they, in a very direct way, reflect the society which has produced them and are in flux. Therefore the debate is reciprocally between the artwork and the theory.

To assume that Baudrillard is correct, and that a post modern idea of reality is one which relies on simulacrum (and re-enchants through this) is flawed as the idea of post modernity remains ambiguous and developing. Rist’s work embellishes these ideas through its breadth and complexity, suggesting that the evolving, reflexive nature of her work makes it a good indicator for post-modernity. However, her work is contrary to the assertion that we are losing metanarratives, as in this storytelling approach the artist attempts to provide an alternative to this loss.

Rist’s work references consumerism in a more direct way through her site of a converted bank, commenting upon sociological theory. Subverting popular culture, Rist’s work attempts to void the postmodern ideal of surfaces, blurring boundaries and differentiation to merge layers into a constant. Post modernity has created more freedom within art than those sociological periods before it: artists can now explore reality in a more open framework, where irrationality is another option in a language of personal imagery and medium is a reflection of context.


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