Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

Maybe feminists should have waited until the 80s to make their video art. 

I am General Electric Answering System. I was born in Malaysia, but am of mixed heritage. My innards are sourced from over five additional locations. My purpose in life is quite straightforward-I record and repeat the messages of those individuals whom try to access my owners by telephone when my owners do not pick up. I have two mouths- one which eats and one which speaks. I eat electricity, which is sourced from an electrical outlet and enters my body through my imput, after which it runs through a series of digestive tubes, offering energy to all parts of my body. My other mouth's only function is to repeat what has been recorded on my memory card, or brain. My stomach is a fuse, where my nourishment is directed and stored. My other source of energy is through my  5.5 volt battery, or heart. It is always working, even when I am not taking additional energy in through one of my mouths. My vascular system, originating in this heart of mine, is embedded in my mother board, whose structure, like a skeleton, holds its structure and protects it. My nervous system, on the other hand, is housed in my Toshiba  processor, and accessed through the buttons on my epidermis. I have a removable instruction panel which tells humans how to interact with me. I liken this to my performative identity- clothing and mannerisms. They are removable and changeable, but affect the way in which I am perceived and treated by the external world. 

When I was in middle school, I recieved my first bag. My mother called it a purse. Women wear purses. It was my purse, and it made me feel like a woman. Made of black canvas and several inches smaller than seventh grade insecurity, it contained: my wallet, small friendship tokens (the "best" of "best friends," a thumb-sized bear figurine wearing a dress, with fur that might have once been described as "fuzzy"), bonne belle chapsticks in flavors like "root beer" and "candy apple," and later on, a house key. My nature has never been nomadic in the traditional sense of the word; having an intimate sense of place is extraordinarily comforting to me. However (or therefore), I, to this day, feel incomplete without a backpack or canvas bag slung over one or both of my shoulders. Paired with the fact that I am chronically chilled and rarely remove my jacket (let alone my mittens), I always look as if I am either about to leave or have recently arrived. I suppose that this isn't altogether untrue. My backpack currently contains: a wallet, a change purse, a spare pair of mittens, a twister tie, a planner, two kinds of hand lotions, at least twenty hair ties, a hilighter pencil, a hilighting marker, several led pencils, three pens, two erasers, a tin of mints, a journal, a spoon, keys, a cell phone, a glasses case, the backing of a "self-adhesive name badge" (Hello, my name is ______ ), a bag of makeup, a hair brush, a paper bag containing a piece of bread cut in to four square sections arranged in a stout stack, a thermos containing vegetable soup, a second thermos filled with hot water, another spoon, a scarf, a pair of black gloves, and too many chapsticks. A special pouch is reserved for this collection, which currently includes: Un-Petroleum Cherry SPF15, Lip Lover Grape Juice, Chapstick Naturals Shea Butter, Chapstick Flava-Craze Fruit Craze, Chapstick Moisturizer Original, Chapstick Moisturizer Vanilla-Mint, Weleda Everon, Burt's Bees "World's Best With a Hint of Luminescent Color" in Rhubarb, and Badger Cocoa Butter.

I find the crank especially interesting. Attached, somehow, to this unit of woman (including a wheel, faceless hair, timepiece-holding fingers, lightbulb where a head should be, BMW logos scattered to form a background), it seems like the mechanism that might animate this vehicle-like cyborg. I wonder whose hand cranks it? Is it too generalizing to assume that it is the collective force of society, of civilization, that turns the crank? It seems too easy and far too common to pass anything and everything off as being the "work of humanity." Who IS this humanity we speak of? I don't know if we, as "society," would ever advocate anything at all if there weren't some sort of an authoritative nudge in the "right" direction. But then, who is the authority?

Galton's Composites/Mary Douglas

I hope to create a group based on mutual support, encouragement, and criticism. We should expect one another to remain actively engaged in personal and group endeavors, without creating hierarchical relationships. I intend on creating a series of photographs pertaining to the concept of identity as performance. I will most likely pair these images with creative writing of some sort.I would love to pair up with those with photo experience, as I am a beginner with ambitions that are far larger than my skill set. Bookbinding/letterpress skills are also a plus, as I have recently explored the idea of publishing my project in some sort of a collaborative "book." I enjoy practical applications of theoretical knowledge, arts & crafts, and alliteration.

Here are the several lines that my brain allowed me to create. Things got cut off as soon as I got in to the swing of it...

I clearly didn't understand the prompt, but here's what came up:

The words to accurately express the complex sociological and philosophical studies of Michel Foucault do not exist within either the English language or his native French. He, therefore, has adopted pre-existing words and applied his own unique meaning to them in order to communicate the full range of his doctrine.  One of these, perhaps most notably referred to in his book, The History Of Sexuality, An Introduction, is the slippery concept of discourse.

The majority of society defines the word discourse differently than do, ideally, Foucault and his students. His arguably problematic tendencies to reclaim facets of language for his own use forces his readers to first translate his utterances before deconstructing them. The broadness of his theory requires such a prerequisite to understanding. To begin with the commonly accepted definition of discourse before identifying its relationship with Foucault’s version of the word is useful as a reference point for understanding his jargon.

The Oxford English Dictionary has two listings for the word, as both a noun and a verb. This division is significant, in that it implies that discourse may be both had, and produced or created.  As a noun, discourse is described as “A spoken or written treatment of a subject, in which it is handled or discussed at length; a dissertation, treatise, homily, sermon, or the like.”  As a verb, discourse is both “To pass from premises to conclusions; to reason,” and, in closer accordance with its definition as a noun, “To hold discourse, to speak with another or others, talk, converse; to discuss a matter, confer.”

Notes from Friday's observation.