Last summer I had the opportunity to see Vincent Van Gogh: His Life in Art exhibit at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. I was beyond excited to gawk at, “more than 50 masterworks by one of the most iconic artists in the history of Western art” as the museum website put it, and indulged the assumption that I would share the experience with other novice art lovers like myself. The website warned that tickets were no longer being sold ahead online but onsite on a first-come-first-served basis due to the popularity of the exhibit. In my mind though, this high demand simply reinforced the weight of the opportunity I had at hand. I would get to see several of Van Gogh’s most famous works (without having to purchase a flight to Amsterdam), maybe take some time to sketch or take photographs and be in an environment of appreciation for the arts and humanities (something I had been desperately craving after interning on a construction site for a month and a half).Continue reading “Has technology killed art?”
After reading Aaron Hughes’ chapter on Comparison in Method Today for a graduate seminar, my cohort and I tried to sort out the criteria of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ comparisons in scholarship (and by good or bad we meant more or less useful for our specific purposes). While we disagreed with Hughes’ claim that fluency in a language is a necessity in formulating accurate comparisons, we supported his point on theoretical sophistication, which we understood to mean an acknowledgment of the ‘Z-factor’. This factor, introduced by J. Z. Smith, is described as a way of comparing two things by means of a third term or boundary (i.e. we can compare “x” to “y” only in terms of “z”). Part of what makes this useful to scholarship is the self-reflexivity that acknowledging your ‘z’ brings. This argument breaks apart the implied universalism of the term that seemingly connects the ‘x’ and ‘y’ being compared. For example, if we compare apples to avocados without acknowledging that we consider an avocado to be a fruit (our specific z-factor for this instance) we end up with an implied assumption that the apple and avocado are inherently fruits, without further explanation needed. This sort of logic — the kind that avoids signifying the terms we use — might seem unimportant in comparing fruit, but can have large implications when it comes to identity politics, for example.
This class discussion made me think of an episode of Derry Girls I watched this weekend. The Netflix original series follows a group of Irish teenagers during the Northern Ireland conflict (also known as The Troubles) and this particular episode attempts to reconcile the Z-factor between the two conflicting identity groups at war. The show focuses on the Derry Girls as they grow up in a Catholic all-girls school at a time when the Catholic/Protestant disagreement was charged religiously, but especially politically. In one of the episodes, the girls (and James, who’s considered one of the girls but is male) go to a “Friends Across the Barricade” camp, where they plan to build bridges—not literal bridges but metaphorical, as the main character explains to her mother before departure—with a group of young Protestant men from London.Continue reading “A very Derry comparison”