The mood of this week generally took on the theme of comparing two pieces from two different ages of art. We took a look at The Lamentation by Giotto and compared it with the piece The Lamentation of the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna. Both pieces depicted the same situation- the dead Christ as he is mourned over by his followers and disciples. What really amazed me is how differently two artists from two separate ages can take the same subject matter and make two very different interpretations of it. Simply to start, Giotto used the medium of fresco, while Mantegna used the medium of canvas and paint. In Giotto’s work, there is essentially no sense of spacing or depth, evidenced by the lack of any background or middleground. The entire piece is simply foreground. Mantegna, unlike Giotto, created a great sense of depth because of the angle in which we see Jesus- as if we were at his bedside with the other mourners. Although ultimately Jesus’s proportions were too inconsistent, it still contrasts sharply to Giotto’s lack of depth. As far as color goes, Mantegna’s work is severely lacking, which is probably the point. All of the color present in the piece is severely dulled down, emphasizing the gloomy atmosphere. Giotto uses a wide array of bright colors, and even uses them to draw contrasts between groups in the painting; the angels are painted in shades of red and gold, while the mourners are dressed in varied colors. That isn’t to say that the two works don’t have any similarities between them. Both works have an asymmetrical balance to them, where it creates a sense of balance but not in the sense of being split down the middle and having two identical pieces. Both works use line of sight of the people to draw the viewer’s eye to the focal point of the piece- in both cases, Jesus.
Also, even though this piece comes after the deadline, I'd just like to comment- when we were sketching our rough versions of The Last Supper, I realized that I was sketching in the reverse order of what a majority of professional artists do. I first drew the foreground, which was the supper table. Then I focused on sketching the rough outlines of Jesus and his disciples. Finally, I drew the background architecture, trying my best to keep the continuity of the lines of the windows and walls consistent with each other.
Weekly Response #2
This week was primarily focused on the differences and similarities between Augustine’s Confessions and Boethius’s The Consolation of Philosophy, although we did briefly cover some material from the Qur’an. Augustine’s Confessions, especially “Adolescence” encapsulate his deep regret concerning the troubled past he had, and the sin that he had committed. His letters are written to God, but he does not capitalize when he refers to God directly. Then again, the Romans never distinguished between uppercase and lowercase, which would probably explain that. In his letters, he details that his sins, most notably the sin of stealing pears, were fueled not by his desire to possess, but by his desire to sin for its own sake. He felt dirty, disgusting for committing these heinous crimes, even though in the worldview his act was nothing but a petty felony. Even when he perceives himself to be guilty in his mind, in reality he is mostly innocent. Finally, when he refers to his conversion and transformation to the Christian faith, he refers to it in the past tense, meaning the transformation has already occurred.
Boethius, in a much different manner, writes his letters to the Lady of Philosophy, who, instead of remaining silent like God in Augustine’s Confessions, Lady Philosophy actually answers Boethius’s questions and arguments. Boethius rationalizes his actions and, with Lady Philosophy’s guidance, determines in his own mind that he is innocent, even though he is convicted of numerous crimes in reality. Through this conversation he is able to come to terms with his fate. When he refers to his realization, he does so in the present tense, suggesting that his conversion is ongoing, probably culminating in his death.
Both of these pieces are essentially journals; each writers jots down his own problems in his own unique way, and then uses the writing to alleviate the suffering that they are experiencing.
Weekly Response #4 (there was no response last week, so I'm skipping to 4)
This week’s discussion, Dante’s Inferno, really has me interested and invested in the response. While The Conference of the Birds and Consolation of Philosophy were, to be honest, a bit drab and boring, Dante’s Divine Comedy is a fabulous work of literature that brings life to a concept that no one wishes to think about: what Hell is like. We begin in the dark forest, where the events there will foreshadow the journey that is about to begin. Dante encounters the leopard, the lion, and the she-wolf, representing the three divisions of Hell: incontinence, violence, and fraud. One thing that came up in class was why fraud was considered a worse sin than violence. The reason why is because fraud is exclusively a human sin; violence can be committed by any lower beast of the wilds. I’m fairly certain one bear cannot trick another out of all its money. Also, the sins are judged in degree by how much they anger God.
This is why Lucifer is found at the very base of Hell, in the Ninth Circle, which is reserved for the Treacherous. Also, the fact that the three greatest traitors in history are being devoured by Lucifer—Judas, Brutus, and Pontius Pilate—further evidence this claim. If the Church wanted to exemplify the punishment of traitors to Christianity, why wouldn’t it be Cain, Judas, and Pontius Pilate? Perhaps it was because Cain was before Jesus’ time, and the other three were after? Perhaps it’s because besides the Bible, there are no historical accounts of Cain ever existing.
One more thing about this piece bothers me; how can this concept of Hell be so different when compared to the modern concept of Hell? Nowadays, the Christian Church describes Hell as a cold, dark place where no hope dwells. The wicked aren’t punished in the literal sense, but they suffer nonetheless. Hell is literally the only place in the universe without God, so those who find themselves within are always cold, always alone, always empty.
Weekly Response #5
Well, we’re finally finishing up our studies on Dante’s Inferno. I must say, this is my favorite text to study so far, and I’m a bit disappointed that we’re finished with it already. But, all things must eventually end, right? So, without further ado, my response:
This week sums up the Ninth and final circle of Hell, the circle reserved for the treacherous and the traitors. Here, in stark contrast to the rest of Hell, the Ninth Circle is a cold, frozen wasteland. The punished here are frozen to the ground. Their heads are aimed skyward, and their tears freeze upon their face. Many in class today discussed why the Ninth circle is so different than the others. It was the consensus that it was because the Ninth circle is the farthest from God, the very center of the Earth. That is also why Lucifer is frozen at the base of the Ninth Circle: he is the ultimate traitor, the one being who has offended God the most. The majority of his body is submerged in ice, with only his torso and head uncovered. He has three heads, three pairs of wings, and tortures three traitors: Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius (it was not Pontius Pilate as I had believed, my bad). This focus on three can be seen a ton throughout the Divine Comedy. Think about it: three books- Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradise; Hell is divided into three sections- incontinence, violence, and fraud; each of these sections is divided into three rings, making for nine circles in total. I think it has something to do with the Trinity: perhaps the Trinity is the basis for all of reality, since it was the three aspects of God that created the entire universe and the laws that govern it.
Benjamin, I think it was, asked in class how it was that Lucifer was trapped in hell and was still able to move about freely in other Biblical stories, like when he tempts Jesus in the desert. I’ve been thinking about this, and it was reinforced by a videogame interpretation of Dante’s Inferno, of all resources. Though the story of the game has been tailored to give Dante added incentive to fight through Hell, they depicted Lucifer quite well. Throughout his adventures in the Inferno, Dante is tormented constantly by a man composed of pure shadow. This shade cannot directly affect any aspect of the Inferno, but his voice carries enough influence to change things to his will. Though Lucifer is the false king of Hell, he is its ruler nonetheless. Therefore, in a perversion of one of the powers of God, he is omnipresent in all of Hell; able to see and witness all.
Weekly Response #6
This whole week’s discussion was actually quite interesting. Although I was skeptical of the Canterbury Tales, it seems that Chaucer has pleasantly surprised me.
The first part of the reading was the tale of the knight, and how he married the old crone, only to discover that it was a young, beautiful maiden all along. Instantly I was reminded of the film Robin Hood: Men In Tights, where the nefarious Sheriff of Rottingham married the hideous Latrine in order to save his life. Only, Latrine didn’t turn into a beautiful maiden. So, sucks to be him.
Secondly, when it came to the three “estates” of the medieval people, it really made me think of the three main sections of people today: the rich, the middle-class, and the poor. Also, Chaucer didn’t hesitate at all to make fun of the clergymen, even though, in that time, speaking ill of the Church could irritate men in high places enough to take action. In particular I found the Summoner to be hilarious: pockmarked face; bullshits his job; babbles in Latin when drunk; loans out his concubine to paying customers; and seduces young women.
Finally, when it comes to the Wife of Bath, my feelings were sort of a mixed bag. Yes, I do believe that men and women have the right to marry multiple times. However, the reasons she had for marrying her husbands—all for their money—had me deeply disturbed and angered. It reminds me of when Britney Spears got married “just for fun.” And when she remarked that she was going to marry her final husband for love, I couldn’t help but laugh derisively. You expect me to believe that a woman who’s married multiple times, all for money, is suddenly going to change her ways and marry for love? Come on. Get real.
Weekly Response #7
Well, this week certainly was interesting. This week, we explored the possibility of a brave new world, the never before touched subject of Utopia. Except the origin of that entire word is a pun. So our entire concept of it is a pun?
Anyway, this week’s special reading centered on Thomas More’s Utopia, a wonderful glimpse into how the perfect government would operate. Except it’s not as perfect as we think. Turns out, there’s still crime in the perfect government. Okay… Actually, I kid. I completely understood why there was the explanation of what happened to criminals. If More didn’t include it, much of the credibility of the work would have been lost. Plus, humanity can’t be expected to construct the perfect government because humanity is inherently flawed. There had to have been countermeasures to deal with the dark side of the human condition.
The utopia that More presents is a great government: no idleness, no shortage of goods (which means no starvation), a 6-hour work day (my God, what I wouldn’t give for that), no overpopulation, work rotation, and no unemployment. Some of the practices of Utopia would have to be taken with a grain of salt, as viewed from our current social mores. For instance, if there are too many people in one household, the youngest is sent away to live in another house, or sent to a colony that has recently been established. These rules of society are an obvious breach of the family structure, demonstrating how far we would have to go to achieve Utopia. And the concept of criminals as slaves I find to be ingenious. American does nothing with its criminals except lock them away where they can lounge about and do absolutely nothing. In Utopia, they work their asses off at the jobs considered too disgusting or hazardous for regular citizens. More seems to answer all the questions of his time, and I wonder how he might have answered the questions as pertaining to the mentally insane, military guidelines, etc.
Weekly Response #8 (Oct. 11, 2013) Chris, this sounds great. I'm looking forward to finding out what trends and musical sins should be punished. Will the musicians in hell try to justify their themselves? -MH
Already, only halfway through this semester, I feel we’ve covered many texts that I can truly appreciate: Utopia, The Prince (one I’ve already read), and Dante’s Inferno. Still, I feel that the second half of the semester will be a better time to write a comparison essay in the traditional format. So, this means my first paper will be a contemporary parallel in the nontraditional format.
So, I’ve been thinking about this a while. I know the piece I’ll be examining in my paper will be Dante’s Inferno. Not only is it my favorite piece so far in the year, it is a great piece to use to examine todays’ music culture. Religion was the dominant presence back in the Medieval Period, and in today’s culture, music is so deeply ingrained into our society that we don’t even realize it! Music pervades our movies, TV shows, even commercials. How many times have you found that you can easily remember the jingle to a commercial?
Now, how can I take this and apply the Inferno to it? Well, I’ve noticed that the music industry has recently taken to using bad practices, especially noticeable in the pop and rap genres. I plan to turn the Inferno into a music hell, with each concentric ring representing a genre of music that perverts the true meaning of music. I know that I won’t be able to cover all of the rings, but I will reveal what each ring is. As for the character of Dante, I’m not sure who will embody him or Vergil, but I know for sure that they will be recognized as upstanding artists who always stayed true to their form and never sold out. Freddie Mercury as Dante and Elvis Presley as Vergil, perhaps?
Weekly Response #9 (Oct. 25, 2013)
I figured that, since we never talked about Aguierre last week, on account of the papers being due, I would talk about it shortly before discussing the readings for this week.
So, the way I see it, Aguierre, had he not been completely and utterly insane, would have been justified in breaking off from Pizarro and the Spanish Crown. If the Founding Fathers hadn’t broken off from the English Crown, the country of the USA would still be a colony of the UK. Aguierre might have placed more importance in his men, since he can’t conquer an entire people by himself. He would have kept the horse, of course, so that he kept the most effective means of terrifying the natives. However, since he was insane, well… we all saw how that ended up.
When it comes to the readings of this week, I have some various thoughts and feelings behind them. When it comes to the conquering of the native Aztecs by Hernan Cortes, I honestly don’t have any opinion towards it; Cortes came across an unfamiliar people, and he reacted by subjugating them. I don’t think any of us would have done any differently if we lived back in that time period. I know it sounds harsh, but xenophobia was very commonplace back then, so it’s only natural that slavery and conquest of other peoples were looked on with either indifference or approval. As for the piece on the Aztecs, whether they were savages or not; I had no idea someone would attempt to do this, at least not in that time period. To want to theorize on how Plato and Socrates would view the Aztecs, the thought almost seems unprecedented. It was really interesting to read how they compared the Spanish and the Aztecs: is it worse to kill and eat a fellow man or subjugate and force your religion upon another man? Sorry, but I really think the latter is worse.
Weekly Response #10 (Nov. 1, 2013)
It’s very interesting to look at a piece of poetry or theatre, and criticize it for being so cliché and predictable and oftentimes flat. Then you look at it in class about a year later, and then you actually find out that the author did all those things ON PURPOSE, as a way of being cheekily clever and simultaneously pulling a fast one on people who are about as intellectually deep as a soup spoon. This is the feeling I experienced while we talked about Tartuffe.
I studied this play for about two weeks in my Theatre History course, and never did I think that Moliere made the characters so one-dimensional and archetypal for a reason. My professor might have touched upon it, but I never remembered it (partially because I was asleep in his class a lot). And on our tests, we were only quizzed over what actually transpired in the play, never really touching upon anything deeper.
Anyway, Wednesday’s debate on the worse villain in the play, Tartuffe vs. Orgon, was deeply interesting. One the one hand, you have Team Tartuffe (how hilariously alliterative), who argue that his treacherous lechery, hypocritical piety, and maniacal manipulation makes him the more nefarious rapscallion. Then, you have Team Orgon, who believe that his cruel, reasonless indifference and pure spite for his family drives him to blindly accept Tartuffe as a true heir to the estate. Had Orgon not been such an idiot, I might have actually considered the possibility that he knew all along that Tartuffe was a despicable cad, and still allowed him to take the estate, simply because he hates his family so much. I know, that back on Wednesday, I took the side of Tartuffe as the worse villain, but, now that I think about it more, I begin to doubt myself. If Orgon had not been the hateful patriarch that he had been, would Tartuffe been able to get away with all that he did before his ruse was dispelled? Was Tartuffe only able to do so much because Orgon enabled him to? Had Orgon been a kind, loving man towards his family, would he even had taken so to Tartuffe as he had?
Weekly Response #11 (Nov. 8, 2013)
This week’s reading of Candide I found to be very odd. Not only for its particular brand of ironic comedy, but also because two of the passages spoke to me on the personal level.
The first was when Candide was speaking to Martin, and Martin proclaimed himself to be a Manichean. I had heard that term before, and I marginally knew what belief in that line of faith entailed, but never before had I encountered writing where a Manichean (whether real or fictional) actually talked about what they believed. And what Martin said really struck me, because, ever since I came to college, I’ve carried those same beliefs with me: that if there is a God, then he doesn’t care about humanity, that everyone is over-obsessed with hatred of other people, and that the bad of the world equals the good. I literally had a conversation with a friend about and hour ago, and we talked about how individual people can be good, but as a whole, humans are terrible, awful people. Evolution done fucked up, we said.
Then, there was the conversation with the wise old sage. Candide never ceased to question him through Cacambo, and the old man’s words made me think of utopia, both the book and the idea. It is a bold statement, to say that we as mankind have nothing to ask of God, that he has given us all that we need. Personally, I stopped praying to God because he never listened. But the idea that everyone had the same belief, and didn’t seek to kill each other because they don’t have the same exact ways of expressing that belief… that idea is almost too unreal to imagine. Granted, it would be a fantastic life: no fundamentalist Christians, no Westboro Baptist Church, no cramming religion down other peoples’ throats… so many things would be right with the world if this one reality were true.
Weekly Response #12 (Nov. 15, 2013)
This week’s coverage of The Enlightenment was certainly an interesting one. What with all of the backlash from Jean-Jacques Rousseau about it, I had expected to come into the argument today reading about how we as a whole should just live in caves and blindly worship God for the remainder of our existence. Oddly enough, there was that, and weirder still, I actually saw a point to Rousseau’s argument. Mr. Hartman touched upon the concept of the “noble savage,” living close to the land and leading simple but enriching lives. I found the example of the Native Americans most helpful, because, frankly, they had that shit on lockdown.
When we started to talk about what the Enlightenment valued vs. what Rousseau valued, however, I started to see stuff I didn’t agree with. For starters, when Mr. Hartman wrote down that the Enlightenment valued civilization, science, art, and education, then started to talk about Rousseau’s opposing values, I found myself laughing a bit. “What does he value, barbarism, ignorance, and blind faith?” I sarcastically commented to myself, to which Mr. Hartman actually wrote down the gist of that comment as Rousseau’s values. I was floored. How could someone live like that, with their head buried so deep into the ground they run the risk of digging to China?
Finally, in terms of my paper proposal, I’m stuck with writing my comparison essay in the traditional format. I should’ve saved the non-traditional format for this one, since I’m a bit less thrilled about this one. Anyway, I plan on doing my comparison essay on Tartuffe vs. Candide. Oddly enough, both of these comedies tackle similar topics, but in delightfully different ways. I will be using these two pieces to examine the themes of hypocrisy and religion. I will examine what each piece says about the two themes, and how they convey these messages through the text.
Chris, these two texts will make a good comparison. They do take on similar topics, but their scope is so vastly different. Tartuffe focuses on one family. Candide wanders all over the world. Do you think that the two works have a similar point of view? -MH
Weekly Response #13 (Dec. 6, 2013)
Well, the final response has come. I find it nice and refreshing that we ended the semester with a few music studies. Although this is, for the most part, a class about examining literary texts, it was nice to know that we could glean some meaning and cultural significance from something as widespread as music.
Music truly is as powerful as literature, and perhaps more so as the ages progress, as each successive age sees more and more music flicker into existence. It was said that music is a good marker of what can be mentioned in public and how progressive we can be. I think that statement is completely accurate. For example, as I type this response, I’m listening to Eminem’s “We Made You,” in which he raps about how all these famous women are in love with him, among other related things. Eminem’s lyrics are very explicit. For example:
“Give me my Ventolin inhaler and two Xenadrine
And I’ll invite Sarah Palin out to dinner then
Nail her, baby say hello to my little friend”
I could give a thousand other examples, but I’d rather not. People would be in rioting in the streets about these lyrics less than 20 years ago, let alone in the Classical era.
Moving on, I’m glad that we covered the structure of classical music. Because of this, I’m able to supplement my belief that a select group of progressive metal artists are making songs and albums that use a similar structure to the classical formula. At first glance, their songs seem chaotic and unstructured, but applied to this formula they fit pretty well. I know that metal isn’t as widely received as pop and rap are, but I think this niche position within the music industry has forced metal bands to become more inventive and be able to take more creative risks, hence the closer resemblance to symphony-esque music. If you want to hear this sort of music in action, I would suggest listening to the album Parallax II: Future Sequence by Between the Buried and me. I know, there’s a lot of growling and tearing riffs, but I assure you, it’s a fabulous album. I’ve provided the link down below.
The mood of this week generally took on the theme of comparing two pieces from two different ages of art. We took a look at The Lamentation by Giotto and compared it with the piece The Lamentation of the Dead Christ by Andrea Mantegna. Both pieces depicted the same situation- the dead Christ as he is mourned over by his followers and disciples. What really amazed me is how differently two artists from two separate ages can take the same subject matter and make two very different interpretations of it. Simply to start, Giotto used the medium of fresco, while Mantegna used the medium of canvas and paint. In Giotto’s work, there is essentially no sense of spacing or depth, evidenced by the lack of any background or middleground. The entire piece is simply foreground. Mantegna, unlike Giotto, created a great sense of depth because of the angle in which we see Jesus- as if we were at his bedside with the other mourners. Although ultimately Jesus’s proportions were too inconsistent, it still contrasts sharply to Giotto’s lack of depth. As far as color goes, Mantegna’s work is severely lacking, which is probably the point. All of the color present in the piece is severely dulled down, emphasizing the gloomy atmosphere. Giotto uses a wide array of bright colors, and even uses them to draw contrasts between groups in the painting; the angels are painted in shades of red and gold, while the mourners are dressed in varied colors. That isn’t to say that the two works don’t have any similarities between them. Both works have an asymmetrical balance to them, where it creates a sense of balance but not in the sense of being split down the middle and having two identical pieces. Both works use line of sight of the people to draw the viewer’s eye to the focal point of the piece- in both cases, Jesus.
Also, even though this piece comes after the deadline, I'd just like to comment- when we were sketching our rough versions of The Last Supper, I realized that I was sketching in the reverse order of what a majority of professional artists do. I first drew the foreground, which was the supper table. Then I focused on sketching the rough outlines of Jesus and his disciples. Finally, I drew the background architecture, trying my best to keep the continuity of the lines of the windows and walls consistent with each other.
Weekly Response #2
This week was primarily focused on the differences and similarities between Augustine’s Confessions and Boethius’s The Consolation of Philosophy, although we did briefly cover some material from the Qur’an. Augustine’s Confessions, especially “Adolescence” encapsulate his deep regret concerning the troubled past he had, and the sin that he had committed. His letters are written to God, but he does not capitalize when he refers to God directly. Then again, the Romans never distinguished between uppercase and lowercase, which would probably explain that. In his letters, he details that his sins, most notably the sin of stealing pears, were fueled not by his desire to possess, but by his desire to sin for its own sake. He felt dirty, disgusting for committing these heinous crimes, even though in the worldview his act was nothing but a petty felony. Even when he perceives himself to be guilty in his mind, in reality he is mostly innocent. Finally, when he refers to his conversion and transformation to the Christian faith, he refers to it in the past tense, meaning the transformation has already occurred.
Boethius, in a much different manner, writes his letters to the Lady of Philosophy, who, instead of remaining silent like God in Augustine’s Confessions, Lady Philosophy actually answers Boethius’s questions and arguments. Boethius rationalizes his actions and, with Lady Philosophy’s guidance, determines in his own mind that he is innocent, even though he is convicted of numerous crimes in reality. Through this conversation he is able to come to terms with his fate. When he refers to his realization, he does so in the present tense, suggesting that his conversion is ongoing, probably culminating in his death.
Both of these pieces are essentially journals; each writers jots down his own problems in his own unique way, and then uses the writing to alleviate the suffering that they are experiencing.
Weekly Response #4 (there was no response last week, so I'm skipping to 4)
This week’s discussion, Dante’s Inferno, really has me interested and invested in the response. While The Conference of the Birds and Consolation of Philosophy were, to be honest, a bit drab and boring, Dante’s Divine Comedy is a fabulous work of literature that brings life to a concept that no one wishes to think about: what Hell is like. We begin in the dark forest, where the events there will foreshadow the journey that is about to begin. Dante encounters the leopard, the lion, and the she-wolf, representing the three divisions of Hell: incontinence, violence, and fraud. One thing that came up in class was why fraud was considered a worse sin than violence. The reason why is because fraud is exclusively a human sin; violence can be committed by any lower beast of the wilds. I’m fairly certain one bear cannot trick another out of all its money. Also, the sins are judged in degree by how much they anger God.
This is why Lucifer is found at the very base of Hell, in the Ninth Circle, which is reserved for the Treacherous. Also, the fact that the three greatest traitors in history are being devoured by Lucifer—Judas, Brutus, and Pontius Pilate—further evidence this claim. If the Church wanted to exemplify the punishment of traitors to Christianity, why wouldn’t it be Cain, Judas, and Pontius Pilate? Perhaps it was because Cain was before Jesus’ time, and the other three were after? Perhaps it’s because besides the Bible, there are no historical accounts of Cain ever existing.
One more thing about this piece bothers me; how can this concept of Hell be so different when compared to the modern concept of Hell? Nowadays, the Christian Church describes Hell as a cold, dark place where no hope dwells. The wicked aren’t punished in the literal sense, but they suffer nonetheless. Hell is literally the only place in the universe without God, so those who find themselves within are always cold, always alone, always empty.
Weekly Response #5
Well, we’re finally finishing up our studies on Dante’s Inferno. I must say, this is my favorite text to study so far, and I’m a bit disappointed that we’re finished with it already. But, all things must eventually end, right? So, without further ado, my response:
This week sums up the Ninth and final circle of Hell, the circle reserved for the treacherous and the traitors. Here, in stark contrast to the rest of Hell, the Ninth Circle is a cold, frozen wasteland. The punished here are frozen to the ground. Their heads are aimed skyward, and their tears freeze upon their face. Many in class today discussed why the Ninth circle is so different than the others. It was the consensus that it was because the Ninth circle is the farthest from God, the very center of the Earth. That is also why Lucifer is frozen at the base of the Ninth Circle: he is the ultimate traitor, the one being who has offended God the most. The majority of his body is submerged in ice, with only his torso and head uncovered. He has three heads, three pairs of wings, and tortures three traitors: Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius (it was not Pontius Pilate as I had believed, my bad). This focus on three can be seen a ton throughout the Divine Comedy. Think about it: three books- Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradise; Hell is divided into three sections- incontinence, violence, and fraud; each of these sections is divided into three rings, making for nine circles in total. I think it has something to do with the Trinity: perhaps the Trinity is the basis for all of reality, since it was the three aspects of God that created the entire universe and the laws that govern it.
Benjamin, I think it was, asked in class how it was that Lucifer was trapped in hell and was still able to move about freely in other Biblical stories, like when he tempts Jesus in the desert. I’ve been thinking about this, and it was reinforced by a videogame interpretation of Dante’s Inferno, of all resources. Though the story of the game has been tailored to give Dante added incentive to fight through Hell, they depicted Lucifer quite well. Throughout his adventures in the Inferno, Dante is tormented constantly by a man composed of pure shadow. This shade cannot directly affect any aspect of the Inferno, but his voice carries enough influence to change things to his will. Though Lucifer is the false king of Hell, he is its ruler nonetheless. Therefore, in a perversion of one of the powers of God, he is omnipresent in all of Hell; able to see and witness all.
Weekly Response #6
This whole week’s discussion was actually quite interesting. Although I was skeptical of the Canterbury Tales, it seems that Chaucer has pleasantly surprised me.
The first part of the reading was the tale of the knight, and how he married the old crone, only to discover that it was a young, beautiful maiden all along. Instantly I was reminded of the film Robin Hood: Men In Tights, where the nefarious Sheriff of Rottingham married the hideous Latrine in order to save his life. Only, Latrine didn’t turn into a beautiful maiden. So, sucks to be him.
Secondly, when it came to the three “estates” of the medieval people, it really made me think of the three main sections of people today: the rich, the middle-class, and the poor. Also, Chaucer didn’t hesitate at all to make fun of the clergymen, even though, in that time, speaking ill of the Church could irritate men in high places enough to take action. In particular I found the Summoner to be hilarious: pockmarked face; bullshits his job; babbles in Latin when drunk; loans out his concubine to paying customers; and seduces young women.
Finally, when it comes to the Wife of Bath, my feelings were sort of a mixed bag. Yes, I do believe that men and women have the right to marry multiple times. However, the reasons she had for marrying her husbands—all for their money—had me deeply disturbed and angered. It reminds me of when Britney Spears got married “just for fun.” And when she remarked that she was going to marry her final husband for love, I couldn’t help but laugh derisively. You expect me to believe that a woman who’s married multiple times, all for money, is suddenly going to change her ways and marry for love? Come on. Get real.
Weekly Response #7
Well, this week certainly was interesting. This week, we explored the possibility of a brave new world, the never before touched subject of Utopia. Except the origin of that entire word is a pun. So our entire concept of it is a pun?
Anyway, this week’s special reading centered on Thomas More’s Utopia, a wonderful glimpse into how the perfect government would operate. Except it’s not as perfect as we think. Turns out, there’s still crime in the perfect government. Okay… Actually, I kid. I completely understood why there was the explanation of what happened to criminals. If More didn’t include it, much of the credibility of the work would have been lost. Plus, humanity can’t be expected to construct the perfect government because humanity is inherently flawed. There had to have been countermeasures to deal with the dark side of the human condition.
The utopia that More presents is a great government: no idleness, no shortage of goods (which means no starvation), a 6-hour work day (my God, what I wouldn’t give for that), no overpopulation, work rotation, and no unemployment. Some of the practices of Utopia would have to be taken with a grain of salt, as viewed from our current social mores. For instance, if there are too many people in one household, the youngest is sent away to live in another house, or sent to a colony that has recently been established. These rules of society are an obvious breach of the family structure, demonstrating how far we would have to go to achieve Utopia. And the concept of criminals as slaves I find to be ingenious. American does nothing with its criminals except lock them away where they can lounge about and do absolutely nothing. In Utopia, they work their asses off at the jobs considered too disgusting or hazardous for regular citizens. More seems to answer all the questions of his time, and I wonder how he might have answered the questions as pertaining to the mentally insane, military guidelines, etc.
Weekly Response #8 (Oct. 11, 2013)
Chris, this sounds great. I'm looking forward to finding out what trends and musical sins should be punished. Will the musicians in hell try to justify their themselves? -MH
Already, only halfway through this semester, I feel we’ve covered many texts that I can truly appreciate: Utopia, The Prince (one I’ve already read), and Dante’s Inferno. Still, I feel that the second half of the semester will be a better time to write a comparison essay in the traditional format. So, this means my first paper will be a contemporary parallel in the nontraditional format.
So, I’ve been thinking about this a while. I know the piece I’ll be examining in my paper will be Dante’s Inferno. Not only is it my favorite piece so far in the year, it is a great piece to use to examine todays’ music culture. Religion was the dominant presence back in the Medieval Period, and in today’s culture, music is so deeply ingrained into our society that we don’t even realize it! Music pervades our movies, TV shows, even commercials. How many times have you found that you can easily remember the jingle to a commercial?
Now, how can I take this and apply the Inferno to it? Well, I’ve noticed that the music industry has recently taken to using bad practices, especially noticeable in the pop and rap genres. I plan to turn the Inferno into a music hell, with each concentric ring representing a genre of music that perverts the true meaning of music. I know that I won’t be able to cover all of the rings, but I will reveal what each ring is. As for the character of Dante, I’m not sure who will embody him or Vergil, but I know for sure that they will be recognized as upstanding artists who always stayed true to their form and never sold out. Freddie Mercury as Dante and Elvis Presley as Vergil, perhaps?
Weekly Response #9 (Oct. 25, 2013)
I figured that, since we never talked about Aguierre last week, on account of the papers being due, I would talk about it shortly before discussing the readings for this week.
So, the way I see it, Aguierre, had he not been completely and utterly insane, would have been justified in breaking off from Pizarro and the Spanish Crown. If the Founding Fathers hadn’t broken off from the English Crown, the country of the USA would still be a colony of the UK. Aguierre might have placed more importance in his men, since he can’t conquer an entire people by himself. He would have kept the horse, of course, so that he kept the most effective means of terrifying the natives. However, since he was insane, well… we all saw how that ended up.
When it comes to the readings of this week, I have some various thoughts and feelings behind them. When it comes to the conquering of the native Aztecs by Hernan Cortes, I honestly don’t have any opinion towards it; Cortes came across an unfamiliar people, and he reacted by subjugating them. I don’t think any of us would have done any differently if we lived back in that time period. I know it sounds harsh, but xenophobia was very commonplace back then, so it’s only natural that slavery and conquest of other peoples were looked on with either indifference or approval. As for the piece on the Aztecs, whether they were savages or not; I had no idea someone would attempt to do this, at least not in that time period. To want to theorize on how Plato and Socrates would view the Aztecs, the thought almost seems unprecedented. It was really interesting to read how they compared the Spanish and the Aztecs: is it worse to kill and eat a fellow man or subjugate and force your religion upon another man? Sorry, but I really think the latter is worse.
Weekly Response #10 (Nov. 1, 2013)
It’s very interesting to look at a piece of poetry or theatre, and criticize it for being so cliché and predictable and oftentimes flat. Then you look at it in class about a year later, and then you actually find out that the author did all those things ON PURPOSE, as a way of being cheekily clever and simultaneously pulling a fast one on people who are about as intellectually deep as a soup spoon. This is the feeling I experienced while we talked about Tartuffe.
I studied this play for about two weeks in my Theatre History course, and never did I think that Moliere made the characters so one-dimensional and archetypal for a reason. My professor might have touched upon it, but I never remembered it (partially because I was asleep in his class a lot). And on our tests, we were only quizzed over what actually transpired in the play, never really touching upon anything deeper.
Anyway, Wednesday’s debate on the worse villain in the play, Tartuffe vs. Orgon, was deeply interesting. One the one hand, you have Team Tartuffe (how hilariously alliterative), who argue that his treacherous lechery, hypocritical piety, and maniacal manipulation makes him the more nefarious rapscallion. Then, you have Team Orgon, who believe that his cruel, reasonless indifference and pure spite for his family drives him to blindly accept Tartuffe as a true heir to the estate. Had Orgon not been such an idiot, I might have actually considered the possibility that he knew all along that Tartuffe was a despicable cad, and still allowed him to take the estate, simply because he hates his family so much. I know, that back on Wednesday, I took the side of Tartuffe as the worse villain, but, now that I think about it more, I begin to doubt myself. If Orgon had not been the hateful patriarch that he had been, would Tartuffe been able to get away with all that he did before his ruse was dispelled? Was Tartuffe only able to do so much because Orgon enabled him to? Had Orgon been a kind, loving man towards his family, would he even had taken so to Tartuffe as he had?
Weekly Response #11 (Nov. 8, 2013)
This week’s reading of Candide I found to be very odd. Not only for its particular brand of ironic comedy, but also because two of the passages spoke to me on the personal level.
The first was when Candide was speaking to Martin, and Martin proclaimed himself to be a Manichean. I had heard that term before, and I marginally knew what belief in that line of faith entailed, but never before had I encountered writing where a Manichean (whether real or fictional) actually talked about what they believed. And what Martin said really struck me, because, ever since I came to college, I’ve carried those same beliefs with me: that if there is a God, then he doesn’t care about humanity, that everyone is over-obsessed with hatred of other people, and that the bad of the world equals the good. I literally had a conversation with a friend about and hour ago, and we talked about how individual people can be good, but as a whole, humans are terrible, awful people. Evolution done fucked up, we said.
Then, there was the conversation with the wise old sage. Candide never ceased to question him through Cacambo, and the old man’s words made me think of utopia, both the book and the idea. It is a bold statement, to say that we as mankind have nothing to ask of God, that he has given us all that we need. Personally, I stopped praying to God because he never listened. But the idea that everyone had the same belief, and didn’t seek to kill each other because they don’t have the same exact ways of expressing that belief… that idea is almost too unreal to imagine. Granted, it would be a fantastic life: no fundamentalist Christians, no Westboro Baptist Church, no cramming religion down other peoples’ throats… so many things would be right with the world if this one reality were true.
Weekly Response #12 (Nov. 15, 2013)
This week’s coverage of The Enlightenment was certainly an interesting one. What with all of the backlash from Jean-Jacques Rousseau about it, I had expected to come into the argument today reading about how we as a whole should just live in caves and blindly worship God for the remainder of our existence. Oddly enough, there was that, and weirder still, I actually saw a point to Rousseau’s argument. Mr. Hartman touched upon the concept of the “noble savage,” living close to the land and leading simple but enriching lives. I found the example of the Native Americans most helpful, because, frankly, they had that shit on lockdown.
When we started to talk about what the Enlightenment valued vs. what Rousseau valued, however, I started to see stuff I didn’t agree with. For starters, when Mr. Hartman wrote down that the Enlightenment valued civilization, science, art, and education, then started to talk about Rousseau’s opposing values, I found myself laughing a bit. “What does he value, barbarism, ignorance, and blind faith?” I sarcastically commented to myself, to which Mr. Hartman actually wrote down the gist of that comment as Rousseau’s values. I was floored. How could someone live like that, with their head buried so deep into the ground they run the risk of digging to China?
Finally, in terms of my paper proposal, I’m stuck with writing my comparison essay in the traditional format. I should’ve saved the non-traditional format for this one, since I’m a bit less thrilled about this one. Anyway, I plan on doing my comparison essay on Tartuffe vs. Candide. Oddly enough, both of these comedies tackle similar topics, but in delightfully different ways. I will be using these two pieces to examine the themes of hypocrisy and religion. I will examine what each piece says about the two themes, and how they convey these messages through the text.
Chris, these two texts will make a good comparison. They do take on similar topics, but their scope is so vastly different. Tartuffe focuses on one family. Candide wanders all over the world. Do you think that the two works have a similar point of view? -MH
Weekly Response #13 (Dec. 6, 2013)
Well, the final response has come. I find it nice and refreshing that we ended the semester with a few music studies. Although this is, for the most part, a class about examining literary texts, it was nice to know that we could glean some meaning and cultural significance from something as widespread as music.
Music truly is as powerful as literature, and perhaps more so as the ages progress, as each successive age sees more and more music flicker into existence. It was said that music is a good marker of what can be mentioned in public and how progressive we can be. I think that statement is completely accurate. For example, as I type this response, I’m listening to Eminem’s “We Made You,” in which he raps about how all these famous women are in love with him, among other related things. Eminem’s lyrics are very explicit. For example:
“Give me my Ventolin inhaler and two Xenadrine
And I’ll invite Sarah Palin out to dinner then
Nail her, baby say hello to my little friend”
I could give a thousand other examples, but I’d rather not. People would be in rioting in the streets about these lyrics less than 20 years ago, let alone in the Classical era.
Moving on, I’m glad that we covered the structure of classical music. Because of this, I’m able to supplement my belief that a select group of progressive metal artists are making songs and albums that use a similar structure to the classical formula. At first glance, their songs seem chaotic and unstructured, but applied to this formula they fit pretty well. I know that metal isn’t as widely received as pop and rap are, but I think this niche position within the music industry has forced metal bands to become more inventive and be able to take more creative risks, hence the closer resemblance to symphony-esque music. If you want to hear this sort of music in action, I would suggest listening to the album Parallax II: Future Sequence by Between the Buried and me. I know, there’s a lot of growling and tearing riffs, but I assure you, it’s a fabulous album. I’ve provided the link down below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4te4Yrskag
This has been an awesome semester. Hope to see you all again next semester.
P.S. If you want to see an interesting interpretation of Mozart, take a look at this video here.