The Nonhuman Turn: Animality and Abstraction

I attended the plenary speech at The Nonhuman Turn Conference given by Brian Massumi entitled “Animality and Abstraction.”  In his speech, Massumi addressed issues of consciousness and instinctual reactions in the way animals interact with their given environment.  Massumi described instinct as determined at the moment of sexual selection and that their was evidence of inherent mechanisms of recognition in animals.  He spoke of an experiment done with Herring Gulls that was designed to judge the bird’s response to different visual representations of decoy gulls.  The experiment found that the Gulls responded more naturally and favorably to the decoys that were less than perfect representations of their own kind.  This indicated what he called “a natural disrespect for good from.”  This also shows that certain instinctual triggers are not bound to any reliable schema. 

            Massumi said that “environment provides selective restraint” which forces a selective pressure on an animal and improvise in their given environmental habitat.  Animals react to the different and various sensations provided by the world they occupy.  Some species cooperate in functional relationships that are instinctively beneficial to one another.  Species vary, and adapt differently to different environments in terms of how they create a spatial domain and function inside that space, playing a part in the larger ecosystem.  Animal instinct was likened to jazz in the ways that it plays on the environment and creates an “induced improvisation” that allows a being to freely and creatively control its own personal space.

Blog #8: Nature in Advertising on Television

Nature is visible on television in a variety of different forms. It appears on all sorts of programs with all sorts of meanings and intentions. Whole networks are devoted to documenting nature and they broadcast its beauty out to viewers who can enjoy its majesty from the safety and comfort of their own homes. But nature on television is just a construction. It has been scouted, filmed, and edited in such a way that it appears as only a representation of the actual natural world.

What is so strange to me is the way that nature, and its image are used to sell products. Nature is so prominently displayed in advertising that the only way to escape seeing its image would be to go outside, and even then you’d likely see a beautiful scene plastered across some billboard. Especially in TV commercials, nature has become a major selling point. Nature is invoked in advertisements for any and all products, usually with an emphasis on how the product lets you return to the natural world or somehow conquer it. Yet the products they advertise in these nature scenes will hardly ever be used in those scenarios, even if they are actually designed to be. Nature becomes artificial in these ads and represents a world that you will not ever see. Look at any commercial for any SUV on the market. Chances are you’ll find images of monstrous vehicles tearing through muddy forests, windswept deserts, or craggy mountainsides, all with the purpose of showing the viewer how tough and rugged these products are. They can withstand any and all conditions that you might be faced with and they can prove it too you. But, in all of these commercials you will see some very tiny text at the bottom of your screen that states quite clearly: “Professional driver on a closed course. Do not attempt.”

The natural world as depicted in the world of television commercials is anything but natural. It is constructed to sell a product. You can use your Iphone to help you navigate the Grand Canyon and your Ford Escape can take you there, and that’s what they’d like you to believe. However, it is far more likely that the Iphone will be used to surf the Internet while the SUV sits idly in a parking space for hours in between short treks around town. The nature we see in advertisements is the nature we would like to find if we were to venture out in to the world, we could see ourselves out there in it. In the same way we imagine we will go out and find that natural world with the help of our smartphones and SUVs. We wouldn’t be fit to find that world without these things, so we won’t try. Television commercials sell us a world we would like to live in, a beautiful, untamed wilderness that exists just beyond our sights, and that all we have to do is go find it with the help of some novel products. Only that world they show us doesn’t really exist, and they know that you won’t be using their products to find it. Because you weren’t ever really meant to.

A Zed and Two Noughts

There is a lot that could be said about Peter Greenaway’s film A Zed and Two Noughts (1985). The film is very complex and could be read in many ways. The scenes that I kept coming back to were the scenes in the theater, where one of the brothers was watching the David Attenborough documentaries. The inclusion of the documentary footage and the accompanying narration from Attenborough provide an interesting feel to the film. The footage from the popular documentary, and the character’s obsession with it, points to the human fascination with documenting natural phenomena and viewing the natural world for pleasure and entertainment.

The character takes comfort in watching the nature documentaries after the death of his wife, and he quickly becomes obsessed with viewing them. The character turns to these films in his grief, films that tell of the origin of life on our planet. The life/death theme is one of the many major binary oppositions visible in the film, and it is interesting that the film references nature films in this way. Nature documentaries are often intended to inform and educate as they entertain. They provide the viewer with an understanding of the natural world around them. By documenting nature and then putting it on display for ourselves we assert our dominance over the natural world. By gaining an understanding of nature, we demystify it and allow ourselves to feel like we have some semblance of control over the world we live in.

The documentary footage and narration in A Zed and Two Noughts lend the film a somewhat documentary-like tone. The film focuses on the unraveling lives of several people as they adapt to new circumstances in the wake of a tragic accident. These characters are bizarre, yet fascinating. We watch movies for entertainment, and they need to have amusing subjects for us to be intrigued enough to watch. A Zed and Two Noughts provides the interesting subjects and shows us a glimpse of their strange world. Nature documentaries attempt to do the same thing. Humans have always been fascinated by the incredible world that we live in, and we are always trying to capture its essence in our attempts to understand it. Film gives humans the ability to shape our own world according to our distinct views and purposes. Unfortunately, our views are often skewed and misdirected. It is important to remember there is more to the natural world than meets the eye, and that nature itself can be cruel and unpredictable. It is doubtful that man will ever truly understand the complexities of life in the world around us, but our fascination with nature continues.

An Incident in Animal Entertainment

I have only ever ridden a horse one time in my life. I remember it very well. On the occasion of my eight birthday my mother took me and a friend horseback riding. I lived in a small, rural town that was surrounded by farmland and forests, which made it not only a great place to raise horses but also to ride them. There were several local stables nearby and every one had ample land with plenty of trail to ride. Growing up I knew several people who had horses, and I had seen them regularly throughout my childhood, yet I had never had the opportunity to ride one.

I will always remember this day for a few strange reasons, not the least of which was the experience of riding the horse. Not only was it my birthday, but also the day that the new public library opened in my small hometown. I was in attendance at the grand opening party for the library because my mother was a member of the village board and had worked on the update of the public library. I did not want to be there, but I patiently waited and enjoyed the refreshments as I counted down the minutes until I would finally get to ride a horse. Waiting for my mom at the library function was taking its toll and I was starting to get upset, because I was an impatient (and probably spoiled) child and it was also my birthday. Right before we finally left the library my picture was taken by a photographer from the local paper, I thought nothing of it at the time it but it would prove significant in the long run.

After a lot of waiting, I was finally on my way to realizing my dream of riding a horse. We got to the stable, got a quick lesson, chose the horses that we wanted to ride and before too long we were off down the trail! I was not impressed. Though horses are beautiful, majestic creatures, they require a degree of skill in their control that any eight year old will undoubtedly lack. And while trail riding is certainly enjoyable, it is not what an eight year old who was raised watching television and movies has in mind when he envisions himself on a horse. That said, I was thoroughly disappointed by the whole experience. As it got dark we turned back toward the stable and our slow, boring ride was coming to a close. For the entire ride our horses had walked slowly, single-file down the trail and obediently followed our guide. That is until the very end. When we emerged from the forest trail and out into a large clearing as we approached the stable, my horse veered slightly away from the path of the other three horses. My horse and I were behind all of the others and my horse was not following any of my frightened commands. The horse was heading back to the stable, but he was headed right toward a tree whose limbs I would not be able to duck under. The horse would not stop and before I could react I was smacked with a thick tree branch. As the horse walked underneath the branch unscathed, I was bent backward as the branch scraped over my torso and then my face, eventually knocking me off of the horse. The horse continued on its way, and eventually I made my way back to the stable, bloodied and crying, with the help of my mom and our guide.

Riding a horse was a huge disappointment to my eight-year-old self, not only because it lacked the speed and excitement I had hoped for, but also because of the horse’s complete disregard for my presence. Not only had I been injured in my collision with the tree, but I had destroyed my favorite jacket, which also upset me. I tried to forget about the whole incident completely, which worked for a few days until I saw my picture from that same day on the cover of the newspaper next week. The photo taken of me at the library served as a reminder of that fateful day, and I have not forgotten it since.

I know now that the horse was not trying to harm me, it was just doing what it wanted to do. I was so angry at the horse at the time that that anger and resentment stuck with me. I have never ridden a horse since that first awful experience. I don’t blame the horse for what happened. It is a strange thing to use animals as a source of entertainment. We go into these situations with certain expectations, and when our expectations are not met, we get disappointed and angry. When we put animals to work solely for the purpose of entertainment, we have to ask ourselves what the cost might be for both humans and animals. The animal is forced to live an unnatural lifestyle with the expectations and demands of the human thrust upon it. When an animal reacts adversely to its unfortunate circumstance it is often the human that pays the price. It cannot be expected of a horse to be aware of a child’s safety. When humans pressure animals to perform, it should be expected that the animals might react to that pressure with dangerous consequences. I still remember that afternoon of my eighth birthday and the strange experience of all of it. I got over my resentment of horses around the time all my cuts and bruises had healed, and I knew that the horse hadn’t hurt me on purpose. However, I have never gotten back on the horse.

Week #5: Viewing Animals

Animals have been present in film since the earliest days of the technology. Humans have always been captivated by the wild worlds of the creatures they don’t understand. Film created a way for humans to experience the animal world in the safety and comfort of a movie theater, and eventually, in their own homes. However, it seems that filming animals as entertainment, often disguised as education, is putting both humans and animals in harm’s way.

As film technology advanced over the decades, and equipment became smaller and more versatile, filmmakers were able to shoot any subject anywhere they wanted. This opened up whole new worlds of possibility for filmmakers and the audiences they served. Portable equipment meant that the camera could go to the subject, instead of the other way around. Obviously, this allowed filmmakers to seek out animals in their natural habitat and gain new insights into their unique lives. The ability to observe animals in the wild offered audiences a new understanding of the animals that they so enjoy watching, but also created further problems for both humans and animals.

With the popularity of nature documentary films and television shows, there came an increased need to differentiate between products and exploit new methods of filmmaking. The move away from standard observational documentary signified a shift toward a much more dangerous trend. While audiences have always considered animals entertaining in their own right, human-animal interaction provides a sense of danger and immediacy to a film that animals alone cannot. There is an inherent danger in dealing with wild animals in any way, even trained and domesticated animals can act unpredictably in an unfamiliar setting. So, when people insert themselves into the lives of animals for the purpose of creating a film, the danger is not only still present, but also used as an incentive to watch.

This is extremely troubling. Human interference in animal lives for the purpose of entertainment is as misguided as it is dangerous. Anytime you see a film where people are interacting with wild animals there is always a warning to viewers to never attempt what they are seeing. The people in the films are always “experts” or “trained professionals” that are fully aware of the potential consequences of their actions. These interactions are antagonistic in their approach to filming animals and the human element that they add is unnatural. It is no wonder then that so many people who have attempted to interact with wild animals are often injured or even killed. Though the best intentions are often in place, the recklessness of many of these filmmakers is unbelievable. And though there is no doubt those filmmakers like Timothy Treadwell and Steve Irwin sought to educate their audiences about the animals that they loved, the message is ultimately a mixed one. The animal in the wild should be viewed with reverence and respect, and always from a distance. Man’s intrusion into the world of the wild, even when made with the best of intentions, can prove to have the harshest of consequences. In this way, human lives are needlessly lost, while animals are vilified for doing what, to them, is only natural.

A Few Words On Grizzly Man

Werner Herzog’s 2005 documentary, Grizzly Man, raises a lot of important questions about man’s relationship with nature. The film’s subject, Timothy Treadwell, headed into the Alaskan wilderness in search of a new life among the bears. Treadwell saw the world of the bears as a simpler, and more genuine way of life than his own. In many ways he was right. The life of a bear is much simpler than the life of a human, but it is often more violent, unforgiving, and hostile, especially toward outsiders. Treadwell devoted much of his life to living with the bears, and he found his eventual death among them as well.

Treadwell embraced the chaos and danger of the wilderness in his quest to protect bears and their natural habitat, but he was a troubled and misguided man. He immersed himself in the world of the bears, claiming to be their protector, but really only endangering himself. Treadwell was invading a foreign territory, inserting himself into a role that he deemed important and necessary. The bears are indifferent to the intentions of any intruder, and cannot identify with anything other than their own primal urges. Treadwell struggled with addiction and used his work with the bears as a motivation to become sober. However, he became dependent on the thrill of the wilderness lifestyle and was obsessed with the work and he threw himself completely into this pursuit. His obsessive need to view himself as a protector and savior of the bears bordered on megalomania. Treadwell projected his own desires onto the animals he loved so much. He saw the bears as needing him, not realizing that it was he who needed them.

Timothy Treadwell saw a clear distinction between the human world and the animal world, and he placed himself at the crux of the two. He saw humans as an enemy to the animals that he loved, and claimed that he was their sole guardian. What Treadwell couldn’t see was that his presence among the bears was as unnatural as anything could be. Animals deserve respect, especially in their natural habitat. Animals should be allowed to live uninhibited by any human action, and while Treadwell himself seemed to believe this, he still justified his actions in interfering with their lives. There seems to be no doubt that Timothy Treadwell did a lot to further awareness for bear protection and educated many people about nature and conservation. He was driven, ambitious, and daring. However, Treadwell confused his own needs with the needs of the animals he cared so much about. Treadwell turned away from society to escape a world he did not want to be a part of. In turning to nature, he mistook his own selfish desires for the needs of the creatures he could never truly understand.

On: Angels and Insects

What I found most interesting about Angels and Insects (Philip Haas, 1995) was the patriarch of the Alabaster family and the role he played in the film. The father is responsible for the bringing William Adamson into the house after the shipwreck and subsequent loss of all of his research. Sir Alabaster financed all of Adamson’s work and provides him with new opportunities upon Adamson’s return to England. Alabaster even allows William, who is of a working class background, to marry his daughter and enter into the wealthy family and a new life of privilege.

Sir Alabaster is so interesting because he sees such value in science and encourages William’s research at a time when scientific methods were a source of heated controversy among a devoutly religious society. Alabaster himself is a very religious man, and he expresses the conflict he feels between his religion and the science of evolution. However, Alabaster knows that scientific advancement is valuable to society for what knowledge it provides about our living Earth, rather than speculating about angels and demons battling over good and evil somewhere off in the ether. Sir Alabaster’s own inner conflict mirrors the conflict William experiences living life on the Alabaster estate.

William feels he owes a debt to Sir Alabaster for the many opportunities that he has provided, and he knows that he is an outsider among the wealthy Alabaster clan. William tutors the children and conducts research around the estate while he helps Sir Alabaster organize his own materials. But Alabaster’s own children seem to have little interest in the sciences and are only concerned with the pleasures provided by a life of privilege. William cannot relate to the lives of the wealthy aristocrats and is abhorred by the secrets he finds out about the family. William feels trapped in a life he doesn’t understand, much in the same way that Alabaster feels caught between his religion and science. There is no way that either could truly reconcile the two sides to find a middle ground.

Week 2: On Anthropomorphism

Anthropomorphizing is an interesting thing that we humans do. We project decidedly human attributes onto animals for many reasons, not the least of which is entertainment. Animals have been anthropomorphized in art and entertainment for centuries, and the practice seems to be as popular now as it has ever been. For some examples we can look to three distinctly different works which all anthropomorphize animals in some way, with differing effects.

Jean Painleve’s short film The Love Life of The Octopus (1965) is interesting in its treatment of its subject because of the mostly scientific approach taken by the filmmaker. The film focuses on the daily life of an octopus and how an octopus lives in relation to its surroundings. It gets interesting, however, when it starts to explain the mating process. This is where much of the anthropomorphizing begins. To say that any animal, outside of humans, might mate for the purpose of love would be delusional. Romantic love is something that only humans could truly be capable of understanding. The octopus, though an intelligent creature, has no need for love; instead it carries an inherent desire to reproduce with an acceptable partner for the purpose of continuing the species.

Disney’s The Lion King (1994) takes on a completely different approach, and one much more concerned with anthropomorphism for entertainment. The Lion King presents a world of animals that not only speak and feel, but are also motivated by power, love, and friendship. The Lion King is about a young lion’s attempt to win back the throne to which he is the rightful heir. Though power and social standing certainly play a pivotal role in the workings of packs of wild animals, in reality the consequences of such are much more simple and brutal than they are presented in this film. The Lion king politicizes the natural power struggle of animals in nature and presents a world of ambition, betrayal, and power among these animals that is so diabolical and corrupt that in reality it could only be true of humans.

Christopher Guest’s Best In Show (2000) is the example in which anthropomorphism is best exemplified, but not because it forces the audience to project human traits onto animals, but rather for the way in which it shows how often humans do ascribe such human traits on to the animals in their lives. The dog owners and handlers in the film are so hopelessly self-obsessed that they can’t help but project their own neuroses onto their pets. The film makes it easy to see that the animals are just playing their parts in a world dictated by the obsessions of their human masters. The dogs are not concerned with victory; they do not care about their appearance or any award. They are dogs. It is the humans that project these qualities on to the animals, and this movie lets us all see how ridiculous we look when we do such things.

Week 1: Cute vs. Anti-Cute

In the book “Cute, Quaint, Hungry, and Romantic: The Aesthetics of Consumerism” Daniel Harris writes:

“Something becomes cute not necessarily because of a quality it has but because of a quality it lacks, a certain neediness and inability to stand alone, as if it were an indignant starveling, lonely and rejected because of a hideousness we find more touching than unsightly.”

We ascribe cuteness on to objects that we deem defenseless and in need of our affection and support. We gain a sense of pleasure from pitying those things that we view as deserving of our sympathy. Stuffed animals are designed to be soft and plush, with rounded immobile limbs perfect for squeezing and holding. Yet the true-life counterparts to these stuffed animals are anything but. Wild animals surely do not need humans to care for and caress them.

Anthropomorphism is another way we project “cuteness” on to animals by envisioning them with distinctly human characteristics. Countless cartoon animals have entertained children and adults alike for decades; mice, rabbits, pigs, birds, jungle cats, etc. have all been anthropomorphized in cartoons to create cutely comical situations for our enjoyment. However, as Harris notes: “cuteness is an aesthetic under siege”. More and more frequently in today’s media the “anti-cute” is gaining popularity. Cartoon animals are no longer just the sweetly naïve do-gooders of yesteryear. Today we see cartoon animals drinking, smoking, and swearing, they have problems that more people can relate to and are more and more taking on the harsh light of humanity. The anthropomorphism is present in both the “cute” and “anti-cute” alike, but this new breed resembles humans more and depends on them less. If we see cuteness in anthropomorphized animals as a need for protection and care then the new aesthetics of “anti-cute” are roundly rejecting the idea of neediness and asserting an unconcerned coexistence and shared grief with their human counterparts.