Barbie and La Nouvelle Vague (part 2)
I remember my first Barbie. I received her as a Christmas present from my Aunt Diane.Â My aunt gave me other dolls (Strawberry Shortcake and Cabbage Patch Kids) over the years, but none consumed my imagination like Barbie. And even after she lost a legâ€”Iâ€™d flushed her down the toilet in an effort to gain attentionâ€”I still played with her. Â I played with her alone. I played with her alongside the kids from down the street (the â€œbad onesâ€ my parents worried would improperly influence me). We played Malibu Barbie, Wedding Barbie, and Travel Barbie.Â In an instant we were teleported with the accessories she wore.
Wedding Barbie and Ken, 1959 Reproduction (Photo taken from Jonathan’s Blog)
I can appreciate Dr. Cunninghamâ€™s concerns that Barbie is overtly sexual. I can even ignore my motherâ€™s eye-roll as I tell her about the importance of Barbieâ€”she only became a symbol as my social consciousness was formed.Â To my-1986-self Barbie was static and the epitome of femaleness. As I use words like â€œstaticâ€ and â€œfemaleness,â€ Iâ€™m keenly aware that this is my-2013-self dissecting the feelings of childhood. Barbie was my girlhood friend. Â In fact, she was reminiscent of â€œYvonne,â€ played by MichÃ¨le MÃ©ritz in â€œLe Beau Sergeâ€ (â€œHandsome Sergeâ€). She, like Barbie, could bend and loseâ€”endure hardship and remain hopeful. In the end, Yvonne birthed a viable baby. In the end Barbie is the ultimate feminist and symbol of womanhood.Â And, â€œsome feminists actually believe she is the symbol of female emancipation because she works and does not have to depend on men for her wealth and possessions,â€ Kristin Riddick argues (â€œBarbie: The Image of Us Allâ€). Despite her amorphous state, my experiences with Barbie are quite tangible.
I became a writer while playing with Barbie. Â It occurred during the fall, well as much of fall that ever visits Pasadena, California. So, this means it was September, and the new school year had just begun, I was six or seven.Â While taking â€œOcean Barbieâ€ and â€œBaby Keikoâ€ the whale out of the box, I read the description about their origin and it became clear that the story lacked pertinent details. Barbieâ€™s text needed more variation and a valuable reworking of characteristics. I realized that the name â€œOcean Barbieâ€ was without history. That meant, in the moment, I could continuously edit her title and rewrite her story. Â I could make her story mine by writing about identity.Â What makes Barbie different from me? I wondered.Â And, I thought, what makes us similar? I already understood that people were fragmented, that they were driven by thoughts and feelings. Barbie did not possess this ability. But I knew that she had an identity. Â She is Kenâ€™s girlfriend, Midgeâ€™s friend, Skipperâ€™s sister. As I jotted these details down, I considered their significance. I knew that where you come from has a major part in shaping who you later become. Â I wrote an elaborate tale about Barbieâ€™s birth and childhood. Â Did you know that Barbie was adopted? The words boomed, sometimes creaking, as they filled my coloring book. This process continued for some time.
Play time with Barbie created a space for the infinite possibilities that language enables. This is, albeit a different medium, how the principles of La Nouvelle Vague operate. Within this movement there seems to be an intense need to circle-back, to recreate, and to satirize all with the intention to provide a variety of end results. It is the distance that is traveled while watching these films that should be observed. They provide a wealth of possibilities. For instance, in â€œÃ€ bout de souffleâ€ I am amused by the collage of scenes that jump back and forth like a child playing jump rope. The mismatched shots pull from a variety of American cultural references. I recount the jazz notes and sounds, Andy Warholâ€™s Campbellâ€™s soup cans, Humphrey Bogart, and countless other references. As I played with Barbie, I adapted. I coordinated a sense of wonder and culture, and this established my freedom to create.
Imagination is essential to my connection with Barbie. Amanda Kingsbury, author of â€œSocial Structure of the Playground,â€ observed children as they chose and played with the toys. She writes, â€œThere is usually a continuous story being told about what Barbieâ€™s doing, where sheâ€™s going, and what sheâ€™s thinking.â€ What would Barbie think of the identity Iâ€™ve given her? I wonder. Would she care that I defend her. Would she want to be defended? And, as I write in my journal, I wonder: Would Barbie prefer the narrative instead of the poems?
Jamie Kazay teachesÂ in the English DepartmentÂ at Columbia College. A California native, she holds a BA in English from California State University, Northridge and an MFAÂ in Creative Writing, Poetry from Columbia College. She co-curates the Revolving Door Reading Series and is currently reading of a lot of Camus, Derrida, and Dorothy Allison. Her collection,Â Small Hollering, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2011.
The sound switches. Loud intensity and vibration. My body is permeated by the sound and radio waves. While watching the dancer move, I realize that all the cells of my own body are moving, oscillating, with the sound waves.
The dancer runs across the stage, throws herself towards the floor, glides. My body feels the impact of the floor on skin, skidding, sliding, perhaps squeaking.
Darkness and light, spotlights on my sight horizon. The moving horizon line, the white board, shifts my bodily perspective and orientation.
Jennifer Monson premiered her latest evening-length performance Live Dancing Archive at The Kitchen in New Yorkâ€™s Chelsea neighborhood for a two-week run February 14th – 23rd, 2013. The project Live Dancing Archive comprises three components, which consist of three different archival practices: dance, video, and digital archive. The â€œProgram Notesâ€ for the performance states that â€œEach of these captures how bodies hold, transmit, and convey experiences and understandings of ecological systems as they relate to human movement through the specificities of their medium.â€ Â Monsonâ€™s work explores the ability of movement itself as an archival practice; she is interested in the particular capability movement has to archive, record, and store the ecological systems that we experience.
For the two-week run, the video component of the archive was a a video installation which was on view during the day before the evening performances in The Kitchenâ€™s Theater. This part of the work, made by Robin Vachal, a videographer, video installation producer, editor, and teacher, consisted of editing approximately 50 hours of footage Vachal captured during the BIRD BRAIN Osprey Migration from 2002, an â€œ8-week research project in which dancers followed the migration of ospreys along the Atlantic Flyway from Maine to Venezuela.â€ Â Watching the video, the audience experiences the dancersâ€™ improvisation solos, conversations with park rangers at nature centers and preserves, public performances, and public workshops Monson and iLAND held with park patrons.
Another component of Live Dancing Archive is the digital archive which was designed and implemented by Youngjae Josephine Bae, who completed her MA in Library and Information Science, in collaboration with Monson and Vachal. The digital archive consists of video footage, photographs, dancersâ€™ journals, project notes, plans and schedules for performances and workshops, and other ephemera generated from the BIRD BRIAN Osprey Migration. The aim of the digital archive is to â€œmake available to the public as much of this material as possible.â€ Â The program notes encourage the audience to â€œperuse the archive in your own time as a supplemental experience to your participation in the audience tonight.â€ Â The performance need not â€œendâ€ once the audience member leaves the theater; she can continue to experience the work through the material which was archived in the movement of the performance.
Jennifer Monson, Live Dancing Archive (Photo by Ian Douglas)
Live Dancing Archiveâ€™s live performance aspect involves the audience as well.Â The audienceâ€™s participation in the live performance is that of the ocean. Monson describes her process of choreographing the movement in the program notes as:
â€œA significant amount of the dance material was learned from video documentation of four improvised solos on the beach at Ocracoke Island, NC. The dancers were Javier Cardona, Morgan Thorson, Alejandra Martorell, and myself. The camera angle was always moving so deciding how to orient myself in the dancing was a challenge. Eventually I arrived at orienting myself always towards the ocean. The audience is the ocean.â€ 
The audience gets to experience a journey of the spaces and ecologies that Monson and the other dancers migrated in Monsonâ€™s choreography, and it also gets to become part of that environment itself. Monsonâ€™s choice to make the ocean the point of orientation and her further choice to allow the audience to occupy that position, creates a complex dynamic of waves and force that oscillate between the performer and the audience. It is also in Monsonâ€™s processes of research and choreography that point to the ecological systems along the migratory path. Monson describes her work as dance research; the movement generated during the migration is knowledge-making. I would further argue that the audienceâ€™s experience of viewing the video, the digital archive, and the live performance, while also becoming a participatory element of the system created in the theater are all knowledge-making practices which coalesce in a system of bodies and the environments in which they inhabit. Describing this process of knowledge-making, Monson states that
â€œthe knowledge has to do with understanding the relationships between events and systems. When Iâ€™m dancing, Iâ€™m bringing multiple ways of perceiving information of movement, sensory, imaginative, and analytical registers. Iâ€™m processing information of the world and using it to make choices about movement in the world. The multiple systems I am moving and that are moving me help me to understand the complex systems I am perceiving. There is also the phenomenological approach – as I am moving, the world is showing up for me, itâ€™s changed by my moving, and as I move I also show up for the world. The knowledge is about ways of putting things together in multiple modes, holding unstable relationships of meaning and conditions of existence.â€ 
Phenomenologist Maxine Sheets-Johnstone writes about the primacy of movement in our consciousness of the world. In her book The Primacy of Movement, she states that â€œWe make sense of ourselves in the course of moving.â€ Â However, movement is not only sense-making, but constitutive and generative of the self that is moving. Further, Sheets-Johnstone claims that â€œIn effect, movement forms the I that moves before the I that moves forms movement.â€ Â These two phenomenological statements seem to permeate Monsonâ€™s process of research and performance. Her work explores the ways in which ecological systems function and the dancing bodyâ€™s relationship with and in these systems.
The live performance of Live Dancing Archive was itself a system. This component of the archive also consisted of multiple parts including the movement, live sound, and live stage and lighting design changes and manipulations. The sound, composed and performed by Jeff Kolar, an audio artist based in Chicago, is â€œgenerated live through field experiments in the AM/FM, Shortwave, Citizens, and Unlicensed radio spectrums. The instrument arrangement of handmade radio transmitters and receivers respond directly to external weather phenomena, wireless technology systems, and human activity.â€ Â After the performance I attended, Kolar explained that there were more â€œghostsâ€ being picked up by the receivers that night than had usually been happening for the other performances. The fluctuations occurring in the systems of the electromagnetic spectrum and the Hertzian space surrounding and emanating from the instruments, the electronic objects of the audience members, and the other technologies that exist in and around the space of The Kitchen directly impacted the sound performance and thus the entire ecology of the live performance.
The live manipulation of the lighting and stage, performed and designed by Joe Levasseur, who has received two Bessie awards for his design work, was a continual shifting of the ecology of the theater space. The minimal stage props and lighting, reminiscent of Isamu Noguchiâ€™s stage designs for Martha Graham, seemed to create the boundaries of space and time. The stage prop, a long wooden board on wheels, serves as the â€œhorizon lineâ€ that can move and shift. At times, Monson herself moved the horizon line, thus changing the orientation of the horizon and its relationship to the audience, the ocean. The lighting was able to move around the stage as well and was manipulable by Monson and Levasseur. The turning on and off of the light, sometimes a single light that was moved around the stage, seemed to control the limits of the perceptual experience of the work. Our perception is always bounded; we cannot see the backs of our heads, our eyes even work through an amalgamation of small focal points, congealed in our brains – we donâ€™t see the world as a clear image; our perception of the world is a complex system composed of interweaving aspects that need to work together to form a coherent experience of the world.
Jennifer Monson, Live Dancing Archive (Photo by Paula Court)
Phenomenology, the philosophical study of our experiencing of the worldâ€™s phenomena, understands our bodies as the entities that world the world. The world is mediating through our perceptual experience of it and the world appears for us through our engagement with it. Monsonâ€™s work takes this phenomenological understanding of the world seriously in her research processes and the performances that result from them. Much of the research process involves improvisational movement in the places along the migratory route Monson was following. In Ann Cooper Albrightâ€™s article â€œSituated Dancing: Notes from Three Decades in Contact with Phenomenology,â€ she describes the transition from considering the aesthetics of dance to the phenomenology â€œbecause phenomenology focuses attention on the circumstances of this active â€œbecoming.â€ Â Though Albright is discussing more specifically Contact Improvisation, she incorporates the notion of embodied research, an important aspect of Monsonâ€™s work. Albright describes embodied research as a process that â€œrequires that one engages seriously with the ambiguity that results from trying to conceptualize bodily experience that can be quite elusive. It requires patience with the partiality of physical knowing as well as a curiosity about how theoretical paradigms will shift in the midst of that bodily experience.â€ Â This situated-ness of research also can be placed in a feminist tradition stemming from feminist epistemology and the notion of situated knowledge explored by Donna Haraway in her essay â€œSituated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective.â€ Monsonâ€™s method of phenomenological epistemology of ecology speaks well to feminist conversations about science and the generation of scientific knowledge.
Jennifer Monson and Jeff Kolar, Live Dancing Archive (Photo by Yi-Chun Wu)
In thinking about what this means for an archive and the processes of archival practices, Live Dancing Archive speaks to the ways in which archives have to be generated; they do not simply exist in the world. They are always subject to the particular bodies controlling their collection, documentation, storage, and availability. The interesting aspect of Monsonâ€™s work for conversations about the archive is the tension of the usual goal of the archive â€” infinite storage for an infinite amount of time â€” and the ephemerality of movement. Can we ever say that an archive is a permanent collection of materials that simply narrate history? Archives are subject to the circumstances of the world â€” floods, unemployment, politics, fires â€” and any notion that we can make a truly permanent archive is contingent on the resources available and ideologies of the day. Monsonâ€™s Live Dancing Archive made me think critically about these aspects of making and transmitting history. Her movement, some of which I was able to glean from the video installation, is able to capture the singularity of the movement in its original form, though changed, made into something different in its repetition. Her attention to the specificities of place and the ecological systems constituting it along with bodily and movement singularities, creates a complex of environmental knowledge and history within the performance and the dancing body.
Jennifer Monson (Photo by Valerie Oliveiro)
Live Dancing Archive is featured in the upcoming 2013 Dance Improvisation Festival organized by Columbia College Chicagoâ€™s Dance Center and curated by Lisa Gonzales with support from Links Hall, taking place June 3-8, 2013. Monsonâ€™s Live Dancing Archive will be performed Thursday, June 6, 2013 at 8PM. Be sure to visit the Dance Improvisation Festivalâ€™s website for tickets, information, and schedule of other workshops. http://www.colum.edu/Dance_Center/performances/2013improvfest/
Live Dancing Archive Collaborators:
Jennifer Monson: Choreography
Robin Vachal: Video Installation
Jeff Kolar: Composer
Joe Levasseur: Lighting
Susan Becker: Costumes
Betsy Brandt: Dramaturge
Davison Scandrett: Production Manager
Youngjae Josephine Bae: Digital Archive
Tatyana Tenenbaum: Dresser
 Jennifer Monson, “Program Notes,” in Jennifer Monson/iLAND Live Dancing Archive (New York: The Kitchen, 2013), 4.
 Ibid., 5.
Â Ibid., 5.
Â Ibid., 4-5.
 Ibid., 4.
 Personal Interview with Monson, 4.16.2013.
Â Maxine Sheets-Johnstone, The Primacy of Movement,Â expanded second edition (Amsterdam and Philadelphia: Johns Benjamins Publishing Company, 2011), 117.
Â Ibid., 119.
 Monson, “Program Notes,” 4.
Â Ann Cooper Albright, â€œSituated Dancing: Notes from Three Decades in Contact with Phenomenology,â€ Dance Research Journal, vol. 43, no. 2 (Winter 2011), 9.
Â Ibid., 14.
Are immigrants better at putting deconstruction to work?
As an immigrant myself, I think I understand Jacques Derrida because he was also an immigrant. The immigrant experienceâ€”mine, to be sureâ€”is one of becoming decentered and of finding one self in a foreign place where one has to introduce one self (and to be introduced) as a representative abstraction of another culture and as a brief (and textual) identity. If deconstruction acts as the de facto method put to work by many postmodern (or hipster) writers, then dislocation acts as a biographical trope for the radical multiplication of readings.
To strategically essentialize based on my experience, I would agree that ESL poets see and hear English from the outside as a strange and awkward medium because learning to communicate with a new language demands more sensitive attention to its materiality than it does for native speakers. The shock of the idiomatic phrase delights the foreign tongue because the foreigner hears (as does John Ashbery) in the wisdom of slang and clichÃ©s the horded culture of a people, a zeitgeist or an essence of a place in time, a myth of origin. The foreign poet takes delight in these loaded everyday dictums and listens with his tongue. (Tanta 29)
Poetry is dead. Rumors of poetryâ€™s still being alive have been greatly exaggerated and greatly promulgated in the service of war profiteering. The future of poetry is Creative Nonfiction. Verse or the breaking of lines into discrete acoustic, visual, semantic, breath, or idiomatic units is as overâ€”and as quaintâ€”as the villanelle was to Walt Whitman. Having said the above, the quicksand of narrative with its immersive pleasuresâ€”readily commodifiable by glocal capitalâ€”stands bloated and waiting to be exploded by the raw teeth of form. Content comes and content goes, but only form will break the bones of our assumptions.
Musing on our mania for the new, Andrei Codrescu writes: â€œThe most valuable commodity, right after human energy, is style. If styles donâ€™t change to arouse us to trade in yesterdayâ€™s model for todayâ€™s, the world collapses. Style feeds capital, and so it can never be allowed to devolve into the familiar, it must aspire to multidimensionality, to complexity â€¦ to poetry.â€ (94-5) Codrescuâ€™s critical observation points to the troublesome wedding between kinds of aesthetic progress (that feeling of forward motion in cultural time) and profit-making schemes.
Deconstructing the host language and host culture and host food ways, the newcomer waffles between acculturation and assimilation. In banal and extravagant ways the immigrant has to choose between remaining a kind of billboard for national excess and blending in. The immigrant poet has to choose between representing and ignoring her or his location-trouble. Somehow, the immigrant is forced to be hip in that she or he has to create a network in order to survive, to thrive, and eventually to erect a white picket fence around a set of habits commonly known as an identity.
Performing the categorical violence in deciding whatâ€™s hip and not hip remains todayâ€”as it ever wasâ€”relative to the degree of innocence afforded by various conceptual and material comforts. In the end, the choice of contemporary American hipster poets to be aware or innocent of the difficulties of mindfulness has got to be left with the individual.
Codrescu, Andrei. â€œThe Poetry Lesson.â€ Princeton UP, 2010.
Tanta, Gene. Unusual Woods. Buffalo: BlazeVOX Books, 2010.