Elephant Talk

There’s a new book out about the life of Jean-Luc Godard called Everything Is Cinema. Richard Schickel wrote a review of it, but it’s as much a criticism of Godard’s style of filmmaking as it is a critique of the book.

Godard shook up the bland, traditional film industry as part of the French new wave movement starting in the late 1950s. He gave us the jump cut and tore up the idea of continuity. He helped to change the idea of what we can accept aesthetically when we watch a movie, and that enabled the art to take chances with how a story can be constructed.

I’ll get back to that in a minute, but first — I especially liked this part of Schickel’s article:

I‘m not arguing that traditional melodrama is the only worthwhile model for moviemaking. Rather the opposite. The current bankruptcy of the medium — the American craze for special effects, the rest of the world’s reversion to, yes, “the tradition of quality” — is a direct result of caution and uninteresting calculation. But good movies, movies that leave a permanent mark on our imaginations, are not made in the Godard mode. They are made by obsessives, by directors who shut out the distractions of the outside world and fret endlessly over every aspect of their films. The best of these directors eventually achieve thematic and stylistic coherence — whether they are Hitchcock or Bergman, Hawks or Kubrick — and, for better or worse, auteur status. They are aesthetic conservatives, people who find their ground and work it until it is overgrazed: Then, they sit back to watch others imitating them. Unlike Godard, they show almost no interest in advancing the cause of cinema in general, of finding new topics for it to take up, new methods of expressing themselves on the screen. Implicit in their work is the notion that everything is not cinema, that there are matters better suited to other forms — essays, painting, music, even pulp fiction.

This hits squarely on something I think about a lot when it comes to art, but I would extend the idea to all art forms. The “obsessives” are the ones I most appreciate in any art. When I think of my favorite writers, filmmakers and musicians, they’re usually those who have crafted something that I find exquisite. This isn’t a very popular perspective to have these days because we’re flooded with the idea that lo-fi rendering is somehow more real. If I remember back to my grad school readings, I think it has something to do with economics and issues of power. It’s seen as more valuable to break from lofty pursuits of aesthetic “quality” because those notions have been defined by those who supply the paychecks.

I can accept this to a certain degree. We do need to occasionally shake off the cobwebs. We need to find new perspectives and new ways of stretching things. Creativity should be available to everyone. I understand this intellectually. But I also find that such efforts are too often more clever than they are compelling, and rarely if ever move me emotionally. As Martin Scorsese once said about Godard: “He’s too hip for me.” And with some of these movements in post-WWII modernism/postmodernism, there is a hipster code at work that pulls things into their own kind of exclusive cliques. When music and film becomes like fashion something’s gone wrong. You have to ask yourself which is worse, aloof conservativism or snooty antiestablishmentarianism?

I’ll take neither, thank you. I appreciate what Schickel seems to be advocating — those who exist outside of all of that. This unnamable place is where you find those who find their own voice, who have the courage to try and to care, and who aren’t afraid to chase something beautiful.

It’s getting warm here in Busan. While it’s a beautiful day, people I’ve talked to seem to have the same thought: This is just the beginning. In about a month or so things will start to become downright unbearable. But until that time, I’ll enjoy the sunshine.

I’ve never done any English teaching here. I don’t know how to do it. But a colleague suggested that I give my assistant some lessons so that she can get a good score on her TOEIC test coming at the end of the month. If she scores well, there’s a chance for her to take advantage of some interesting possibilities coming on the horizon. At the same time, I could get help from her; she could teach me some conversational Korean.

Today was our first lesson. Damn, it was hard. Hard for her yes, but for me too. English is one crazy fucking language. For example, she wanted to know the difference between “other” and “the others”:

This apple is fresh.
The other apples are rotten.
(or) The others are rotten.

Her question: Why isn’t it “others apples”? I had to think really hard about this. I finally figured out that “others” becomes the noun that replaces “apples” in the second version, and is therefore plural. But in the first version, “other” is an adjective. Adjectives are never plural. At least, I think that’s what’s going on. Her next question: “Okay, so what’s ‘another?’” I made a big sigh and had to give this some thought as well. But eventually we worked our way through it.

You’re in a job interview. You don’t get the job. Someone else did.
“Another person got the job.” (true only if there are several other applicants)
“The other person got the job.” (true only if you were competing with just one other person.)

Later we went over nouns of undefinable quantity: news, luggage, stationary, etc. A single one of each is a “piece,” or a “bit.” Then we tackled the insurmountable problem of: in, to, at, by, with. For instance, are you interested in someone, or interested by someone? Are you engaged in medical research, or with medical research. I tried like hell to find some consistency with the rules, but then my head finally exploded. I couldn’t communicate it to her. Then I taught her a new word: “self-evident” — when you know, you know. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll memorize.”

Around this time, two of my other students happened to pass by, so they came in to visit. One of them spent a year in the States and speaks great English. So I asked the three of them to give me a few Korean phrases. They gave me some good stuff for class:

Be quiet!
Don’t fall asleep!
Let’s take a break now.

Around 7 pm I heard a soft knock on my office door. I opened the door and a girl on the other side jumped. I don’t know why she would be surprised that the knock was answered, but Korean students are a pretty nervous lot anyway. She started speaking really fast.
“No,” I said. “English.”
She exhaled big and rolled her eyes. Then she smiled and cocked her head. “Take your picture?”
“Why?”
“Homework.”

This has happened to me twice now. University students with cameras wanting to take pictures of foreigners. I don’t know what they’re doing with these pictures. I don’t know who’s assigning such homework. I can’t possibly get that far in conversation.

I thought for a second. “OK.”
“Smiiiile!”
Click.
“Anyeonggaseyo.”
“Anyeongigayseyo.”

———-

One of my Korean friends took me out to buy a suit yesterday for a wedding this Saturday. We went to the self-contained megalopolis known as Lotte. When you arrive in the car, they bow and hand you a ticket. When you get to your parking space, they bow and urge you forward. When you go through the front door, they bow and welcome you. They must budget a nice chunk of change for professional greeters.

The only thing I knew was that I didn’t want something shiny. There are way too many shiny suits walking around in this country. I went with something classy. A simple, black, one-button jacket with matching slacks. It retailed for 500,000 won, but with my friend’s discount I got it for 358,000. That included tailoring and delivery.

It was supposed to be delivered today between 2 and 4 pm. It’s now 4:10 pm and it’s not here.

———-

I have a student assistant that I meet with twice a week. She helps me with class stuff and Korean things like the post office and the bank. If I have nothing for her to do, she sits and studies. Yesterday she was studying English.
“What are you learning?”
“Idioms.”
“Ah, idioms. Okay, good.”

At the end of the day I asked her what she learned.
“At all times. In charge of. At no cost.”
“I see. So when you go to work at McDonalds, your boss is in charge of you at all times. And you get fries at no cost.”

She seemed to get a big kick out of that.

In three days I will have been in Korea one full year. What a strange year.

I watched the movie Mindwalk again the other night. One of the last lines has been resonating with me.

I feel like my long weekend in France has just come to a close. Maybe I too am tired of being a stranger, being outside of language and environment which lived, which resonated inside me. Our emotional system, as she might say, needs a larger system to nurture it. It doesn’t make any difference, you’re locked in with the people you know, you need to belong somewhere.

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Things continue to go well at the conference, although I feel a bit out of my element. I’m not a documentary scholar, so much of this stuff goes over my head. I find myself wishing I could just watch these great documentaries they’re referencing. But still, I manage to find some value in the panels, and I’m storing away mental data for future retrieval.

The events have been the best part. Wednesday night was a screening of a fantastic documentary called The Halfmoon Files by German director Philipp Scheffner. It’s a somewhat reflexive film about a documentarian’s effort to give life and story to Indian POWs in WWI through a series of phonograph recordings that were made. The sound design was incredible, really inspiring. It’s touring the festival circuit now, so keep an eye out for it.

Last night was a keynote (actually more of a guest lecture) by Marina Abramovic, a fairly well-known and highly influential performance artist. She was a pioneer in physical performance art, wherein she would harm or manipulate her body in various ways. During one of her shows (”Rhythm 0″), she encouraged an audience to interact with her physically, in any manner, without boundaries. She even placed various objects nearby, one being a gun and a bullet, for people to use on her if they felt so inclined. Pretty intense stuff.

I wish I could recall some of the more interesting things she said. At one point she said (and I’m highly, highly paraphrasing) that in performance art, you first create a structure (either figurative or literal), and then you step into that (literally or figuratively) and move with it in time. She admitted that performance art has a tendency to be long and boring. Her joke: “How many performance artists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” “I don’t know, I was only there for the first 4 hours.” But she mentioned something John Cage once said, that boring is necessary. You need to get to that point in order to move past it. Once you do that, you can relax, remove expectation, and see things in a different way. I like that.

I hope I’m remembering all that right. I’d hate to misrepresent her words. Anyway, it was a great lecture. Today’s the last day, and then there’s a final reception party. Then it’s on to Aachen and into Belgium tomorrow.

I think I’ll have lunch at this Turkish place every day. The food kicks butt, it’s cheap, and… it’s the only place I can find with free wireless.

My presentation finished about two hours ago. I think it went well. No technical issues, and people seemed to enjoy it. I got a few questions afterward — usually the scariest but coolest part — and some people talked to me after. One of the other panelists also mentioned something about my presentation I’d never thought of. If I ever publish this puppy, she’ll at least get a footnote.

That’s pretty much what these conferences are about. Listening to ideas and sharing knowledge. And meeting people. I’ve met a few folks already who are pretty cool. The global representation is a pretty wide net, as are the topics discussed.

Now I can just sit back, listen, learn, and enjoy the panels and screenings for the next two and a half days.

I’m also really liking Bochum. There’s nothing too special about it, but it’s got a nice vibe. There are lots of young people, due to the university nearby, and some great pubs and restaurants. And you can’t beat Christmas time in Germany. They really know how to deck things out and make a festive environment. The whole downtown area is packed with makeshift outdoor pubs and bratwurst stands, there are Santas everywhere, magic shows and full-on outdoor theater for the kids. In fact the one here in Bochum outdoes the one I saw in Berlin.

Burr…. I need to buy new gloves.

Well, I did get the little brat’s cold, but it’s not debilitating. I should be fine for my presentation tomorrow.

I’m halfway through Day 1, yet another exercise in logistic futility. I love feeling stupid, especially the kind brought upon by my own cataclysmic failures in synaptic processing. But there was a good opening presentation, and I just had a delicious lahmacun. And I’m finally enjoying some free wireless access.

For anyone interested, I updated this post about new visa restrictions in Korea. It doesn’t affect me, but it should hugely impact those at private teaching institutions looking to renew contracts, or those looking to come to Korea in search of English teaching work.

The article I linked to there is quite an interesting read. If everything goes as planned, by little home away from home is going to go through some significant changes.

UPDATE (13 Nov.): Here’s an article that explains everything. Key quote for me: “The new regulations will only affect foreigners holding E-2 visas, and those seeking an E-2 visa.” So, cool. I can go forward with my winter travel plans. Of course this sucks for my E-2 friends renewing contracts. Visa runs to Japan are now a thing of the past.

I need to get some kind of Korea-Expat RSS feed going or something, because it seems everyone else knew this news except me: Korea is tightening its visa standards for foreign instructors. Not “foreign workers” mind you, just instructors.

It all started when a foreign teacher, Christopher Paul Neil of Canada, was arrested in Thailand for alleged child sex abuse while living in Korea. I heard about this, but didn’t give it much thought. It was big enough news though, because anytime something like this happens there’s a period of hysteria. We all get affected by it (some are even inspired to react in creative ways). Maybe it’s the collective-consciousness-culture thing, but when a lone idiot fucks up, we’re all seen as responsible… or at least suspect. So now they’re expelling people not for crimes in Korea, but for having criminal records in their home countries.

Apparently it’s all part of a crackdown in Korea. This is where my details get a little hazy because I can’t seem to find any specific reports about this on the internet. But last night at band rehearsal my friends were telling me that to get a new work visa for next year, I now have to get it in my own country. I’ve got a one-year E-1 that expires in March. Previously, we could go to Japan or China to get a new visa, but now we have to go home, then come back. If this is true, it completely screws up my winter break plans. It’s also another expensive flight. And if I’m correctly understanding the US tax laws, it could also potentially cost me tens of thousands of dollars in US income tax.

It’s just bad timing and a few bad seeds. Korea’s been hit with a few incidents lately regarding teachers who lied about credentials or got arrested. So we all have to suffer for their transgressions.

I’ve got nothing to worry about. I have no criminal record and my credentials are legit. I’m just upset that I have to fly across the globe to prove that.

But again, I’m sketchy on the details. Are professors considered “instructors”? Is this just for hagwon teachers? Private universities? Public Universities? E-1 visa-holders or just E-2? I hope to talk to administration tomorrow to see what the real story is. I’ll post an update if I learn more.

The air’s thinner, more clear, and there’s a nice chill that now greets me every morning.

This is something I’ll only get to experience once — how the seasons change here. Next year I’ll know what to expect because I will have been through it by then. But this is my first shift into autumn in Busan. In maybe a month and a half or so I’ll get to know winter.

In San Francisco, we don’t get much seasonal change. It various too much from week to week. I remember the summer I spent writing my thesis; I rarely left my foggy neighborhood and wore my fleece jacket every time I went out for my regular walks. (Note to anyone who has to work on a long document with no deadline: take long walks every day. You’ll need the exercise, you’ll briefly escape the inevitable myopic obsessive/compulsive tendencies, and you’ll be able to get some distance and reflect on whatever story you’re trying to tell.)

You may notice that I’ve started password-protected posts. While I find such moves blatantly rude to readers I don’t know, I also recognize that I’m publishing directly into that unknown aether. In addition to hopefully giving people a glimpse into life here, this space is also a personal diary to family and friends. There are things — mostly uninteresting I should add — that I wish to reserve for them alone. If you know me and want to read, send me an email and I’ll give you the password.