The Needle’s Last Bounce

As is noted in the last post, perhaps Trueba suggests that he and Alba write down their lives to remind Alba of her origins and family background. The idea that who-you-are-born-to-defines-who-you-are seems to be rather imbedded in Trueba’s beliefs, even if by the end of the novel he may feel pity towards those unfairly treated due to their status.

Esteban García’s supposed need to take revenge on Trueba’s daughter likewise portrays an importance of family blood. Raping Alba to avenge his grandmother from Alba's grandfather, Trueba, is an obvious conviction that hurting her equals hurting him. Aside from the two Truebas being family members, the two are nothing alike. How can García be satisfied by taking his revenge out on another person than the one he considers his enemy? Does autonomy not play a role in this endeavor?

Connecting these examples one may wonder whether Isabel Allende believes that a person is defined by his/her family blood ties. 

Or

Is she addressing just the opposite? 

The overwhelming difference between the Trueba children, such as Jaime’s care for others and Nicholas’ practical indifference, may allow the reader to judge one’s environment as the defining factor of who a person is, as is noted by the boys’ upbringing at an English (I think) boarding school. 

Then again, maybe that is just a cover-up for what Allende really believes to be true, that family does trump all other factors. Nicholas seems to inherit Uncle Marcos's desire to travel and invent. Then again, though he pursues spiritual enlightenment, it seems that he did not inherit such qualities from his mother. Likewise, the imaginary creatures that Rosa imprinted in her quilts and the ones that appeared on Alba’s wall may suggest that the two are linked. Through this same observation one may argue that it is the spiritual environment that revolves around the two that influence the girls’ creations.

Aha! Then it is environment that shapes a person. Right? If both Rosa and Alba, and even Blanca’s pottery creatures, are linked in the spiritual world, it is that realm that tells them who they are.

Or maybe not.

Is it both? Do both family relations and environment make a person who they are?

The two are definitely influencing factors but in the end they can never define who a person is. 

May it be as it may be.

An Evenly Odd Family

What a strange family. Clara’s statement declaring the weird factor in every family being equally distributed among all the members of the Trueba household definitely holds true. Among their weird traits they all share a common quality: stubbornness.

Each character is unyielding to something they hold dear. Clara lives in la-la land, Jamie has to help those in need, Nicholas is devoted to his Institute for Union with Nothingness as well as money, Blanca is clinging to Pedro while he has his music to stir people’s thoughts, Alba brings everyone’s burdens upon herself, García will not let go of revenge, and Ferula surrounds herself with poverty and rituals.

The one who is thought to be the most stubborn of all, Trueba, seems to have a change of heart. He trusts in the traditional system, the way things have always been. The Republic is his foundation. Whether his motives are selfish ones or not can be argued due to his seemingly convinced notion that some people, like the peasants, need someone to think for them for they are incapable. Either way, he notices that things have changed; he has changed. Is there really injustice? Are people really being beaten? Is his position as Senator actually not strong enough to protect his granddaughter? He regrets the way his country is now functioning; there was a mistake, things did not go according to plan. His pitiful state and awareness of hidden tragedies instills a sorrowful old man waiting to die.

Then again, maybe he is as stubborn as ever. Trueba did not suggest that he and Alba write down their lives to share the story of a nation lacking freedom, but to insure Alba’s origins, her family background. Is there still a sense of what-family-you-are-born-into-determines-who-you-are ideology in Trueba’s thoughts?

Till next time.

A Political Dual

You know, there’s only so much left of the novel that all this foreshadowing seems like it will never be completely revealed. The entire mystery-feel engulfing these pages is something I was ready to dismiss as a fanciful way one was reading a journal based on reality. Seeing as this is still told from the perspective of someone, namely Alba and at times Trueba, who knew the characters personally, I cannot hold to my previous argument.

Fantasy aside, there is quite the political statement roaring through the characters’ lives. The battle between the chickens and the fox.  

Round one. Fight! 

Pedro’s rebellious manners distinguish him from among the peasants as a threat to Trueba.

Trueba responds with a death threat that sends Pedro to hide in secrecy.

Pedro attacks by instilling a proud theme song uniting forces with peasants across the country.

In an extraordinary rage, Trueba lunges at Pedro with an axe! 

Close one, but Pedro lives on.

Round Two.  Fight!

Pedro steels the affection of Trueba’s Family. Oh! There goes Blanca’s love. Ah! Jaime’s friendship just got snatched. Ouch. Say bye to Alba’s music interests.

Trueba fights back for his granddaughter. Can she be the one to follow in his footsteps? Will she see the peasants as incapable of thinking for themselves?

Bummer for Trueba, she’s questioning him. Why does he own the land? Family? Huh?

Oh, and here comes Pedro again. Telling Alba about the poor. Yikes.

But what’s this? Trueba is a Senator? All this Marxism talk looks like it’s hitting powerful ears.

Apparently it’s not doing anything though. Yup, he’s just getting ridiculed. 

Will the chickens win?

I guess we have to wait and see.

Till next time.

Not Ordinarily Ordinary

Mmm, how ‘bout that House of the Spirits book? If I read Rosa the Beautiful and The Three Marias separately I guarantee you I would think I was reading two different novels. I applaud Isabel Allende, the author, for that. Nothing like a good twist to get your mind thinking.

INCEPTION!

Ahem. 

I quite enjoy the fanciful mermaid and future-telling characters, Rosa and Clara del Valle Trueba. Especially exciting is the immediate elimination of a just drawn to character and small innocent age of a powerfully capable character. An obvious make-believe that is fun to engage – Peter Pan is an excellent example of this. Likewise, the uncle portrays quite the invigorating life. To die as he did on the boat seemed a little boring but perhaps that ultimate death is something Allende describes as unavoidable.

If everyone shares the same physical fate in the end do they share the same fates from their beginning? Esteban Trueba’s rant about the peasants on his farm intrigues the reader otherwise. “It would be lovely if we were all created equal, but the fact is we're not." Arguing that those working on the estate cannot and will not amount to anything past their current status is a harsh opinion; even after he rose to a more respectable authority himself. Does everyone have the same problem solving abilities, economic status, social life, or health as his/her neighbor? No. Are we still different? Yes and what a good thing. I would be rather bored with this world if otherwise. In the end (irony) everyone has autonomy. A soul. This is equal footing.

You are unique, just like everybody else.

Makes sense, eh?

Till next time.

 

Care for another unique character? 

Simply click the play button below and say hello to Mr. Timn.

Plug In & Recharge

Recently, we discussed if boredom is a factor that convinces us whether an artist is talented or unique. I would argue that due to the fast-passed society in which we live today this is truly a defining factor on how the majority of art of this era is viewed. We have an individual who via fame, networking, and a new idea becomes an artistic icon. He/she is then followed by others who expand and continue this new idea. As more and more work is configured this new idea becomes something of the past. It is old. It is commonplace. Much like a diamond’s value is placed in its rarity, an art is viewed as special when it is one-of-its-own-kind.

This trend in art can have its advantages. With artists competing for creative styles, beauty, and humour the art world becomes a pool of new ideas. Artists are more inventive. More experimental. There is true passion and a sense of accomplishment and awe.

In turn, this can have its disadvantages. The common artist is an excessively hard worker in his/her competitive environment with no guaranteed rewards. This often gloomy despair and uncertainty in one’s personal life then translates to one’s work as is now the vibe among many visual 2D canvas and 3D sculptural art. While flipping through our text I am constantly faced with a screaming person or a demented figure. Occasionally there is the pure form of a graceful dancer or a productive and aesthetically pleasing architecture. These occasions allow me to smile at modern art.

On a side note, it is quite refreshing to see scientific and technological blurbs here and there throughout our text. Humanities are not exclusively paintings or music but the correlation of all that humans create. This is not a boastful statement, simply the definition that has been established by humans – ha, irony.

Till next time.

The Hippo's Wings

The hippo’s wings! What? 

That is the same reaction I had to Jackson Pollock at work on his splatter of paint in the image on page 87 of our text. 

 

Now, most may frown upon his method of making money. I consider him a lucky chap. Ask me to have fun splashing buckets of paint and mediums onto a canvas 50 times my size and get paid big monies for it and I just may say, “Ok.”

No doubt Pollack enjoys his work. I too enjoy looking at it. I also consider it art. Much like one may consider eating cotton candy while swaying to and fro on a swing an art form. This of course is headed toward a tangent as one may argue that physics is an art and so on but from now on we will stick to the conventional visual arts in this post.

Do I consider it an art of talent? Meh, not really. Kudos to him for making it big with his work but I will not appreciate his so-called skill more than the slightly-creepy-yet-still-talented painter Salvador Dali and his artistic methods in Persistance de la Mémoire. 

This image maintains such fine brush stokes that the painting as a whole appears to be a photograph.

Though Pollock instills the “What!?” factor I automatically picture Lavender Mist hanging in a modern room expanding the sophistication and edgy-look to the space. If I were an interior designer it would be Pollock’s works and those of his contemporizes that I would seek out to complete a look for a client.

Apparently, this hippo has wings.

Till next time.

Creations of Man

Six Characters in Search of an Author. A fascinating, beautiful, almost-made-me-cry experience.

(place sarcasm here)

If I were an audience member paying for a seat to watch this play I would regret it for entertainment's sake. The speech has no class, the back-and-forth question and answer sessions – in supposedly loud-shouting voices mind you – is annoying, the wit and humour are lacking, and so forth. Nonetheless, this production introduces an interesting perspective on what is real. 

Six Characters in Search of an Author is a play that describes a play which in turn is arguing to be more real than the actual play itself. (Yes, you may read that twice if you wish.)

The father does most of the arguing to get the point across. He suggests that he and the other five characters are constant. Never changing. Never dying. They were envisioned one way and that is all they know. 

Do not think about Batman.

Come on man! I told you not to.

Oh, Christian Bale's voice. Classic.

That is an undying character. One with a definite purpose: to save those in distress, to see that justice prevails. In his stories, Batman is always real. Always present.

Likewise, the six characters are written with clear and definite identities.

The father goes on to claim that the producer and actors are less real for their realities change day-by-day. They are just actors: human beings who play pretend. 

But who’s to say that illusion is reality? Who’s to say that consistency is what defines certainty? Man is real. Man is the artist, the giver of life to these characters. If they are real in character, how much more so is he that gave them life. Not to mention having an actual, physical body helps. Duh.

These characters are mere creations of man, right? Can man be the creation of another?

Till next time.

 Huh. I stated the father as being the arguer and not Luigi Pirandello, the play’s author. IRONY!