Sarah Wagner's blog

Still getting used to it

Sarah Wagner — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 02:56:24 +0000

Waiting in the HEB checkout line, I stared at magazines like these lined up above the conveyor belt:

As I stood there, thinking about the messages the covers were putting out there (fatherhood, get-to-know-your-new-president), I saw the second layer of the argument. Again, as happened the day after the election, it sunk in: A Black family will be moving into the White House. We have a Black President. I think the raw, everydayness of the pictures in pop magazines made it even more powerful--President Barack Obama is now an everyday thing, about to become old news as all news does these days.

Madam and Eve

Sarah Wagner — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 18:52:25 +0000

Check out Madam and Eve, a great cartoon set in South Africa:

In another blog entry, I confessed to having learned most of my Vietnam War-era history through Doonesbury. It's true, and I'm not ashamed. Like The Daily Show, history with concurrent criticism isn't such a bad thing. When I started reading this strip, I was sucked in immediately, mostly because of the chance to get an alternate world view. I started looking up things like the phrase "bring me my machine gun" and learning about Zimbabwean/South African relations before it come into the American news cycle. Very cool.

Progression or Perpetuation?

Sarah Wagner — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 17:44:52 +0000

An organization called Casey Family Programs has produced several new ads about foster care that have shown up on television and the sides of buses here in the Austin area.

The website for the campaign is here: "Raisemeup.org"

The campaign highlights the possible futures facing children in the foster care system, futures which include high rates of homelessness, PTSD, and crime. The hook is that you "don't have to raise a child to raise them up"--that is, there are many ways to give these kids help besides fostering and adopting.

This is certainly true--there is so much that needs to be done to help these kids face the often insurmountable obstacles, and the efforts of the Casey Family Programs to get more people more involved can only help. But in a conversation with a woman who has lived through the foster care system, we debated whether these ads help progress our attitudes about foster kids, or perpetuate stereotypes of these kids as "problems".

It's not that they aren't troubled, who wouldn't be? Many kids, especially older ones, go through multiple placements. The woman I know remembers 11 homes; there may have been more. If you're not adopted, at age 18, you're done. No more homes, no more case workers providing even minimal continuity. This kid with little knowledge of functioning relationships, who's spent the past several years with no family, is told to get a job and make it work. So high rates of homelessness and crime are to be expected.

This very, very simplified account is some of the background that we don't see in the ads. And I'm not convinced all viewers need to see it. But those who have only a passing concern for this issue (I understand everyone has priorities) only see that one image: foster kid = societal problem. Is that enough to get people involved?

Visual Rhetoric and Invisibility

Sarah Wagner — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 03:18:28 +0000

Where is the line between visual and textual rhetoric? A brief event brought this question up for me on a personal level recently.

I was on the phone with the IRS and they asked me two questions. First, is my last name my married name or my maiden name? Second, on my last return, how did I file? The answer I gave to the first was “married” and to the second was “single”. And I'm being forced to lie, or rather, to leave out part of the story. Sure, the IRS woman doesn't care--married people file single every day--but I hate it. Time after time, I have to answer questions like those the same way. I'm not single, I've been married for three years, and was with my wife for seven before that. My maiden name is my married name; my wife took my last name. D'you see? I'm a woman (if you didn't catch the byline), and I married another woman in Massachusetts before we moved to Texas. Here, I'm married only because I say so. Here, I'm “married.”

So why does this have anything to do with visual rhetoric? Because in one sense it has something very much to do with visibility. I'm not only not married because the text of many of our laws says I'm can't be, but because others' ability to picture in their heads a woman saying “My wife and I were talking the other day...” affects their ability to accept my reality. And it's my inability too: back in Massachusetts, there was a columnist—I forget the name—who wrote every so often for the back page of the Sunday magazine. The back page was on relationships, and this writer was great. Not once, but twice, I thought, “I have to remember to read this writer more often”, and when I looked for the byline, I was caught off guard both times because this person writing “My husband does this and that” was a man.

Another case of visibility--or rather, invisibility--is when I fill out a form. Just take the word “form”: there's form and then there's content, right? So the expectation of the folks handing out and filling out forms is that there will be certain predictable requests for information. We don't read forms for content—we look to see which line takes our name, whether there are brackets for our area code, and so on. The extra boxes giving us more choices to identify ourselves are equally visual arguments. If we agree you exist--Pacific Islanders, “Other” ethnicities, gays and lesbians--you get a box of your own. Again, it's about whether or not people can envision me. Can they picture my relationship in their heads?

Holy Man*

Sarah Wagner — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 19:41:45 +0000

So earlier this week, I'm checking my news online and I come across this photo of Barack Obama:

I immediately flagged it and sent it off to some friends and family. "What a smart photographer," said my sister Karin. It's not often that photographers get a chance to document a mundane event while also documenting the metaconversation happening across the country. Not only does Obama look like he has a halo around his head and torso, but the photo (at least online) is so flat it looks like a 15th-century painting. If he had had two fingers raised rather than one, I'd have titled this entry "The Second Coming".

(*Read this title two ways: put the stress on 'holy' and it describes the effect of the picture; put the stress on 'man'--holy man--and you get an a propos exclamation!)

Story of Stuff Part Deux

Sarah Wagner — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 14:22:18 +0000

Well. So much for being technologically savvy. After telling my students that I couldn’t find her bio anywhere, they hopped on the computer and found it within seconds. “Uh, Mrs. Wagner? I googled Annie Leonard and found her bio, right here on the Story of Stuff site.” In my head I thanked my years of teaching experience for my ability to not know something in front of my class. But anyhow, let me describe this class to you because it really worked well.

As I wrote in the last post, I showed the Story of Stuff in my class because it’s an engaging video with some problems. When we got back to class this past Tuesday, I asked the class to recap the video and then to continue the discussion of its weaker points. The first part of the discussion was more on audience. Because, as they’d pointed out, the narrator’s tone of voice is a bit condescending to them, the students thought maybe the audience could be younger, maybe in middle or high school. But then the vocabulary she used and the nature of the topic led them to dismiss that as an audience. One student suggested that Leonard would want her audience to be those who can make a difference, and he believed that would be people with financial resources at their disposal. A debate ensued over whether those with the luxury of financial security really are the only ones who can create political and social change.

Then another student wondered whether Leonard had really argued a proposal or just a position in this video. Was her intention just education and awareness, or did she want us to do something? We watched the end again and found that she’d proposed that we “unite” and that to find other ways of making changes, we can “click around” on the Story of Stuff website. All proposals. This student agreed that there were proposals but held to his belief that Leonard’s political standpoint might be down the road of “ecosocialism” (a term he used that I haven’t heard before) or even violent revolution.

I asked the class to pair up and discuss how they were going to write a rhetorical analysis on the video, and all of them immediately got online and started looking around. Their level of engagement was higher than I’d seen for any subject. They were on a mission to find out what this woman was doing. In their searches, they found not only her bio, but Leonard’s list of proposals and a Daily Kos article reviewing the video. One of the students looking at her proposals was Mr. Ecosocialism, and he pointed out that two of them confirmed his suspicions about Leonard’s politics. The first was “7. Park your car and walk…and when necessary MARCH!” Yes, it sounds radical, but when reading the subsequent description, we found that she’s suggesting peaceful protests. So much for violent revolution. The second was “9. Recycle your trash…and, recycle your elected officials.” Well, maybe a little peaceful revolution is what she’s going for.

Thursday, the class turned in their rhetorical analyses, and to a person they said that two pages was too short. This, from students who normally were hitting just over a page long on their other ones. I wished I’d used the video earlier as they were just starting in the class. This generation is so visually oriented that it makes sense to use a visual text first. That way, they can draw on what they know already—what makes a good video, a good cartoon, a good internet site? They have something to say at the start, and then they can learn the technical rhetorical terms for their thoughts and ideas rather than assuming it’s all new information. Give them a reason or a connection to calling something “ethos” or “pathos” and its relevance might be just that clearer to them.

The Story of Stuff

Sarah Wagner — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 12:54:36 +0000

So I showed the video “The Story of Stuff” to my rhetoric and writing class this past week. We’re doing the basics in this class—learning how to argue by learning how to analyze others’ arguments. Made by a woman named Annie Leonard, the 20-minute half-animated video details the history of our post-World War II consumer economy.

She describes the linear system of production and consumption, from extraction to disposal and argues that this system can not work in a finite environment. It’s a pithy, funny, engaging piece that seems to be getting a lot of attention. And for my class’ sake, it’s a fantastic example of an argument that shows pathos, ethos and logos in spades.

However, the main reason I was willing to show such a pointedly political video (if I can argue that a strongly environmentalist viewpoint is political) is because the piece also has some problems. There is nowhere on the site that I can find any information about who this woman is, where she’s from, or why she did this piece. I could look up the foundation that supports and holds the copyright, but the point is that it’s not readily accessible. I also don’t know when the piece was made, nor who it was made for. Finally, her facts and figures are not referenced anywhere on the site. Sure, it’s like any writer, if you want to know, look it up. But the technology of the internet allows for citing pretty easily, why not do it?

These points allow for a rich discussion in class—who do you think it was made for? Why? What about the graphics, were they engaging? Are you the audience? The Story of Stuff also allows me to push these young students (most fresh out of high school) to think more about how they think—to use the knowledge they have to inform their reading of the text. What do you trust or distrust in this video? Why? What do you know about the internet and about graphics that can tell you about the audience? Their engagement with this video provides fertile ground for making their analyses meaningful and deeper than they have been so far.

Game On!

Sarah Wagner — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 00:43:15 +0000

I couldn’t be happier. After years of watching new versions of one of my favorite commercials

Microsoft finally took up the challenge and came back with a counter-ad.

It’s one of the clearest examples of ethos in a visual argument that I’ve seen. Bill Gates (“BG” to some) is there, looking like his next-door-neighbor-professor-y self, along with Deepak Chopra and others maybe more recognizable to people more in the know than I am. Being a PC is not depressing and brown, it’s rich and colorful and happy! It’s not office drone uncool, it’s rebelliously hip! Being a PC means you’re worldly, eco-friendly, caring and nice. A challenge to authority—but in a good way.

If you're a PC, you’re Everywoman or Everyman. And you’ve got friends.

BG sure knows how to throw down. What’ll Mac do now?

The Simplicity of a Line

Sarah Wagner — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 20:22:43 +0000

Cartoons—your everyday, old-fashioned ones—are one of my true loves. I haven’t studied graphic art theory, I don’t get into manga, I have no idea who the radical artists are out there. I think it’s a great medium, full of possibilities for telling stories, presenting viewpoints, making people laugh and think. Heck, I learned most of my Vietnam-era US political history from reading old Doonesbury books. Graphic novels? I’ve read two (V for Vendetta and Fun Home) and loved them. But let’s just say I’m a casual but enthusiastic lover of the comics.

This one is called Spot the Frog by Mark Heath. I learned about it from another website, where someone who follows these things more actively said this was one to check out. So I did. I loved it—but couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There’s always been something about its cuteness that’s more than just cute. And then I saw the first panel of this strip. I was immediately homesick for Maine’s winters, for the beauty and quiet that lie all around, even surrounding our largest cities. I know this snow, I know that sun. I can tell you just about what month it is, and the temperature; I know what I’d be wearing if I were there. The simplicity of Heath’s two lines for snow covered hills not only allows me to fill in the scene with my own memories, but it is the scene. The simplicity is there in real life—those hills are just two lines, no detail, no movement, absolute silence.

Except for the frogs. They’re just silly.

[Mark Heath stopped the strip this past July, but they’re still running old ones at comics.com. You can find the one above here.]

Inherit the Wind

Sarah Wagner — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 20:25:09 +0000

Made in 1960, Inherit the Wind is a closely rendered version of the "Scopes Monkey Trial" of 1925, with most of the courtroom arguments being taken straight from the trial transcripts.

(I’ve been surprised by how many people have never seen this movie, and that some don’t know the trial very well. For a summary, check out this entry in wikipedia.) The rhetoric text I’m using this semester, The Elements of Persuasion, has a whole chapter devoted to the actual trial, so showing the movie fit in especially nicely this semeter.

The movie works very well in a 306 class as a way to discuss arguments on several levels. First, there's the basic argument of the trial, which was not just about the Tennessee law forbidding the teaching of evolution, but about the reconciliation of scientific and religious views of the world. At the same time, there is the subject of admissible information: the court rules that scientists who would argue the validity of the theory of evolution are not allowed to testify, based on the judge’s ruling that its validity has no bearing on whether or not Scopes (“Cates” in the movie) violated the law.

And then, of course, there is the argument being made by Stanley Kramer, the director of the movie. While many of us might see the legal case alone, the defense and the prosecution arguing the Truth of the Bible versus the Truth of Intelligence (which are indeed major arguments), and while many of us might feel justified in seeing creationism and its proponents as ridiculous, the director is after something else. In this movie there are five central characters: the Teacher, his Fiancée, a Baptist Minister (the Fiancée’s father), and the Defense and Prosecuting attorneys. The Teacher and the Minister stand for intellectualism and religion, or maybe “thinking” and “faith”. The attorneys are those who would defend each. The Fiancée, caught between her father and her husband-to-be, loves Thinking and wants to love and be loved by Faith. Herein lies the real struggle. She loves both, but is told that she can’t love Thinking and be loved by Faith, nor can she stay connected to her Faith and love Thinking.

With the movie’s tight camera work during the trial scenes, the tension between these two all-or-nothing perspectives on the world builds dramatically to two points in particular: one in which Brady, the Fundamentalist Prosecutor, reduces the Fiancée to sobs when he shouts at her to condemn her lover; the other in which the Defense brings Brady to his own demise, left stammering on the stand as his disappointed supporters leave the courtroom. At first glance, it’s a victory of Thinking over Faith. And yet, the sight of the Prosecutor, a good man and a gifted and beloved orator, trying to find his footing by nonsensically reciting the books of the Bible, is heartbreaking.

What has surprised me most about showing this black-and-white movie in class is the students’ engagement with it. The first thing I notice is that they laugh—at the melodramatic scenes as well as at the parts meant to be funny to the 1960 audience. And in a scene near the end, they react with intense shock (imagine a classroom-sized sharp in-breath) to a slap in the face. They seem to connect, unsurprisingly, to the cynical reporter (based on H.L Mencken). I see no nodding heads, I don’t have to wake anyone up. Why? In one class discussion a couple semesters ago, one student couldn’t believe the trial happened nearly 100 years ago because at her Christian high school, this debate was still very much alive. Another student remarked that the movie was especially interesting to him as a biology major.

The movie, especially this semester, is not old. As all of us watch the current political news, we hear discussions about small-town conservative America versus progressive urban America, about intellect versus common sense, and about faith versus logic. People bemoan the divisions in our country, and yet hold fast to the idea that they are right to value their perspective over another. The other side is so ridiculous as to be angering, and their views do not deserve to be reconciled with ours. Still we say, you can’t love faith and logic, small-town America and progressive policies, book learning and common sense.

(I expect many of you know the website American Rhetoric. If not, you should check it out. This site gave me the idea to show Inherit the Wind in my 306 class in the first place. Click this link and you can watch one of the crucial scenes of the trial, and/or read the transcript from the movie.)
americanrhetoric.com