Sunday, October 31, 2010

A short look at Freud


Today, I was planning on doing some work with Ovid, but forgot my book at home.  So I guess for a substitute—I will write about some interesting mythological themes that are prevalent in Freud’s work.  I am of course going to use Eliade as starting point—so to the reader—keep this in mind: this blog is simply a brief study (through the filter of our class topics, of course) of perhaps one of the most important figures of the last 100 years. 
First, let me begin blog by highlighting some of the crucial points pertaining to Freud, in Eliade’s study, Myth and Reality.  In Eliade’s fifth chapter, Time Can Be Overcome, he discusses the importance of beginnings, and even more specifically, the importance of mastering beginnings in archaic societies: “knowledge of the origin of each thing (animal, plant, cosmic object, etc.) confers a kind of magical mastery over it.”  This pursuit of understanding origins is most certainly not exclusive to archaic societies.  Rather (and this sentence is paraphrased from Myth and Reality) the 18th and 19th century ushered in waves—in the western world at least—of disciplines specifically designated to objectively analyze the origins of all things.  One could perhaps refer to my last blog on Foucault: the invisible space of order, which seems to be essential in determining origins.  Anyway, let’s move back to Eliade’s discussion of Freud.  In this time period, the 18th and 19th century, extensive categorization encompassed many things, including the origin of self.  Like the archaic societies, Eliade finds it particularly intriguing that “other vital sciences stress especially the precariousness and imperfection of the beginnings…(where as psychoanalytic theory stresses) the bliss of the origin and beginnings of the human being, and the idea that through memory, or by a ‘going back”, one can relive certain traumatic incidents of early childhood”.  And I am assuming that when one can return to this paradisal time prior to the “bliss before break”, one can obtain a certain level of mastery over it.  Strange, one would think that with the rise of the objective sciences, mythic structures would disappear—yet they remain.
I am well aware that Eliade is trying to avoid too much of a comparison between things seemingly unrelated—yet, I don’t think I have too much at stake, and I can afford to make comparisons between his theories—and damn I wish I had my Ovid with me—and some mythic elements. 

Let’s see, I am currently on Purdue’s website, and it has an introduction to Freud’s psychosexual development.  Here is the link:  http://www.cla.purdue.edu/academic/engl/theory/psychoanalysis/freud.html

 In it the author, Dino Felluga state that: “Freud understood desire (specifically sexual desire) in terms of formative drives, instincts, and appetites that "naturally" determined one's behaviors and beliefs, even as we continually repress those behaviors and beliefs”.  Fascinating, I am sure we can all think of at least 5 stories in the metamorphosis that address a theme of desire.  Let’s move on to how Freud discusses these desires as they develop during childhood.  For the purpose of me not straining myself while writing, I will cut and copy the stages, while mentioning specific stories that demonstrate his notions throughout Ovid.   
0-2 years of age. Early in your development, all of your desires were oriented towards your lips and your mouth, which accepted food, milk, and anything else you could get your hands on (the oral phase). The first object of this stage was, of course, the mother's breast, which could be transferred to auto-erotic objects (thumb-sucking). The mother thus logically became your first "love-object," already a displacement from the earlier object of desire (the breast). When you first recognized the fact of your father, you dealt with him by identifying yourself with him; however, as the sexual wishes directed to your mother grew in intensity, you became possessive of your mother and secretly wished your father out of the picture (the Oedipus complex). This Oedipus complex plays out throughout the next two phases of development.

One could mention the story of Phaethon, trying to usurp his father—phaethon in search of obtaining the reins of the sexually desirable. Also, one could mention the actual story of Oedipus.   

2-4 years of age. Following the oral phase, you entered the sadistic-anal phase, which is split between active and passive impulses: the impulse to mastery on the one hand, which can easily become cruelty; the impulse to scopophilia (love of gazing), on the other hand. This phase was roughly coterminous with a new auto-erotic object: the rectal orifice (hence, the term "sadistic-anal phase"). According to Freud, the child's pleasure in defecation is connected to his or her pleasure in creating something of his or her own, a pleasure that for women is later transferred to child-bearing.

This stage is perhaps best represented in the various stories of Book VI—Arachne and Niobe in particular.  One is the master of their domain, yet cruelty is a consequence.     

4-7 years of age. Finally, you entered the phallic phase, when the penis (or the clitoris, which, according to Freud, stands for the penis in the young girl) become your primary object-cathexis. In this stage, the child becomes fascinated with urination, which is experienced as pleasurable, both in its expulsion and retention. The trauma connected with this phase is that of castration, which makes this phase especially important for the resolution of the Oedipus complex. Over this time, you began to deal with your separation anxieties (and your all-encompassing egoism) by finding symbolic ways of representing and thus controlling the separation from (not to mention your desire for) your mother. You also learned to defer bodily gratification when necessary. In other words, your ego became trained to follow the reality-principle and to control the pleasure-principle, although this ability would not be fully attained until you passed through the latency period. In resolving the Oedipus complex, you also began to identify either with your mother or your father, thus determining the future path of your sexual orientation. That identification took the form of an "ego-ideal," which then aided the formation of your "super-ego": an internalization of the parental function (which Freud usually associated with the father) that eventually manifested itself in your conscience (and sense of guilt). 

I still need to find a story that more precisely matches.


7-12 years of age. Next followed a long "latency period" during which your sexual development was more or less suspended and you concentrated on repressing and sublimating your earlier desires and thus learned to follow the reality-principle. During this phase, you gradually freed yourself from your parents (moving away from the mother and reconciling yourself with your father) or by asserting your independence (if you responded to your incestuous desires by becoming overly subservient to your father). You also moved beyond your childhood egoism and sacrificed something of your own ego to others, thus learning how to love others.

I might be wrong, but I think one could state that Demeter and Presophne have elements of this stage.  Young girl, on her own (lacks sexual desires) is kidnapped by Pluto, yet learns to deal with the separation from the mother—also learns to deal with the reality: learns to love all parties.     

13 years of age onward (or from puberty on). Your development over the latency period allowed you to enter the final genital phase. At this point, you learned to desire members of the opposite sex and to fulfill your instinct to procreate and thus ensure the survival of the human species. 

This stage, for me, is perhaps best demonstrated in Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.  The rape is done to the young boy—sexual anatomy is rendered ambiguous.   
      
For me, the parallels seem to be uncanny.  Yet it is interesting how mythology has been categorized as purely story, where as Freud is more substantial.  Perhaps it is his theories’ ability to assign a mythological importance to all our lives.          

Monday, October 25, 2010

Bad Day: I always seem to be out of time when facing complexities in works of art, philosophy, or literature.

I shall begin this blog by stating this: I had been looking for a bit of clarity concerning Velasquez’s painting, Las Meninas; however, I only found an abundance of confusion.  The painting I am referring to can be viewed in the blog before this one.  Anyway, to give the above mentioned comment context—this is why I have been having a bad day, which seems to be a direct result of reading Michel Foucault’s preface, and chapter on Les Meninas, in The Order Of Things.  I do not dislike the French philosopher, but I do wish his explanation of the painting had not been so complex.  Let me first summarize some of the issues he addresses in the preface of his work, before moving on to his actual theories about the painting, which has manifested a bad day. 
Trust me; mythology is relevant to this discussion.    



Preface: In Foucault’s preface to the Order Of Things, he begins his discussion of the subject matter of his book, by discussing the motivation for it, which was apparently inspired by a piece, by the Argentinean author, Jorge Luis Borges: “As I read the passage…all the familiar landmarks of my thought—our thought, the thought that bears the stamp of our age and our geography—breaking up all ordered surfaces and all the planes with which we are accustomed to tame the wild profusion of existing things, and continue long afterwards to disturb and threaten with collapse our age-old distinction between Same and Other”.  To add further context to this quote, what he is specifically referring to, is Borges description of a Chinese encyclopedia, which seems completely absurd to a westerners classification of things.  Yet, he makes the point that the absurdity, or rather, the marvel of the structure, does not lie in culture differences, but rather in natural methods of categorization—the juxtaposing of objects in an invisible space, exists in all cultures.  The invisible, unthinkable space, he is referring to is “the non-place of language”.  Yet within in this non-place categories would not even exist if “this classification…had…not insinuated itself from the empty space, the interstitial blanks separating all these entities from one another...(even) the mere act of enumeration that heaps all together has a power of enchantment all its own.”  Sorry, the flow of that sentence was a little off.  Anyway, further in the preface, Foucault in a more important statement claims—pertaining to this discussion of classification, that, “in every culture, between the use of what one might call the ordering codes and reflections upon order itself, there is pure the experience of order and modes of being.”  Hmm…that’s rather interesting, and sounds familiar.  Perhaps this is because we have been discussing these subjects all semester.  Let’s reflect for a moment on Dr. Sexson’s article: Myth: The Way We Are or the Way We Were.  Isn’t this also a study of how one categorizes existence so it makes sense, does this article not analyze both extremes—the scientific, and the fantastic—and demonstrate fluently that both fundamentally rely on an invisible plain were order is crucial for existence.  For example, science needs the juxtaposition of myth: the way we were, in order for it to be science, the way we are.  Sorry, this is turning into a digression that needs more explanation latter.  Let me move on to Las Meninas before this day gets worse.

Las Meninas: In his discussion of the painting Las Meninas, I think Foucault is trying to make the point that:  when one looks at the painting, they are the invisible subject, on the invisible palate, in the left hand corner of the painting, that the artist—a self portrait—is painting.  Sorry, this sentence makes sense—I hope—if you actually look at the paining in my previous blog.  Also, what I think Foucault is trying to say about Velasquez’s painting is that it is a visual representation of this blank space, order.  How it accomplishes this feat is by creating a forever moveable category—we the gazers, as we pass by—in a time without limit.  Think about it, the palate forever remains blank, yet the subject doesn’t, and classifications only become more complex in this vertical, possibly horizontal line of order.  Let’s review, the painting is stationary, yet its subject matter isn’t—ordering is stationary.  This becomes even more interesting, because this sentiment seems to be the primary theme of the painting, yet we are duped.  One should motion their glance to the brightly lit mirror, which seems to render the immediate subjects of Velasquez’s painting—the little girl and the dwarf, invisible as well.  So not only are we the subjects invisible they are as well.  I know what you are thinking: WTF, LOL.  However, we can still make out the faint reflection of two subjects in the mirror—so maybe there is a subject.  I give up—I think Foucault states that this painting is all just trickery.    
What a horrible day in the middle.              

Friday, October 15, 2010


For this blog, I just wanted to post an image of Velazquez’s Las Meninas.  While this is not in depth study—which will be coming shortly—I suggest the reader motion their gaze, at the gaze of the subjects in the painting.
Also, look at the image of the painter—are we also the subjects of the work being created?
And here is Picasso’s 20th century rendition: 
  

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Adding more depth to my first blog.

This blog is an extension of the first blog I wrote, and it pertains to my trip to glacier.  To further the context of it, I suggest reading it.  

I am standing on a slick platform, (covered in rain water) hovering above thousands of acres of dark green rainforest. My hand is firmly griped on the railing-- so as to keep balance in case the wind picks up a little more.  In every direction I look, there are serene mountains covered in a thick glacial snowpack, and a mist that rapidly veils, and rapidly unveils their immensity.  These mountains I think to myself are the most jagged and unrecognizable I have ever seen, yet, for some reason, the most familiar.  I look over at my girlfriend, and tell her, “for some reason, I feel very nostalgic.  It is like I have seen all these images of mountain and forest separately, yet now, they are all superimposed in a single pallet—a colossal ode to my memory of natural landscapes.” 

While this memory is of course partially contrived—as is all narrative non-fiction—it is pertinent to several themes Eliade discusses in the chapter Mythologies of Memory and Forgetting.  On page 137 he states that: “it was to be expected that modern man, fallen under the domination of time and obsessed by his own historicity, should try to open himself to the World by acquiring a new dimension in the vastness of the temporal realm…His historiographical horizon being as wide as it has become he is able through anamnesis…(to be) project(ed)…out of his historical moment…(into) a primordial time, the time in which men established their cultural behavior patterns.”  In writing my original blog before reading this chapter of Eliade’s study, I was concerned with how this memory was a return to an origin.  Now I understand that yes it was a return, but a return that is continually expanded by the amnesis mythic study provides.  In reading myths and stories, we are not only revealing how the ancients came to be, but how we came be as well: “:those…who are able to remember their former lives are above all concerned with discovering their own history, parceled out as it is among their countless incarnations.  They try to unify these isolated fragments, to make them parts of a single pattern, in order to discover the direction and meaning of their destiny.  For the unification, through anamnesis, of these totally unrelated fragments of history also implies the joining of the beginning to the end.” 

            So perhaps what I am saying is: common feelings of nostalgia are frighteningly immense, particularly when we read more—thus remembering more

Friday, October 8, 2010

The Creation and The Four Ages

This is another Poem blog so enjoy.
PS: I decided I am just going to select stories from ovid to write poems about.  The entire Metamorphoses is just too much.  I will try to have Apollo and Daphne by the end of the weekend.      


The Creation:




In the beginning:
There was a great a chaos of memories
Clashing for form
In the infinite abyss
Of my prenatal language.     

In what great time do my words exist then?
In what realm, if any—like a falling rose, caught between two voids of peril—
Does my psyche find a voice,
And Extend beyond the heavy collective imagination;
Already saturated with the fragrant words
Of a thousand or more,
Infamous poets.
I conceive this poem for myself than,
An ancestor of Prometheus,
Ingrained in the dank soul,
A student of many disciples
Who now has his own domain. 

The Four Ages:






The Golden Age

In my life,
I have known a time,
Where the smell of flowers—
Many species, I still do not know—
Was enough
(Like mamma’s stitched quilt)
To enshroud me in an existence,
More succulent than:
Any river of primordial nectar.

The Silver Age:

However, in the transition of a life:
We lose our youth,  
And Golden times—
It seems—
Break
Into various seasons. 
I remember the fragrant pollen of spring
Receding into a pestilential summer,
 And the myriad of red and yellow foliage
 Succumbing
To the heavy white lumps of midwinter.

I think—
Yet I still do not know—
That this must have been the year
 I started school,
And time finally found definition.            

  The Bronze Age/ The Iron Age:

And now that seasons and days
Are more marked
 By the viscous necessity of
An escaping time,
I find myself fearful of the future.
Why is it that now, at the age of 17,
I find myself receding into
Wooded nooks, in a deep maple forests,
Dreaming only of gold—eclipsed in bronze.

And here, now,
As I compose this poem,
My Heart is of solid Iron. 
Each day yields new sorrow,
For I cannot help my greed,
And I cannot help but thinking of the
Fragile structure we created due to greed. 
And perhaps soon,
A flood will come,
And we will remember compassion once more.