On Meaning

It is frequently said that there is no such thing as a wrong interpretation.

For poetry, music, visual art, the viewer decides what, to her, is ultimately meant. But what of the intended? Where does its place end? I hold that art is, as a whole, a means of communication, whatever the message may be. As such, what is communicated is not subject to wholescale interpretation.

The band Wilco's most recent full-length album is entitled Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Among its 11 "alternative country" tracks is "I'm the man who loves you," a song whose lyrics include:

all I can see
is black and white
and white and pink
with blades of blue
that lay between
the words I think
on a page
I was meaning
to send to you
I couldn't tell
if it would
bring my heart
the way I wanted
when I started
writing this letter to you
but if I could
you know I would
just hold your hand
and you'd understand
I'm the man who loves you

The meaning here is seemingly simple: it is a love song about a love letter. What a sweet and unabashed expression of adoration, right? But to stop there would be to leave with an incomplete interpretation.

There is something else in these words, a bit of failure, frustration, and possibly cowardice. For a wider interpretation of the song, it helps to know the origin of the album's title. From PopMatters:

Yankee-Hotel-Foxtrot, or YHF, is a high-traffic station on the network of short-wave radio stations operated by Mossad, Israel's intelligence agency. These stations have played an essential role in allowing Mossad to communicate with agents by broadcasting one-way transmissions usually identified with a tactical call-sign consisting of three phonetic letters, such as "Charlie India Oscar" or "Echo Zulu India". Although the broadcast voice is always female, it's not an actual person but a speech synthesizer -- automatic machines do the actual announcing, sending out a seemingly endless stream of rota-styled messages.

There is something fascinating about this necessarily one-sided method of communicating. The message is important, yet obscured by a thick veil of encryption; furthermore, the sender never receives indication if or when the message is received.

Conveniently enough, this idea of unrequited communication can be found in "I'm the man who loves you." The speaker has written a letter, but isn't sure it says what he intends, nor does he know it will be understood as such. Love is only what he meant or wanted to express. And even more, if he could, he would just "hold your hand and you'd understand"; he wouldn't have to say anything at all.

Overall, then, is "I'm the man who loves you" a love song, or a song about the frustrations and inaccuracies of communication? It can certainly be both, but the former interpretation without the latter is clearly missing something.

I am not trying to say that there is only ever a single "right" answer. I am saying that interpretation must take into account something of the creator's intent, or it loses validity, cogency, and meaning. Indeed, I would venture that interpretation of "I'm the man who loves you" would begin, not end, with the revelation that the lyrics center on communication. For example: with his appeal toward silent understanding at the end of the stanza quoted above, is the singer saying he'd rather not say anything because there is no worth in trying, or does he mean that silence can be more effective than words? Or, is his point that misunderstanding vanishes with close proximity?

There are, then, myriad possibilities for interpretation of the song, all of which branch off of the more complete paradigm provided by the album's title. Relative to those explications which account for parallels between letters and short-wave radio, interpretations of the song that are based solely on the presence of words like "love" and "hold your hand" are misguided. They are the allegedly non-existent wrong interpretations. Like translations of an encoded message made without a code-breaker, there is no harm in their existence, but they certainly don't do anything to get the point across.

So why care? Nobody gets hurt if I just believe what I want about a song or a piece of art. I am, after all, entitled to my own opinion. It's art, so I can get whatever I want out of it.

To this I say: why, then, should art exist in the first place? Is it solely to act as a medium for the spiritual masturbation of the populace? In other words, is it there only so you and I can view, listen, or read it and use it as a backdrop for our own musings? No. Art is a communication, a dialogue, in which the sentiments of both creator and perceiver play parts. As in a verbal dialogue, listening to what the other has to say is integral to the success of the conversation.

It is true that some art may have a more active speaking role, whereas other art may have a more active listening role; in the latter case the work in question would be subject to broader interpretation. But in either case, acknowledgement of the creator is essential. Otherwise, the perceiver unequivocally puts words in the creator's mouth and the art is really lost.

Art, then, is something to be explored generously rather than selfishly. Just hold its hand. Then you'll understand.

«Back to top»

Flight or invisibility?

I heard a really interesting story from Chicago Public Radio's This American Life in which the reporter, John Hodgman, talks about his usual conversation starter: were you forced to choose between flight or invisibility and you could only have one superpower, which would it be?

In the story, he explains how, typically, when he asks this question, he observes five stages of choosing one's superpower: initial choice, practical consideration, philosophical re-consideration, self incrimination, and acceptance. Usually, people begin this process with the initial choice of invisibility. When they realize the insidious nature of invisibility, though, (during the "philosophical re-consideration" and "self-incrimination" stages) they switch to flight.

Toward the end of the story, Hodgman includes a statement from a woman who says:

A lot of people are going to tell you that they would choose flight....I think they're saying that because they're trying to sound all mythic and heroic....I think actually if everyone were being perfectly honest...they would want to be invisible so that they can shoplift, get into movies for free, go to exotic places on airplanes without paying for airline tickets, and watch celebrities have sex. [If they do, in fact, choose flight it's because] they have some inflated heroic concept of themselves, and they're not giving it very much practical thought.

Here's what I find so interesting about all of this: I think it's really true. I think most people really would choose invisibility if they went with their innermost desires.

What does this mean about people? I personally think that a huge and integral part of the nebulous "human condition" is our battle against ourselves. As displeasing and horrible as they are, we are stuck with feelings like envy, jealousy, and lust. Additionally, while the prevailing part of us stands by monogamy, I am not wholly convinced that we are wired for it.

I've heard and read several times that we stick to monogamy, though, because there is an evolutionary advantage to it--children are better able to survive in the world and reach ages capable of reproduction when they are raised by two permanent parents, rather than left alone to fend for themselves. (This is kind of ironic since conservatives are all about morals and monogamy and family, but shy away from evolution.) But I stray.

Is choosing invisibility indicative of humans' nature, struggle, and possibly curse, to think one thing and do another? Is "morality" just another name for something that re-routes our innermost desires toward less destructive behavior? Or are our innermost desires part of our morality, too?

Should you want to listen to the actual story, a streaming audio link is available here. I highly recommend it--it's a really great piece.

«Post a comment»


«Back to top»

Augh

Can I just say that people suck?

Today I went to turn in my rental car to Enterprise and realized that the car had two dents and scratches where there were previously none.

I drove this car really carefully over the past few days. And someone had to slam their f***ing car door into my rental car and run away like a nelly bitch. Well screw you!

«Back to top»

Not Calvin after all

I've gotten over another of my fears in the past few days.

Up until Wednesday, I hadn't ridden a bike for about 10 years. It's been more like 15 years since I've ridden one for more than five minutes. Usually, when I've attempted this feat, I would try to turn, then fall over. Even without turning, I had trouble gaining control. So I figured that bikes were pretty scary and that one really could forget how to ride the things.

Well, since my summer internship is in an area very conducive to bike riding, and since I have no car for the summer, I figured now would be as good a time as any to get over this long-held fear of mine.

So I bought a bike yesterday. Don't worry--the lab has this cool system of bikes where you can take any lab-owned bike anywhere within the campus, so I tried riding some of those first. And now I am a proud owner of a nice bike.

They are fun to ride, I am pleased to find. Also, I don't have to run away from the machines due to some perceived insidiousness. Cheers to that.

«Post a comment»


«Back to top»

Juxtaposition No. 2

I guess this weekend at the San Francisco Dyke March and Gay Pride Parade was, in part, typified by interesting juxtapositions. The first one I saw was this fairly butch lesbian playing the violin.

The second was during the parade, when I saw these two groups march one right after the other in the order displayed below:


Anyone else find this at all humorous?



«Post a comment»


«Back to top»

No 'mo complacency

As you may have guessed from all of the updates to the photos page and the previous entry, I spent this past weekend in San Francisco attending the GLBT Pride festivities there. It was a lot of fun, but there was a certain tameness to the Dyke March and the Pride Parade, along with a waiter's comments, that made me think.

During our lunch at Ramblas tapas bar on Valencia St., before heading to Dolores Park for pre-Dyke-March sunbathing, our server commented to us how he felt the Pride weekend had become relatively conservative, as if the LGBT community were so comfortable in San Francisco that there is no longer any need for a radical stance or attitude.

This is certainly not the first time I have discussed or thought about this issue, but I really did feel this same sentiment throughout the weekend. This is a problem, I think. Fortunately, I also felt something strongly in opposition to this complacency as well; we still have a long way to go, no matter what steps toward equal rights we have thus far achieved. A lot of people still despise the gay and lesbian community for reasons I cannot begin to comprehend rationally. Then there is the current battleground of marriage, and the ongoing crisis of HIV/AIDS.

So I wonder if we can afford this transformation of gay pride from strongly political to bubble-gum commercial. During the parade there was an almost awkward mix of marchers with something to say and marchers with something to sell. I personally found it hard to understand what Altoids has to do with gay pride, other than the muscled men in tight red trunks they employed, and it felt weird clapping for their float in the same way it would be strange to cheer for the Old Style vendor at a baseball game.

We still need to make lots of noise for the Pink Team.

«Post a comment»


«Back to top»