Classroom visitor

Here's hoping the afterlife offers something better than Harrison Hall.

The above ad for Subaru, titled "Best Friend," embodies Jean Kilbourne's view that "[i]n the world of advertising, lovers grow cold, spouses [and pets] grow old, children grow up and away – but possessions stay with us and never change. "  The message here is clear, buy this Subaru and it will be the one constant in your life . . . and it really will last for twenty years.  We don't, of course, truly believe either claim, but the ad works on us nevertheless because of the emotional appeal.  The twenty-something, urban, socially conscious consumer (Subaru's targeted consumer group) is forward-thinking enough to understand his/her own mortality, so the message Subaru sells is an effective one (whether we want to admit so or not).

Jean Mohr's photographs

I am haunted by the photographs in this piece, especially the photo of the boy in the Grease t-shirt.  The boy, whose age is unknown, though my guess is that he is 9-10 years old, seems wise beyond his years.  His stance--hand on his hip, body swayed to one side--and his gaze directly into the camera offers a challenge to the photographer/viewer.  "Sure.  Take my picture.  And don't forget me because I won't forget you.  Or this place.  Or what has happened to my country."  The Grease t-shirt is wrapped in unintentional symbolism and irony.  Likely the shirt was provided by aid workers in the refuge camp he lives in.  Did aid workers understand the symbolism of a young refuge boy wearing such a symbol of western culture and dominance?  Did the boy wear the shirt as an act of defiance, to usurp that western dominance and pervert it with his own act of defiance?  I wonder what happened to this boy.  Is he still alive?  Does he live in the west? These are the questions that haunt me, that have haunted me for ten years, and that will continue to do so until I can find the answers I seek.

Here's a link to a blog post about Jean Mohr's photos in this essay.  It is from the blog I cite below as one of my favorites.

 http://www.stonesoferasmus.com/2006/09/jean-mohrs-photographs-of-boys-in-after.html#more

Miss Peregrine's pictures

I will be first to admit that Ransom Riggs is only a mediocre writer.  Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children is only a mediocre novel.  So what really attracts me to this text are the pictures and the role they played in the book's origins.  I love the idea of taking "real" photographs and crafting a story around/about them.  The visual image communicates so much, but we don't always take the time to "hear" it, nor do we take the time to consider the impact the image has on us. 

The image that I love best is probably the least peculiar photo, that of Abe and Emma lying on the blanket.  It is such a real moment. You can see the adoration Emma feels, and the disconnectedness of Abe. The photo could tell a thousand stories, but the fact that the woman loves the man more than he loves her is unmistakeable. 

I like all the other photos and I wonder about the photographer who spent so much time in a dark room manipulating them.  What was their original purpose? audience?  How did they find their way into flea markets and the hands of collectors?  What other his/stories could they tell?

Stones of Erasmus

I follow (and keep) many blogs, some on cooking, some on parenting, some on nothing in particular.  But the blog that I enjoy most is Stones of Erasmus.  It is kept by someone I've never met, about a city I've visited only once in my adolescence.  I am drawn to the blog by the writing. The blog author, Grieg Roselli, writes the kind of prose I strive to write, myself, using language in ways that aren't intuitive, establishing a rhythm that makes it difficult for the eye to turn away. His writing is simply mesmerizing. 

I first came across Stones a few years ago when I was teaching Edward Said's essay "States," something we'll be reading in a few weeks.  I have always been awestruck by one of the photographic images taken by Jean Mohr, which Said includes in his text. The image has haunted me for as long as I have taught this piece, so I googled a description of the image--boy in Grease t-shirt at a refugee camp.  Stones was the first site that popped up.  I am so glad I decided to google that picture, using those words, on that day. 

I'm not the only one who loves this blog.  In a typical week, Stones is accessed over a thousand times.  Given that Roselli isn't a famous writer (not yet), actor, musician, politician, heir, or serial killer with a fan club, it is pretty amazing that his blog receives so much traffic. I sometimes like to think about who else might be reading the blog at the exact moment I am.  Where does that person live? Do they know Roselli? Are they drinking coffee?  Are they as neurotic about ordering coffee as I am?  Grande non-fat mocha with 3 shots of espresso, 2 pumps of chocolate and extra foam.  Nah...couldn't be.

One of Roselli's blog projects is to write about every stop on the NYC subway system.  Some of his posts are simple observations, some take the form of stories.  But they are all magnificant.  I feel like I know NYC through these posts, and I feel closer to my friends who live in NYC, many of whom I have not seen for 15 years.  I have one friend who has started following his blog too, and she thinks she saw him one late morning on the subway.  She tried to ask if he wrote Stones of Erasmus, but he wouldn't look up from his laptop to notice her attempts at conversation.  So, Roselli, if you happen to read this post, give us a call out on your blog. And look up from your writing every once and again before the subway stops. 

The Image in this Post May Be Unsettling

This is an ad for Superette, a clothing line and store out of New Zealand.  It is one of many ads that feature dead, bloodied, and mangled human bodies.

Because these ads appear in popular magazines that target young adults, we can safely assume that the intended audience would fall into that age group.  Beyond this, the ads that comprise this campaign almost always feature individuals in risky situations or in surroundings that are posh or culturally significant.  As such, these ads will appeal most to young adults who see themselves as trendsetters, who live life on the edge, and who are culturally well-rounded and  affluent. 

Interestingly, I don't think the immediate purpose of these ads is to compel individuals to go out and shop at Superette.  The clothing here, for instance, takes a back seat to the setting and circumstance.  Instead, I think the purpose is to make the name of the brand and store recognizable and memorable so that when one is shopping and sees a Superette, they will be more likely to take a peak inside, just for the sake of curiosity.  And all retailers know that the most difficult aspect of selling a product is getting a consumer to enter the store. 

Shock value is the main feature of this ad, a pathetic appeal (pun intended).  The emotions evoked here are, of course, shock, perhaps even horror at the lifeless body lying in a pool of blood.  There is nothing logical or credible presented to the viewer to show that Superette does, in fact, offer stylish or well-made clothing (what we'd expect from a clothing ad).  In fact, the featured image is the antithesis of logical--roller skates and a marble spiral staircase?  Only an idiot would attempt such a feat.  

Because of the roller skates and the electric blue go-go dress, the ad seems to invoke images of a 1960s' acid trip gone horribly wrong.   We could consider this an analogy, but it is so poorly done, I won't. 

The marble staircase does exude affluence and historical significance.  These are rhetorical strategies that could be effective in targeting the proper audience for Superette.  

Though my analysis here is harsh, I think this ad is incredibly effective at meeting its purpose.  And I applaud Superette for not shying away from such risky marketing strategies.  And even though I'd never ever buy anything from Superette, if I find myself standing on a street corner across from one of their stores, I might actually take a peak inside.