To Blog or Not to Blog

This blog hasn't been getting much play from me lately, so I'm going to start experimenting to see what kind of blogging style makes me want to come back for more.

At the moment it is primarily a place for me to put all the grotesque detritus that needs a place to hang out comfortably while I decide whether or not it makes the team (thesis). Like they (who, someone) say, what you leave out is as important as what you include. This probably means there will be some random posts.

Hopefully none describing my grotesque sock drawer or lint collection, but no guarantees I'm afraid.

I'm currently writing a paper called "I'll take part of your face and make it mine": Identity, Race and the Grotesk Body in Superhero Comics for my university's annual postgraduate conference. I will be presenting a paper on a related topic at the Gender, Bodies and Technology Conference in Virginia next year, which is very groovy, but also adds certain pressures.

After reading bell hooks as part of my ruminations on race and the grotesque, I came across this video of hooks talking about the value of popular culture as a research topic. I like putting faces to names. Now I will picture her as I read.

Grotext

Did you know the grotesque had its very own font? When I heard the name 'Grotext' I assumed it would be something a bit wild, maybe like this...

No, this is Hirsute Futura. Surely a grotesque font would be a little controversial or thrilling? Something like this...


BloodFeast. Perfect for university assignments, resumes and party invitations. What about a creepy monster font?



Oh yeah. At the very least something wacky and weird. How about Tim Yarzhombeck's typography of beards!

So many options. So what is the grotesque font?


According to the Karsten Luecke Type Foundry: "Grotext preserves a human touch. And history. Whereas most contemporary typefaces assimilate lowercase and uppercase, Grotext does the opposite and emphasizes the difference: Its narrow lowercase make it a space-saver. Its uppercase are wide & classically proportioned... its shapes give it a technical flair."

Um, well. I guess it's... tidy. At least it has technical flair. Right?

The Ruins of the Night

I once had a real dislike for poetry. Too pompous, I thought. Jonathan Swift's scatological poems have played a significant role in bringing me into the poetic fold. This is one of my favourites:

A Beautiful Young Nymph Going to Bed

"Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane,
For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain;
Never did Covent Garden boast
So bright a batter'd, strolling Toast;

No drunken Rake to pick her up,
No Cellar where on Tick to sup;
Returning at the Midnight Hour;
Four Stories climbing to her Bow'r;

Then, seated on a three-legg'd Chair,
Takes off her artificial Hair:
Now, picking out a Crystal Eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.

Her Eye-Brows from a Mouse's Hide,
Stuck on with Art on either Side,
Pulls off with Care, and first displays 'em,
Then in a Play-Book smoothly lays 'em.

Now dextrously her Plumpers draws,
That serve to fill her hollow Jaws.
Untwists a Wire; and from her Gums
A Set of Teeth completely comes.

Pulls out the Rags contriv'd to prop
Her flabby Dugs and down they drop.
Proceeding on, the lovely Goddess
Unlaces next her Steel-Rib'd Bodice;

Which by the Operator's Skill,
Press down the Lumps, the Hollows fill,
Up hoes her Hand, and off she slips
The Bolsters that supply her Hips.

With gentlest Touch, she next explores
Her Shankers, Issues, running Sores,
Effects of many a sad Disaster;
And then to each applies a Plaster.

But must, before she goes to Bed,
Rub off the Daubs of White and Red;
And smooth the Furrows in her Front,
With greasy Paper stuck upon't.

...

CORINNA wakes. A dreadful Sight!
Behold the Ruins of the Night!

A wicked Rat her Plaster stole,
Half eat, and dragged it to his Hole.
The Crystal Eye, alas, was miss'd;
And Puss had on her Plumpers piss'd.

A Pigeon pick'd her Issue-Peas;
And Shock her Tresses fill'd with Fleas.
The Nymph, tho' in this mangled Plight,
Must ev'ry Morn her Limbs unite.

But how shall I describe her Arts
To recollect the scatter'd Parts?
Or show the Anguish, Toil, and Pain,
Of gath'ring up herself again?

The bashful Muse will never bear
In such a Scene to interfere.
Corinna in the Morning dizen'd,
Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison'd."

The mixture of the comic and the tragic here really appeals to me. The poor lady is coming apart at the seams. She absolutely needs a trip to the doctor for those "Shankers, Issues, running Sores." It's all so overdone though, ending in that outrageous claim that anyone who looks at her can't help but vomit spontaneously. And all those animals eating her prosthetics during the night... it's like a Disney film gone horribly wrong.

And, oh look, its grotesque! At least, it is according to Arieh Sachs, who includes the poem in his collection The English Grotesque: An Anthology from Langland to Joyce.

Text from poemhunter.

Gross Science

I find it interesting that adults designing 'educational' science/human body related material for children very often use grotesqueness or the 'gross out' as a framing discourse. These clips exhibit this tendency quite well I think.

This is a Canadian kids TV show called "Grossology"... speaks for itself really.







And below, a special 'gross out and learn' event. I'm not sure where or when it was, but it sure looks fun. I also love the phrase "the impolite science of the human body."

Green Things

I've become more interested in Gargoyles since visiting the UK. They were everywhere, these strange faces protruding from walls, with mouths gaping and grimacing. None of them look particularly cheerful, although some were more mischievous. Which was nice. When the gargoyles look pained, you get the sense that the building is somehow distraught and trying desperately to speak of it. Bit disconcerting really.

I bought Mike Harding's A Little Book of Gargoyles and A Little Book of The Green Man to educate myself a little (heheh, dur). The "Green Man" refers to a face emerging from leaves, apparently. Where I'm from we have other names for men who stare at you from behind bushes, but there you go. On the very first page of Green Man Harding uses the word 'grotesque,' which makes me very well disposed towards him. But all this goes to show how very diffuse the term Grotesque actually is. Sometimes anything remotely ugly or bizarre qualifies: a funny face is often enough. It's not enough for me, personally. Gargoyles and Green Men are perhaps overlapping concepts/categories who share a 'grotesque' thematic: eg. humans morphing into buildings/plants. But does any amount of morphing satisfy the criteria for grotesqueness? How much is enough?

Tangent 1) why must it be a Green Man? A lot of faces in the diminutive book of masculine foliage resemble ladies to my highly biased eye.

Tangent 2) is the character of Poison Ivy a "Green Woman"? She sure has a lot of green going on, being part noxious weed and all. These are the deep questions that consume my days.



Pic from Entertainment Earth.

Chapter #4

I'm thinking of looking at comics for my forth chapter, primarily because I have discovered a recent (2007) Batman series devoted to our hero's battles with a freakish malignant named 'Grotesk.' Now, I haven't read any of the comics yet because I know myself too well. I have #1 and #4 - once I start reading I'm just going to get overexcited and skip the middle issues thus ruining the chronology and upsetting my waters.

Sometime in the next two weeks I will be receiving nearly every comic in which this 'Grotesk' character has starred. Bless the internet. These include such luminaries as Namore the Sub-Mariner (vol 1), The Avengers (vol 20) and The Mighty Thor (vol 481).

It has not escaped me that this chapter may well take my nerd quotient (over 9000!) beyond anything that has gone before.

Chimera and Hybrid Beasts

These are a few of the pics I took while in the UK for the International Gothic Association Conference. I'm fascinated by hybrid beasts. This is partly because of my thesis (hybrid bodies are historically described as 'grotesques'), partly because they come in so many different shapes and sizes: never boring = good for the easily bored (me). London, I found, is full of these creatures. They are literally smothered across every cornice, wall, picture frame and historical monument. Some of these pics are from the British Museum, other are from walking around London. Might put a few more up later.