Penises and art

Last night, I caught the last half of "Creature Comforts," the US spin-off of Aardman Animations' 1990 Best Animated Short Film winner (created by Nick Park, of "Wallace & Gromit" fame). The interview audio tracks are recorded with "real" Americans, then cast as the various animal characters. Not surprisingly, most of the comments are decidedly inexpert...and that much better for it.

The final segment of last night's episode was entitled "Art." It was delightful, and a welcome change from the often tedious musings of art bloggers. (Tedious is a strong word, but if you read through the long conversations generated by posts like Winkleman's "What's An Artist? Take 459" or Cognitive Daily's "Is Science Art?," you'll likely agree that sometimes even thoughtful dialogue can seem like so much noise.)

The End Is Here?

Living in New York City, one quickly grows accustomed to "architectural advertising." Advertisements for gyms, perfumes, record labels, clothing, books, radio stations, television programs, and movies are plastered on subway station walls, phone kiosks, city buses, taxi cabs, and many building facades. In the course of my five years here, I've come to view this colorful assault as a less offensive version of the billboarding of America's highways. The integration of product placement into the urban landscape not only makes more sense, it is also more easily ignored.

With so much visual competition, an ad agency has to come up with a good pitch to standout. For the past month, the new NBC series "Revelations" has been heavily promoted via architectural advertising. Most noticeable are the Metropolitan Transit Authority buses covered (excepting the windows) in an apocalyptic sunset. "The End Is Here," the text proclaims as an evening flight of ravens lifts above a stoic Bill Pullman and Natasha McElhone. The first time I saw one of the "Revelations" buses, I stared after it as it groaned north up Third Avenue. Several times, over the course of the next week, I caught myself involuntarily shaking my head as I passed a "Revelations" poster in a subway station or audibly "tsk-tsking" when I opened a newspaper and was confronted by an advertising spread heralding the mini-series.

What was it that so unsettled me? As a science fiction fan who, for the most part, has a deep respect for thoughtful religiosity, I was surprised by my negative reaction. Upon watching the (disappointing) first episode of "Revelations," though, I realized that it wasn't so much the program's concept that bothered me as it was the advertising itself. After all, a growing number of evangelical Christians believe that the Rapture is imminent. Visit RaptureReady.com and you'll learn that increases in drug abuse, unemployment, environmental degradation, inflation, natural disasters, starvation, and sloth are all desired, even promoted, by Rapturists! The more of these terrible abuses and tragic events, the more the stage is set for Christ's triumphant return. This may be good for the blindly religious Christians among us, but it is not a good thing for a secular democracy, especially the one in which Thomas Jefferson's "wall of separation" protects those of us who are atheistic, agnostic, or members of a religious minority from the tyranny of theocratic nationalism. So why is NBC promoting the tribal apathy associated with Rapturist belief? The bottom line.

Folks who troll the "eco-blogosphere" have likely read a transcript of Bill Moyers' remarks upon accepting the Harvard Medical School's Global Environmental Citizen Award. It makes for troubling reading and, though I do my best to concentrate on environmental success stories, the doom and gloom is difficult to ignore, no matter what "The Death of Environmentalism" authors prescribe.

From Moyers' address:

"Google it and you will find that the best-selling books in America today are the twelve volumes of the "Left-Behind" series written by the Christian fundamentalist and religious right warrior, Timothy LaHaye. These true believers subscribe to a fantastical theology concocted in the 19th century by a couple of immigrant preachers who took disparate passages from the Bible and wove them into a narrative that has captivated the imagination of millions of Americans.

[...] I've reported on these people, following some of them from Texas to the West Bank. They are sincere, serious, and polite as they tell you they feel called to help bring the rapture on as fulfillment of biblical prophecy. [...] Go to Grist to read a remarkable work of reporting by the journalist, Glenn Scherer - the road to environmental apocalypse. Read it and you will see how millions of Christian fundamentalists may believe that environmental destruction is not only to be disregarded but actually welcomed - even hastened - as a sign of the coming apocalypse.

[...] As Grist makes clear, we're not talking about a handful of fringe lawmakers who hold or are beholden to these beliefs. Nearly half the U.S. Congress before the recent election - 231 legislators in total - more since the election - are backed by the religious right. Forty-five senators and 186 members of the 108th congress earned 80 to 100 percent approval ratings from the three most influential Christian right advocacy groups."

Moyers feels strongly about what he is witnessing and his tone is reactionary and not without hyperbole. As a result, some readers, particularly those predisposed to disagree, will write off his statement as the rant of a now impotent journalist. This is unfortunate. Although I think the political influence of evangelical Rapture-types may be slightly exaggerated in Moyers's address, it should not be ignored. More critically, what of the popular element? With the box office success of Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ," some media critics have begun to call this the "religious entertainment era." Religious entertainment? Upon first hearing this label I immediately thought of the Middle Ages, when religious entertainment was at its pinnacle. It is difficult to imagine 21st century America regressing to such a degree. Or is it?

Jonathan Storm writes in The Philadelphia Inquirer, "lavish and well-made, 'Revelations' sadly seems little more than a cynical grab for the zeitgeist, exploiting the popularity of 'The Passion of the Christ' and 'The Da Vinci Code.' It may attract a big initial audience, curious to see a TV blockbuster pushing the idea that the end is near."

That there exists a "big initial audience" for books, films or television programs "pushing the idea that the end is near" is frightening! It highlights the importance of Moyers's question, "What has happened to our moral imagination?" Are we truly a nation content to be force-fed apathy while participating in an orgy of narcotic consumption? Is there really, as Moyers suggests, an absence of "hocma - the science of the heart?" (The hocma Moyers references is one of Kabbalah's ten Sephirot; it is more often spelled chokhmah, or chochmah, and the best translation is "wisdom.")

I'm presently rereading my father's 1983 Pulitzer Prize nominee, Wanderer on My Native Shore. At the end of the first chapter, which focuses on coastal Maine, he writes,

"...as I contemplate the purple majesty of Cadillac Mountain, I feel an awe for its origins mingled with wonder for human optimism. On one hand, our capacity for hope has created marvelous machinery for drilling through the sea floor. On the other hand, this same optimism has generated laws to protect the eagles soaring over Cadillac Mountain.

Life may, indeed, be a dream, and the best efforts of all mankind may be nothing more than brief shadows on a granite dome. Yet isn't our persistent stretching for perfection in the face of inevitable death what touches humanity with divinity?

Our greatness lies not in our sense of humor or intelligence, for other creatures besides man exhibit humor and intelligence. Our greatness lies in our knowing that, although we are doomed, we still want to fashion a better arrowhead or drill bit, and that men may devote themselves to preserving a hard, but productive, way of life as well as eagles drifting on the winds of time."

Well said, Dad. What worries me, though, is the sense that we seem to care less and less about that stretching. Overwhelmed by consumer choices and our slavish routines, apathy has become pandemic. Rather than try to shake the blues, we proclaim the sickness a sign of the apocalypse and, content to wait, pop pills and watch the TV...'cuz Jesus gonna be here, gonna be here soon.

Photo credit: image ripped from inetours.com

Baseketball

I love this time of year. The weather is terrific, and so are the sports.

Throughout high school I viewed organized athletics as a mandatory requirement (which they were). I loathed playing football (my bum knees and weak wrists are a testament to the breaks and fractures I experienced playing the wretched game), and although I did enjoy basketball and baseball more, the daily commitment and my athletic inadequacy made the games both boring and frustrating. I was an especially lousy batter; my coach screamed, "Jesus, Reiger! Hit the ball!" with disheartening regularity. Standing in the outfield, I longed to be elsewhere. The time would have been better spent, I thought, taking a walk in the woods, playing Civilization, or reading in the library. My basketball success stories were equally limited, though I did manage to avoid shooting on my own basket, something not everybody on the "3rds team" accomplished (that's right, "3rds," one level under Junior Varsity).

In college, I gave up sports altogether. I didn't watch them and I didn't play them. Visits to the gym, paintball battles, and midnight games of Capture-the-flag were more my speed. (So much so, in fact, that for a time I became the Capture-the-flag coordinator.) How then, did I come to love the NBA and MLB? Honestly, I'm not really sure. One day I just started following the teams and players. Before I knew it I was "in the know."

I believe part of the charm is rooted in the operatic silliness of professional sports: the ugly excess; the show-boating; the ignorance; the intrique. Sports provide a socially acceptable outlet for all of our dirty thoughts and animal rage. There is also something appealing about the routine of sports' schedules. The knowledge that, barring collapse, the baseball stadiums will be crowded and the lights will be turned on is comforting, like regular bowel movements.

I should point out that I never stopped supporting "my" teams, even though I stopped caring for a number of years. When very young I picked a favorite team (or teams) in each of the major American sports leagues. Most people pick teams based on geographic proximity, but I did not care for the Washington Redskins or Bullets. Instead, I chose teams based on team name. Thus, I ended up rooting for the Cincinnati Bengals, Chicago Cubs, Baltimore Orioles, Milwaukee Bucks, and the Minnesota Timberwolves (later, when they were founded in 1989). You might notice the animal theme. Yep...that's how I picked my boys. Either you're an animal or you're against us. (In more recent years, I have opted to support a few teams without animal names. For example, I root for the Mets, the perennial blue-collar underdogs who reside in my borough of New York City.)

Not only do I follow professional basketball and baseball, I also enjoy playing the games. Though I still suck, I enjoy playing basketball a great deal and, were there to be easy access to a baseball diamond and a crew of willing participants, I'm sure I would have a lot of fun taking cuts at a fastball.

Anyway, spring time represents the beginning of the NBA playoffs AND the beginning of a new baseball season. The overlap spoils me. I can spend a Saturday or Sunday in the studio, listening to a NY Mets game on the radio and head to a bar in the evening for a little NBA playoffs action on television. Ah, the simple pleasures...

Photo credit: ripped from BASEketball.com

The Nihilistic Science Guy

“As a child, I would stand with my father on the beach in Delaware and stare at my shadow as the sun went down, watching it get longer and longer, infinitely long. When you understand how many stars are out there, more stars than there are grains of sand on the beach, you can think you’re just a speck orbiting a speck in the middle of specklessness. But there’s another way to look at it, which is that we have brains, and can use them to understand the universe. And I thought then that if I were out in space I could look back and see my shadow, the long shadow of little Bill.”

- Bill Nye, The New Yorker “Talk of the Town” (January 5, 2004)

I grew up two states south of Bill Nye, “The Science Guy,” and I less often considered sand on beaches than water molecules in the ocean, but I did spend many hours contemplating little things, real or imagined, awed by my relative enormity and, in turn, by my relationship to the greater, infinite expanse.

Some professional scientists poo-poo Nye. If pressed, these scientists admit that their disregard is rooted in his popular appeal and his “dumbing down” of science for mass consumption. I prefer to celebrate Nye for the same reasons.

My parents didn’t have a television when I was growing up, but when I visited a neighbor’s house and saw shows like "Sesame Street" or the "Electric Company," I was enthralled. Had “Bill Nye, The Science Guy" been aired when I was young, I'm sure that I would have loved it, and I'm sure that he would have further inflamed my love of science.

Interestingly, underneath Nye’s infectious excitement, he seems complicated. I find myself wondering what he thinks about after the studio lights are turned off. Is he defensively optimistic? Deeply pessimistic? What questions does he ask of himself? Of others? Does he avoid questions of personality or psychology, concentrating instead on that which he can safely externalize?

In the most recent issue of Wired, Nye is featured in "The Science Guy Grows Up," a short, five-question interview. When asked, "Science and comedy seem like strange bedfellows. How do you make serious science funny?," Nye responds:

“How can you make it not funny? Humor is everywhere, in that there’s irony in just about anything a human does. There’s all this PB&J: passion, beauty, and joy. But there’s also the futility of the whole thing. We’re just humans on this dying planet, and it doesn’t much matter what we do. We’re always setting up expectations, whether scientific or otherwise, and failing to meet them. That creates comedic tension. The more you find out about the world, the more opportunities there are to laugh it.”

Underneath all of his infectious excitement, then, Nye is something of a nihilist. Perhaps the lessons of science always reduce the human by presenting us relative to the rest of the mess. Maybe this, in part, contributes to the trend towards scientific specialization over generalism, allowing the scientist to avoid looking at the whole and thereby protecting her from potential crackup.

Photo credit: homepage of Zachary Alex Samuels, Cornell University

Celebrity Campin' With Cameron

This frothy New York Times piece is basically an "advertorial" for Cameron Diaz’s new MTV program, "Trippin." Because I don’t have a cable subscription, I probably won’t ever see the show; I’m actually a little disappointed.

Cameron Diaz’s sex appeal is rooted in her dorkdom. A gangly girl with an overgrown head and a Texas-sized smile, Diaz gets away with more than do other celebrities because she actually seems to be enjoying herself. Many people claim that Diaz, who, at 32, doesn’t hesitate to use words like “frontin’,” is just plain stupid, that ignorance is bliss and Diaz is simply enjoying the ride. I wouldn’t suggest that Diaz comes across as intelligent or even well-informed, but I’m not so sure that she’s your typical ditz. Her it's-all-good-in-the-hood posturing is an affectation. Perhaps her dumb blonde routine is exaggerated, too? With this foray into the world of television production, Diaz may be revealing some depth.

"Trippin," its ridiculous name aside, may get through to that much sought after 18-to-29 year old demographic. Watching DMX on a camping trip with Diaz sounds more campy than compelling, but the rapper-actor's camping foray just might ignite a spark of environmental consciousness in a young, urban DMX fan. As the article puts it,

“If young viewers' appetite for scientific knowledge is limited, Ms. Diaz is betting that their interest in celebrities will draw them to the show and help them [understand] a world beyond the exurbs and XBoxes.”

Perhaps what ultimately makes me willing to give "Trippin" a tentative thumbs-up is Diaz’s fascination with feces.

“In every episode, she dwells on excrement, both for laughs and for edification. She notes, in her Nepal trek, how the copious manure of rhinoceroses restores nutrients to grasslands, how birds disperse seeds through their droppings and how cow dung is used as plaster in village huts.”

Score one for those of us who spend way too much time thinking about basic bodily functions!

If anyone has the time and the means to watch an episode, I would love to hear a report. Fortunately, I will be able to watch another television program mentioned in the same New York Times article. “Strange Days On Planet Earth,” hosted by Edward Norton, the exceptionally talented and intelligent, if egotistical, young actor, deals with some contemporary, environmental hot topics. Fortunately, this program airs on PBS and my television, if I fiddle with the reception, can pick up PBS with reasonable clarity.

Photo credit: AP/Scanpix