Jonathan Orsi

English 431

Nabokov.

Master of Puppets

“Ye airs and winds, ye elves of hills, of brooks of woods alone, of standing lake, and of the night approach ye everyone!” Medea invokes the unseen spirits, she conjures her orchestration, and with her powers she “makes the calm seas rough and makes the rough seas plain, And cover all the sky with clouds and chase them thence again.” With these words, we soar back to Ovid. Entranced and enchanted, with dancing visions we are spellbound. The poetic performance, the spectacle before us, has been composed and conducted with careful wit. Through Ovid the Gods speak, through his characters and stories speak Ovid, singing the soul’s song of metamorphosis. This surrogate storytelling reappears throughout time; it serves the necessary illusion of production. Much as Shakespeare’s theater is not only a stage for his actors but a stage for his own voice. As with our poetic puppeteer Nabokov, we are at witness to literary ventriloquism. We never read Nabokov ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’ as it were, rather we read the vicarious voice of Nabokov, portrayed by, and through his invented puppets. With his masterful arts Nabokov creates characters and worlds, dictating and directing them with tethers, tied tight with poetry.

Nabokov uses literature as a very thin, yet extravagantly woven screen between us the reader, and himself the author. It is on this veil Nabokov conveys his voice and ideas, the projection: an irresistible image of literary prose. The screen though, keeps separate the audience to the true authorial voice, or creator. It is if we are trapped in Plato’s Allegory of the Cave and we are only given shadows of Nabokov’s figure. The term shadow here, should be taken as a grim analogy, for the shadows cast by Nabokov are some of the mot colorful and vivacious yet thrown onto the page.

What is essential to understand, is that though the dialogue and ideas, the entire extent of written material has come from Nabokov’s hand, it is intended to be read and understood from the narrators mouth. Albeit fictitious, and entirely fabricated, the narrator speaking for Nabokov speaks with careful and intentional accents, and varied perceptions. It is almost as if each narrator applies their own filter to Nabokov’s voice, like holding a candle behind a piece of colored glass. To understand the intention or simply to recognition the placement of this glass is paramount.

In many ways, Nabokov’s characters could be considered a medium, especially now, in reference to the mediums between the dead and living. Crossing over however, the voice must pass through subtle distortions. Michael Wood discusses this veiling in is critical series off essays, The Magician’s Doubts stating, “Vladimir Nabokov himself is not going to show up anywhere here: there are only impersonations.(109)” This masking however, should not be considered or confused with any type of weakness, rather it is his greatest strength. It is these mouthpieces, these elaborate characters we are enthralled with. There is some debate on the likeability of characters such as Humbert, Kinbote, and Hugh (a rapist, a narcissist, and a murder respectively) but it is the elegance with which Nabokov manipulates and maneuvers these puppets, that creates and harbors our affinity with them.

Nabokov’s characters even seem to take on the role of authorship as well. With Pale Fire, the John Shade services the role of poet. It is from John Shade’s dreary and macabre life that the poem Pale Fire flowers. The invented character has been granted life by the creator. Life breathed into him by means of flowing language John Shade is created as he is, as he has been. Like a Bukowski poem Shade is, “Born like this, into this.” The characters are created, given life, but they: their history and personage are entirely controlled. Deplorable behavior and all, Nabokov’s characters are entirely intentional and entirely at bay to Nabokov’s direction. In his book, The Magician’s Doubts, Michael Wood expands upon this, invoking Socrates when he speaks to Phaedrus,

Writing you know, has this strange quality about it, which makes it really like painting: the painter’s products stand before us quite as though they were alive; but if you question them, they maintain a solemn silence. So, too, with written words: you might think they spoke as though they made sense, but if you ask them anything about what they are saying, if you wish and explanation, they go on telling you the same thing over and over forever.

Wood, through Socrates is enunciating this idea that, though the characters take and lead their own directional lives, they are still constrained by and to Nabokov’s artistic vision. Wood also beckons Humbert on this matter when he discusses opening King Lear, finding that, no matter how many time the story is opened, it shall never change, “never shall we find the king banging his tankard in high revelry.” As much as Shakespeare and Nabokov give freedom and life to their invented characters, they are still very much shackled or strung to the authors will.

Nabokov though, doesn’t simply cast his figure in colorful shades of shadow; he sheds authorship onto his them. With Pale Fire, we are handed a poet and commentator and we clearly see the discussion of these relationships flowing throughout the text. With deeper inquiry however, we see that it is this displacement of authorship, these fabricated voices, these viceroys of literature, who not only flow through the text, but carry the entire burden.

In the novel Lolita however, we often forget or disassociate Humbert with authorial voice. So entrapped are we with powerful prose and a seductive story we lose sight and recognition that this text is Humbert’s dairy-rewritten- from memory, in a jail cell no less! Humbert has succeeded in seducing our sense, as if in a form of literary Stockholm Syndrome, have become endeared to our captor. We hang on every word, invest trust in the text, and begin to pity the pederast.

With belief established in the manuscript, we again, are audience to another production, this time with Humbert conducting. As the text is meant to be understood as a recount of events, we recognize Humbert as the storyteller. He uses lofty language, humor, alliteration, poetry, pity, a whole plethora of devices to enchant the reader. The chase scenes, love scenes, even murder scenes have all been orchestrated by Humbert to romanticize and elevate himself out of despise.

Humbert employs as cast of characters to carry his story. Lolita, Charlotte, Quilty the elusive yet omnipresent Audrey McFate, even Gordon, the described “haggard masturbator” perform in Humbert’s production. This notion of director/puppeteer is glanced at by Humbert himself on page 57 of Lolita, the preamble for the infamous davenport scene.

Main character: Humbert the Hummer. Time: Sunday morning in June. Place: Sunlit living room. Props: old, candy-stripped davenport, magazines, phonograph, Mexican knickknacks (the late Mr. Harold E. Haze-God bless the good man—had engendered my darling at the siesta hour in a blue-washed room, on a honeymoon trip to Vera Cruz, and Mementoes, among these Dolores, were all over the place).

While this may be more of an example of Humbert’s humor, or creative wit, it shed’s an introspective light to the “reality” of the text.

The above-mentioned “reality” may be better suited with one or two more scratches of quotation. Frame outward: here is where the trick occurs. The moment we connect with, or accept Humbert, we have been subject to Nabokov’s slight of hand. Duped in the old double take. If Humbert’s manuscriptal-mirage has fooled us, then Nabokov has done it twice over. What we are witness to is a literary ventriloquism, or as Michael Wood tags it, “a verbal vaudeville, a series of literary impersonations performed by the author.” It is almost as if Nabokov has reincarnated himself into his text, appearing as panting pedophile.

This authorial self-imposition, mirrors and re-mirrors itself from Shakespeare’s final play, The Tempest. Nabokov can be seen as Prospero, “by his art…put[ting] the wild waters in this roar. (1.2.1-2)” Like Prospero, Nabokov manipulates his characters with seductive style. The characters are given the illusion of independence, but are all the while at bay to the tempest’s will. Though Nabokov never fully articulates this relationship, Prospero unveils himself, exposing the wires of control, “You demi-puppets that by moonshine do the green sour ringlets make…weak masters though ye be, I have bedimmed the noontide sun, called forth the mutinous wind, and twixt the green sea and the azured vault set roaring war. (5.1.36-47)”

If another mirror is set in place however, we may be more attuned to say that Humbert would make a better Prospero. Certainly when we remind ourselves -as we have done earlier -that the text of Lolita is Humbert’s creation, and recognize the characters therein are subject to his potent art. The preference of Humbert to Prospero especially highlighted when it is considered that both Prospero and Humbert are visible and present throughout text. Though they create the world in which they live, both Prospero and Humbert are still very much characters. Living on, in an even further reflected sky however, fly the real conductors.

If we follow the marionette strings, upward, ascending off the page and out of the text, we see the true puppeteer. The stage becomes visible, the characters drawn back to the page. Exposed, but never reduced. The performance is instead disbanded, as Prospero decrees:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air. And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made of.(4.1.148-158)

We may be freed from the story itself, but we shall never be freed from the Nabokov’s enchantment. The moment we enter his world of texts, the moment we are witness to his performances, we become entwined. Never shall we become detached, never will the strings split for fray, instead we will forever remain suspended in disbelief and awe in poetic pageantry that is Nabokov’s work.

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked,
I cried to dream again.
The Tempest 3.2.148-156

Works Cited

Wood, Michael. The Magician's Doubts. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995.

Shakespeare, William and David Bevington. The Tempest. New York: Bantam Books, 1988.

paper (whole)

I am posting this with some what bitter sweet feelings.
I had written the entire paper, specifically the second half and saved it on a flash drive, i was supposed to have that flash drive returned to me this weekend, but i should have expected this-as everything this week it seems to be a bust. So i've spent the last few hours rewriting (Humbert Humbert style -from memory- in the jail cell of my library desk job) the second half to my paper. In Nabokovian fashion i feel this to be my "the original of Laura" in that it is not edited, not what i really wanted to say, rather it should be burned than ever published. But alas, i needed to do it, its done, so i reluctantly post with tepid relief:

Note: for what ever reason, when copying and pasting some sort of problem occurs, so there may be italics missing or...something, i don't know why blogger can't handle the cut and past function, but it should be all there.

final thoughts. this was ecstacy

As the semester comes to a close, I feel I must take a note from James and thank everybody. I can honestly say that this has been one of if not the best class I have ever had. I mean this in part due to the material, but mostly due to the classmates and the instructor. I feel the same way reading classmates blogs as I do reading Nabokov’s work, It is impossible to reference any one blog or anyone fragment. I because I would never find a proper place to stop, I would simply have to rewrite them all. Even giving “props” to any of my classmates would essentially result in me writing the class list. So to you all: thank you, this was not simply a class, this was a temple.

When I first heard that the class was focusing on Nabokov instead of Wallace Steven, I believe I was a little worried. Russian writers conjure images of cold, sterile, dry writing. Little did I know the ecstasy that awaited me.

I liken this experience; my Nabokov to Humberts Lolita.

“and then, without the least warning, a blue sea-wave swelled under my heart and, from a mat in a pool of sun, half-naked, kneeling turning about on her knees, there was my Rivera love peering at me over dark glasses.”

My paper (a fragment)

I am still waiting on a flash drive to be returned to me which has the better half of my paper on it. All i am left with at present time (with approx 40 minutes to post) is what is saved on my roommates computer, but here is it, or some of it. and I will put the tail of it on hopefully later tonight

Jonathan Orsi

English 431

Nabokov.

Master of Puppets

“Ye airs and winds, ye elves of hills, of brooks of woods alone, of standing lake, and of the night approach ye everyone!” Medea invokes the unseen spirits, she conjures her orchestration, and with her powers she “makes the calm seas rough and makes the rough seas plain, And cover all the sky with clouds and chase them thence again.” With these words, we soar back to Ovid. Entranced and enchanted, with dancing visions we are spellbound. The poetic performance, the spectacle before us, has been composed and conducted with careful wit. Through Ovid the Gods speak, through his characters and stories speak Ovid, singing the soul’s song of metamorphosis. This surrogate storytelling reappears throughout time; it serves the necessary illusion of production. Much as Shakespeare’s theater is not only a stage for his actors but a stage for his own voice. As with our poetic puppeteer Nabokov, we are at witness to literary ventriloquism. We never read Nabokov ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’ as it were, rather we read the vicarious voice of Nabokov, portrayed by, and through his invented puppets. With his masterful arts Nabokov creates characters and worlds, dictating and directing them with tethers, tied tight with poetry.

Nabokov uses literature as a very thin, yet extravagantly woven screen between us the reader, and himself the author. It is on this veil Nabokov conveys his voice and ideas, the projection: an irresistible image of literary prose. The screen though, keeps separate the audience to the truth authorial voice, or creator. It is if we are trapped in Plato’s Allegory of the Cave and we are only given shadows of Nabokov’s figure. The term shadow here, should be taken as a grim analogy, for the shadows cast by Nabokov are some of the mot colorful and vivacious yet cast on the page.

What is essential to understand, is that though the dialogue and ideas, the entire extent of written material has come from Nabokov’s hand, it is intended to be read and understood from the narrators mouth. Albeit fictitious, and entirely fabricated, the narrator speaking for Nabokov speaks with careful and intentional accents, and varied perceptions. It is almost as if each narrator applies their own filter to Nabokov’s voice, like holding a candle behind a piece of colored glass. To understand the intention or simply to recognition the placement of this glass is paramount.

In many ways, Nabokov’s characters could be considered a medium, especially now, in reference to the mediums between the dead and living. Crossing over however, the voice must pass through subtle distortions. Michael Wood discusses this veiling in is critical series off essays, The Magician’s Doubts stating, “Vladimir Nabokov himself is not going to show up anywhere here: there are only impersonations.(109)” This masking however, should not be considered or confused with any type of weakness, rather it is his greatest strength. It is these mouthpieces, these elaborate characters we are enthralled with. There is some debate on the likeability of characters such as Humbert, Kinbote, and Hugh (a rapist, a narcissist, and a murder respectively) but it is the elegance with which Nabokov manipulates and maneuvers these puppets, that creates and harbors our affinity with them.

Nabokov’s characters even seem to take on the role of authorship as well. With Pale Fire, the John Shade services the role of poet. It is from John Shade’s dreary and macabre life that the poem Pale Fire flowers. The invented character has been granted life by the creator. Life breathed into him by means of flowing language John Shade is created as he is, as he has been. Like a Bukowski poem Shade is, “Born like this, into this.” The characters are created, given life, but they: their history and personage are entirely controlled. Deplorable behavior and all, Nabokov’s characters are entirely intentional and entirely at bay to Nabokov’s direction. In his book, The Magician’s Doubts, Michael Wood expands upon this, invoking Socrates when he speaks to Phaedrus,

Writing you know, has this strange quality about it, which makes it really like painting: the painter’s products stand before us quite as though they were alive; but if you question them, they maintain a solemn silence. So, too, with written words: you might think they spoke as though they made sense, but if you ask them anything about what they are saying, if you wish and explanation, they go on telling you the same thing over and over forever.

Wood, through Socrates is enunciating this idea that, though the characters take and lead their own directional lives, they are still constrained by and to Nabokov’s artistic vision. Wood also beckons Humbert on this matter when he discusses opening King Lear, finding that, no matter how many time the story is opened, it shall never change, “never shall we find the king banging his tankard in high revelry.” As much as Shakespeare and Nabokov give freedom and life to their invented characters, they are still very much shackled or strung to the authors will.

Nabokov though, doesn’t simply cast his figure in colorful shades of shadow; he sheds authorship onto his them.

my presentation

This is not entirely necessary, because you have all already heard it, but i will post my script for the presentation, because -though i could never reach the true from- i had tried to impersonate Dr. Sexson in manner, and in summarizing my paper, which may be a better explanation, or a distillation of what i said in long winded form. anyway here it is.

This is the spring of 2011, I am already far underway teaching my capstone class for the semester. Some of you I see are in that class as well. Hands please? In which we are reading such books as Joyce’s Ullysess, we have just fnished the bahgvadgita! And we are primarily dealing with text that relate to this notion of the epiphany. That is to say Light bulbs!

Anyway I came here today to talk to you about a class I taught last year on the author Vladimir Nabokov. And this one student of mine Jon Orsi, not a particularly bright student but I granted him an A for the course Non the less. In fact I believe everyone in the class was awarded an A. You can hold me to that.

Well Jon wrote his final paper, and he was unfortunately unable to be here to present it. So I will fill in to summarize. His paper was entitled Master of Puppets, it dealt primarily with the idea of Nabokov as a sort of puppeteer. Creating the illusion of these fictitious authors all while tending the strings. Putting on a production to which we are witness. Which is essentially to say a discussion of authorial voice. He never got quite down to saying this but think I can safely say this is what he was getting at.

He likeness this to the notion of Plato’s allegory of the cave, that we the audience never see Nabokov himself clearly, instead as a shadow cast upon the wall. Shadow however, he claims is a dreary analogy, rather the gauze that separates the author and audience, is a rich and intricate tapestry. And it is the beauty and delicacy of this gauze that elevates Nabokov to such great heights. In fact I have always said that Nabokov offers more pleaser per square inch than any other writer.

Jon also likens Nabokov to Shakespeare’s Prospero. A character in his final play the Tempest. Prospero uses his powers (which are books) to sort of conduct and orchestrate a series of events, using other characters a sort of his actors or. Puppets? And this has widely been taken as a metaphor for Shakespeare himself.

Jon then argues maybe a better comparison would be Nabokov to Shakespeare, and characters such as Humbert Humbert to be his Prospero, because as we know ‘Lolita’ is Humberts diary. And we never can fully trust if Humerts characters are…what? Real! Or made up! Or if he is using them, manipulating them for his own means.

Anyway a very interesting paper, calling to question the productions that are Nabokov’s novels, what we are reading is sort of a puppet show put on with careful detail and extraordinary style. These fictitious Narrators perform as literary ventriloquism that add many layers of depth and complexity to what is extraordinarily beautiful writing.

a visual

(click to see larger view) try and check out the names and everything its some wild information.

I didn't really have time to explain my last blog and I don't really now, but i just thought of this Artist who is actually a friend of mine's uncle, who took money transactions between, governments, banks, organized crime syndicates, corporations and created these pieces of art with said information. here is a wiki link to him. Mark Lombardi I realize this doesn't really have to do with class, but i just thought this was an interesting image/ person. And now that its the end of the year, for any of my classmates who would even be reading this, i figure I'd give you something more on the entertainment side of things than the educational.
Note: one of this is actually on display at the MoMA
Now if only i had the time do do this with a copy of Lolita.

quick notes on Christina's & Riley's

I am at work right now so I don't really have time to expand on this idea, but hearing/ reading Riley's as well as Christina's I've been thinking a lot about this web of interconectivity within Nabokov's writing. Riley said that he had to punch out his cards -something i was overly cautious not to do with my library copy (library copy should be laminated)- but the idea, or the spatial recognition of having the cards spread out in front of you is really appealing to me. This would be an enormous project for the entire work of something like Lolita, but to see the entire script as an image, a piece of art, possibly with the silks of web spread and tied throughout the text would be, if at all possible one of the coolest things for this class (future MoMA exhibit)
Again, i wish i had time to articulate this point/idea more and give it some elan of it's own but I am just working with the raw idea that Nabokovs work is limited almost when we are given it in the "linear" fashion to which print is confined, we must in turn think and feel out the works. (which we have no problem doing) but to see this confinement broken would be beautiful. As Christina puts it in her paper, "Unlike ordinary writers, however, who may use words to illustrate concepts in a linear fashion (from word to idea), Nabokov manipulates words in a very different way, making them come alive through their varied interactions with one another."
I enthusiastically agree here, but my point is that in the novel form, we are quite literally restrained to the linear form, i just want to see what the image of it would be spatially... this sounds crazy i know, i suppose i don't really know what i'm talking about anymore, i think this semester has cracked me, but just picture it, maybe even try it. push out the note cards in your copy of The Original of Laura. tear the pages out of an old copy of Pale Fire
and Draw a 'web of sense' throughout. see what it looks like.

trasparent butterlfy

...annnd 21 blogs done. (just joking, i just thought this was a wicked cool picture. thought i'd throw it you guys)

things that are transparent

It now seems sort of redundant to talk about Transparent Things since it has passed, but we really did not seem to have enough, nor any time to discuss the work. The little time we did spend though, was beyond helpful in understanding the story especially when it came to narration/ authorial voice. Reading it after we discussed it, i felt spoiled and privileged because i could see and understand the idea -i suppose- behind it. The narrator(s). I am somewhat saddened by this, I wish I had been on top of it, read it before we talked about it, and discovered what was waiting for me through my own reading. But...as much as I'd like to say I am completely self confident, I am not entirely sure that i would have been capable of fully understanding the story were it not for Sexson/class/the blogs. And i realize how gracious i am of these things. that being said, with the aid of the teacher and fellow classmates: I loved Transparent Things and i got it! I feel i really understood and followed what and who was going on throughout the story. Although i did read the story twice on my own, having the class discussions prefacing the book served almost like pre-reading for me. again i realized how spoiled this made me, but that was simple the way the cards fell, and i appreciated the help.
Therefore, here are some commonplace notes i took while reading. I wrote them down either for my enjoyment of them on an aesthetic level -which most ever line is subject to- as well as their connection to the inevitable conclusion/ acknowledgment of omniscient narrator(s)

"Your ripped open the upper margin of the envelope. You added the beige dust it contained to the ruthlessly homogenized milk in your cup. You took a sip-and hurried to add sugar. But no sugar could improve the insipid, sad, dishonest taste." page 520

"The charm of the past Tense lay in its secrecy. Knowing Julia, he was quite sure she would not have told a chance friend about their affair-one sip among dozens of swallows." 520-521

"In fact at puberty sexual desire arises as a substitute for the desire to kill, which one normally fulfills in one's dreams." 531

"Did he ever by her a turtleneck sweater? No answer. Was he annoyed when she found it too tight at the throat?" 531.

Tha Groupz.

Earlier this evening I found myself amidst a heated argument with my friends. As usual, this flowered seemingly from nothing, more or less for the sake of arguing. We went from debating the practicality and merit of Ayn Rand's philosophy to the question of quality in print media in comparison to other forms. This evolved -as directionless debates often do- into the question of defining quality itself.( i have more to say about this but i digress from my topic).
In discussing the contrast of information mediums and their effectiveness, my mind left the conversation and started to think about the group presentations of last Tuesday and of the effectiveness of those presentations.
While all the groups shared a common interest, and the same subject matter. They all found their own path or direction as a means of conveying information. (The ideas i have about this are somewhat abstract and I fear that my language might sound contrived but bare with me because I don't really know how to put this) but i started to think that the question of quality focusing or categorizing by the medium is improper. It is not the medium that posses varied quality. The quality or type of medium does not determines it's effectiveness. rather the inverse, the effectiveness of said medium determines quality (if that is determinable).
This may seem really pointless to delve into but, at least for me this is significant, I continue: Whether the artist is given, clay, marble, canvas or a pen and paper should not and does not assign any level of quality or effectiveness, it is the thing the artist does with his tools that can be judged (I think everyone can agree with this simplification. this is essentially what my point is just reduced)
But on to the groups:
group 4. The use of Film as a medium. The image, and more importantly the idea of using a chess match speaks endlessly and tirelessly. It was this image of the game, the complexities of the game that make it so profound. The "castling" play that was delved into, is a perfect example of these ever appearing rabbit holes that Nabokov attuned our eyes to. The pun of such a thing is far more than a play on words as we have seen, but rather, another door of perception we have found.
Stylistically group four's film shows how it's chosen medium excels. The passing of time/ the expression of deep thought played out in a simple gesture of smoking cigarettes. the seemingly magical movement of the chess pieces, is an example of cinematic prowess that enunciates this groups quality in their chosen form. Anyways this was unbelievably good (as were they all) but good most importantly in a unique and powerful way-this again applies to all the groups
Group 5.
The medium of poetics. I again was awed at how (for lack of a better word) good this group was and how capable everyone in class is of expressing these crazy levels of quality and mass levels of knowledge representable in a 20 minute presentation. The use of the written word (performed orally) is as we have seen/read/heard incredibly concentrated and purified. The very fact that the group used names as inspiration, and the writings/bloggings of those names for their material, and beyond that as Chelsae (Kinbote) used the writing of Roberts Shade is evidence of this fractal-ed flower that this class has seemed to sprout. The voice it gives to characters or themes that have a limited* voice in their original is just crazy. *I don't mean to say that Nabokov's characters are in anyway limited, but they are limited to what is written, Micheal Wood discusses this and even calls on Humbert to explain. As he puts it best in his novel The Magician's Doubts, "Humbert points for example to what seems to be the rigidity of the textual characters, their hopeless inability to change their tune: 'No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear', never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion, with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear.'"
But the works of Jessica's Lolita and the whole group's character continuation give life out of salted earth.
Group 5. An array of mediums, but for me it was the medium of action. Live theater so to speak. As the old adage sates: actions speak louder than words. (this even had both, and Disney!) But the use of physical action speak so loudly and so poignantly, i feel that some of most significant moments were moments of silence. One of these moments was namely the scene in which the wolf and Humbert stare quietly at the group of children. Creepy needless to say but so much more than that as well, especially when the character of Frankenstein appeared we didn't need an explanation (though it did help) that this was a moment, one of the most shattering in the book, that is Humbert's self realization. The entire production spoke loudly as well, and the incorporation of song/dance is even another endless topic or point of power. The allusion to fairy tale is again a Major and Hugely effective and productive means and medium. On a side note to this groups imagery, I found Zach's dress and presentation of Little Red Riding Hood a shocking and suspicious relation to MT's own Una-bomber see here.

anyway. Hand's down amazing all of them. and all for their own reasons and merits. The idea that one type or form effects quality is clearly out the window. I was amazed and am still trying to get my mind around this idea of fruition through different artistic directions, but the proof is in the pudding.

-back to my side note earlier about the question of Quality. I read (or tried to read) Robert Pirsig'sZen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, meaning I read it but I did not really understand it. But the idea that this book focuses on, is the question of defining quality and whether or not that is even a possible task to accomplish. He started this train of thought hear at MSU and it took him so far into himself that he had to be hospitalized and undergo shock therapy none the less. This just got me thinking about this class and about the focus and attention we all have had on thoughts and ideas stemming from Nabokov's work, And I say this not as though i'm worried anybody will go crazy or that we should cease from exploration rather it is just interesting to me that when a person commits himself to the pursuit of knowledge when he travels inwardly to the point of outward infinity he is deemed crazy. Now i dont know enough to really challange the pyshcological community and i don't really doubt that Pirsig went crazy but it just seems to me that the ventured into a realm of pure conciousness that i suppose was too powerful. And i don't really know if that is a bad thing. as Leary put it"You have to be out of your mind to use your head". I am getting off topic hear, but i guess I'm just trying to say that I'm grateful or this class because we've been shown power of the mind and the capabilities that it has, stemming from simplest of things. It is this notion that we started with, that all the groups employed that we can take a single image, or a single line of prose, a gesture of some kind, a photograph for example* and from this no matter how simple, conjure an entirety