#recursivity

Reminiscence, so long as it has the recursivity of false memories, is very much a condition of the present.

he role of the Consumer Eng-228-001

Brendan Speers Feb 28th 2013

Recursivity is a key component to post-modern art, and the understanding of its goal and intentions. A common idea throughout the past 50 years has been the idea of art being a mirror not to life, but to art itself. Post-modernism, if one was to condense an entire movement that is still present and changing to one term, is about self observation. In its purest form, post-modernism is all about being aware of the patterns of thoughts and movement of ideas that influence who and what we are. A key element of this is self-awareness, either through reflection and a sort of romantic ideology of examination, or through the more pop-culture use of the art being aware that it is art. This idea has been firmly entrenched in the pop cultural landscape for decades, and has reached the point of cliche amongst certain circles. The idea itself is less about simply making 'breaking the fourth wall' jokes, and more about being aware of what art is, and the limitations one places upon it.

This self-reflection is what defines the pop-art world from Warhol on up. Art has become obsessed with defining itself, and the most common way of doing this is by diving head first into the artwork itself. Only by careful observation can something be understood, and art is no different. In order to know both the limits and the possible expansive concepts of art one must observe it, and the best tools available to the artist is the art itself. By using the art as a measuring stick against itself, it allows a proper context to be created in the universe the art exists within. This sets the boundaries of understanding the medium, as it helps eliminate the noise from the signal. Once these boundaries are established, it allows the eye to go where it might otherwise not. Post-modern art controls the framing of itself, and uses what is not there as much as it does what is. By showing a lot of information, but leaving holes within the core of the experience, the viewer is drawn into looking at these holes. Thus these gaps become of vital importance, and in some cases, the key to both understanding the art as well as expanding upon the medium.

Foucault's central argument in QQQ is all about this. The main thrust is an examination of seeing the unseen, of looking into what is normally ignored. The whole goal of the article is to look into the gap where the artist failed to fill in information by inferring all the data surrounding it. By gazing into where the individual characters are sending their gaze, and by positioning the focal point using the hints given in the landscape of the room, one can determine what it is they are looking at. Foucault argues that the gaze is locked upon the part of the kingship, that all work stops upon his appearance. This is all inferred, none of it is explicit in the work. The meaning is conveyed by the semiotics of the work, by the placement of characters and eye lines. The mirror is key to this, as it shows a blurry, half formed image of what the characters are looking at. It directs the viewers eye to where information is not, therefore forcing the consumer to fill in the lacking data themselves. The King is there, and everything is centred upon his personage, despite the fact that he is not actually there in the artwork.

Foucault uses this as a jumping off point to his greater argument, about reading the signs hidden in a work and not just the explicit content of it. In this painting, and this can be extrapolated into all art, the weight of the content lies within what is not said as much as what is. The base assumptions, beliefs, and thoughts of the artist lies in every dab of paint or word used. The slightest hint of movement carries great meaning. The single glance of a character in a painting helps carry both the intended and the unintended message of the work. As in all art, the key is to finding the focus of the artwork, to find where the King is standing. This is key to understanding both art as a greater concept, and the semiotic school of analysis as a whole. Aside from the sociological arguments made regarding ruler ship and the distortion this role plays in the lives of these characters, that is the true thrust of his argument.

It is a fundamental shift in the understanding of art, as the viewer or consumer no longer becomes a passive player in the experience, but rather an active agent in both understanding and appreciating the work. It places greater weight on the consumer to understand the art, rather than the artist to make the consumer understand. It is an important shift, one that was lead by the surrealists and the Dada movement from the years before. They eschewed inherent meaning in the work, but within their attempts laid bare more implicit meanings. This is the great achievement of the artists of the 20th century, the creation of the art as a medium of exchange. Information is sent by the artist in the form of the art, and has to be decoded and understood by the consumer. The art itself has no real meaning, only what is inferred. The art is a coded message, where the cipher is designed and implemented by the one viewing the art. This understanding is possibly the most important distinction in Foucault's argument. The weight of understanding, the role of the consumer and the critic.

She sighed and took her tea from the microwave, sipping it carefully. He was a whole new mystery to figure out. Rose shook her head and left the galley, heading down the hall to the main cabin. She gave her mother a weak smile, and then her eyes drifted to the couch. Her heart leapt to her throat. There he was, long limbs curled on the cushions, a blanket tangled around his skinny frame. His face was slack, but his brows were drawn together in a slight frown. She couldn’t help herself; she sat down on the edge of the couch and reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead. For just a moment, his features softened, and she smiled. Her heart shouted out, This is him! and she found herself believing it. Her hand stayed on his temple, and she worried about waking him, but the way he slept told her he wouldn’t. This was a post-regeneration sleep. He wouldn’t wake for a while. She was fine with that. It gave her time to think.

~*~*~

The zeppelin set down a few hours later outside the Tyler mansion. Rose jolted awake when the engines stopped, and her mother touched her shoulder and walked over to the gangplank, leaving her to wake the Doctor. She looked over at the man on the sofa. One of his arms hung off the couch, and his legs were thrown over the arm so that he looked bent the wrong way. His mouth hung open slightly, and she found herself smiling. He looked so at ease there. So human.

Her brows drew together. He was human now, or at least half human. Still part Time Lord, she reminded herself. He was still the Doctor. Rose sighed and got out of the chair and stretched, working the stiffness out of her neck before moving to the sofa. She leaned down and touched his shoulder, gently shaking.

“Doctor,” she said quietly. “Doctor, wake up.” Slowly, his brown eyes opened, and when they focused on her face, his mouth spread into a lazy smile.

“Hello,” he slurred, and she grinned down at him, unable to help herself.

“We’re home,” she told him, straightening. “Time to get up.”

He nodded and unfolded his lanky form from the sofa. He stood and stretched, groaning as he popped his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Oi,” he muttered. “That was simply awful.” He looked down at Rose while fixing his suit jacket. “Don’t ever let me sleep on the sofa again.”