of late i've been doing a lot more reading-watching, all of which was made possible by my new-found and much-loved job at onehunga community library. here are some of my favourites:

black like me ~ set in the 50s, this is the journal of john griffin, a white man who turns his skin temporarilly black so that he can travel in the southern states of the US as a "negro". with a very engaging writing style, he brings home the horror of what it meant to be a black person in a white dominated world. interestingly, he also documents the irony of how he feels almost completely alienated from his 'white' self while in his black skin, while not adressing the questions that raises. a fascinating read, and one that raises questions not just about race issues, but even about our own identities and how that is linked to the visual images we have of ourselves and our world. the title is taken from a langston hughes poem.

embroideries ~ from marjane satrapi, authour of persepolis, this graphic novel is a

lot more personal, reducing the volume of the politics from the loud protests of persepolis to a low background (but definitely there) hum. a quieter tale/tell all around, it is 'women talking', in an iranian context. while i loved persepolis 1 and 2, i must say i like this better somehow, maybe because there are more perspectives available, only one of which is (obviously) the authour's. the artwork is also much less dramatic, and seems more focused on facial expressions than the icon-ish images (i loved) in persepolis. the (general) direction of the discussion: bastard men.

ten canoes ~ if you do watch this, be prepared for a pace of story telling that is

more 'grandfather around the fire' than 'bourne identity'. it is a story within a story, set in australia before white people came. i loved the story telling style in this- unhurried, but not lazy or uncertain. it also subtly seems to defy our (science inflicted?) need to differentiate real from not real, while at the same time illustrating the dangers of acting on an incomplete understanding of the facts. this is also the first time i have seen on-screen nudity without any sexual undertones.

the cave of the yellow dog ~ set in mongolia, this is another quiet story, about a little girl who finds a dog and wants to keep it, but who is not allowed to. shot in documentary style, the camera is quite unobtrusive, and manages to pull the whole story through without any obvious acting. while i have an affection for visuals of the mongolian landscape, this movie uses the landscape without it degenerating into a tourism department advert. all of it seems 'authentic' somehow, though honestly, i have little basis for comparison. but authentic or not, this is a well told story, again in no blockbuster style, but with a lot of warmth and some quiet humour.

protest graffiti mexico: oaxaca~ this book is a collection of the graffiti on the walls that accompanied the protests in oxaca, mexico, against the government of ulises ruiz ortiz. the protests started from the regular ritual of teacher's protests, but grew into something bigger. there is no deliberate distinction drawn between 'art' graffiti and 'tagging', and seems to function as a record of how people felt/feel. a lot of the work was done by street artist group arte jaguar. there are timelines and essays to give the context of the protests, though the images are (mostly) left open to interpretation. 

i guess one of the things that ties all of these together for me is, to steal a title, the 'ways of seeing' each of these represent. at a time when the capitalists, the socialists and the religious are constantly telling us how we are all 'essentially the same', it is fascinating to see so many different perspectives, from so many different points in time. i cannot but cheer for wade davis' eloquent plea for a 'cultural diversity' that is as important as an ecological one.interestingly, 'authenticity' and 'identity' are also a questions that have dogged all of these works.

i'll leave you to draw your own connections though!

journeys

            “Heta tangin...saw saw a lang

             Sawta tangin...hei hi a lang”

   - Early Zo poem

Translated, “From here...that can be seen. From there...this can be seen”.

Story of my life.

Some of my earliest memories of Shillong involve wanting to come to New Zealand. I do not know why, as this was in the days before we had a TV, and definitely much much before we had the Internet. I knew little of Maori, and even less about the stunning landscape. One association I made with New Zealand was the tins that Apu had, that used to hold milk powder, but now held sugar, bought monthly in 5 kg bags from the Army rations stores. Turned out that these were from Australia. Over the years, bits and pieces I heard about this land fascinated me, from the news piece about bungy jumping, or watching the Maori haka, even finding out that Sir Ed Hillary was from here. In the years I lived with Apu, he spoke once or twice about wanting to go to New Zealand. Then there was the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior in Auckland, and the subsequent banning of all nuclear armed/powered vessels from New Zealand waters.

Interestingly enough, it was that last one that brought us here. When talk of studying/seeing the world came up, I had suggested Aotearoa New Zealand, but Dee thought it too far from home and family. One day though she saw a documentary on the banning of nuclear armed/powered vessels, and came home and told me we would be moving to Aotearoa New Zealand after all.

And what an adventure of the mind this has been. Scraping a little under the surface of Maori art, I’ve got more insight into my own tribal culture(s) than I’d have thought possible. I’ve been introduced to the whole world of Visual Culture, and think I may have finally found something that can keep me interested long enough to be able to get a degree in it. I’m dreaming of a chance to study the Visual Cultures of North East India in detail, particularly the Zo puan.

The fantastic libraries and the work with the RDA and a Special School have thrown up questions of access I had never thought of before. While I may not be able to contribute brilliantly to the world, surely I can help by helping provide access for people who might? I think back of the chap from Bihar who built a pirate radio station. He was obviously much smarter than the bureaucrats who shut him down. What could better access do to those of us impaired by a disabling society? I dream now of starting, not so much a library, but something that does what a library does- provide access.

The Lord of the Rings connections here are leading me down the trails of Myth and the creation of myths. First there was Tolkien and his Middle-Earth, created on the basis of Old English and Norse myths. Then were the movies based on the Lord of the Rings that have become as famous as the books, if not more. And now is another extension of that mythology being created- movie set tourism. Tourists are not visiting Matamata, they are visiting Hobitton. Not the Rangitata valley (Maori), or even Mount Sunday (European), but Edoras. And I cannot help but wonder: What myths have we lost? What myths are we creating?

And so it is, this far from home, that is what I see clearer. Just as this is what I saw when I was there.

Heta tangin...saw saw a lang

Sawta tanging...hei hi a lang