The Rules of Physical Spaces

I apologize for the lateness of this post.  I had intended to submit this before class, but now I am glad that I forgot because the discussion actually gave me more to think about and filled some of the holes within my understanding of the text. While discussing Roxanne Mountford's example of the pulpit as both a rhetorical and gendered space, the idea of rules implied by certain spaces was brought up in class.  The idea of children running up the steps of the pulpit was one such example of rules within certain spaces.  Likewise, the disconnect between the seriousness of the site of the World Trade Center and the lightheartedness of tourists taking pictures of themselves highlighted even further this idea of rules within certain spaces.

What I have begun to consider is the likelihood that the rules of rhetorical spaces are never really established until they are broken. Mountford discusses the pulpit as a particularly masculine space; however, I would argue that this was not the case until women started to take their own place in the pulpit.  In fact, I remember growing up around the debate concerning "women in the pulpit" (I used quotation marks because I remember hearing that exact phrase as a child--it was almost always accompanied with heads shaking in disapproval).  This was, of course, a regional debate rooted mainly in a local church which had recently hired a female pastor.  Likewise, I am reminded of the British television show, The Vicar of Dibley, in which a woman is assigned the role of vicar to a small village in England.  However, within both of these examples is the sense that, in taking their position in the pulpit, women are throwing off the larger ideas/institutions that the pulpits are associated with--the ideas and institutions which give the pulpit its rhetorical power.  Thus, the disjointedness of the feminizing of the pulpit lies within the larger power structure of Judeo-Christian beliefs.      

Suplementing the Schemas

In my opinion, Foss's schema and Peterson's schema should be used as supplements for each other.  Foss's schema seems to function best when the critic is already aware of exactly what the object is. For instance, often when we look at an object we already know what it is.  If I am in the Louvre, then I am aware of the objects themselves and what they are; thus, it is easier to jump right to the function when looking at the Mona Lisa rather than spending time determining the predetermined nature of the object.  However, oftentimes we do not know what we are looking at, like waking up in a dark room and finding yourself suddenly unable to remember the objects that now look like shadows.  Thus, it is necessary to switch to Peterson's schema 

Peterson's schema functions nicely if you are unaware of what the object is.  For instance, in our last class when we were given images to apply the schema to, but not any background information, it was too difficult to use Foss' schema.  First, we had to determine the object.  However, this of course leaves more room for the creator's intentions because it would be very easy for the critic to slip into the more obvious question.  What did the artist believe the object was?  Obviously, this can be a very difficult space to enter--especially considering that, for the most part, "the author is dead." 

Likewise, I feel that my analysis of the schema does not quite capture the difficulty of applying them.  Function is an incredibly difficult idea to pin down for any given image.  Especially if you are tied to Peterson's schema which places so much emphasis on the creator's intentions.  Likewise, it is incredibly difficult to scrutinize the function, as Foss does, if you have no context to apply to the image.  For instance, perhaps the function of war time propaganda images was incredibly successful when they were first created, but now they simply do not function or they do not function in the same way.  

D'Angelo and the Divide Between Literary Criticism and Rhetorical Criticism

D'Angelo's article, "The Rhetoric of Intertextuality," is an interesting piece because it highlights a fascinating problem that finds its roots in the divide between literary theory, and rhetorical theory.  Rhetorical studies and literary studies have had a very problematic history together, with rhetoric study scholars finding some difficulty in establishing their programs.  Thus, the entirety of D'Angelo's introduction seems to be an attempt at explaining how the use of the term and concept of "intertexuality" will not further blur a divide which seems to already be blurry.  The use of a literary studies term in order to describe a rhetoric based concept would, necessarily, cause a sense of unease in the academic community. 

D'Angelo states, "there have been few articles connecting rhetoric to intertextuality," the reason being the fact that "the term has been introduced through literary studies" (33).  It would seem that "intertextuality" would have a very obvious place within rhetorical theory, but D'Angelo attributes its absence to the divide between literary studies and rhetoric.  He also addresses the concern "that rhetorical criticism is dissolving into literary criticism or some amorphous form of criticism" (32).  Thus, it can be assumed that the divide between literary studies and rhetorical theory has made any form of helpful cross-pollination very difficult to accomplish. 

D'Angelo goes on to state that "despite their similarities, rhetorical criticism can be distinguished from literary criticism or other modes of criticism by its emphasis on the intended effect of the object of criticism on its readers, and by its emphasis on the interrelationships that exist between the text and its source or the text and its audience" (32).  Thus, D'Angelo has established that the appropriation of the term and concept of "intertextuality" has not threatened the divide between literary studies and rhetoric studies.

Myers' Metanoia and Dualism

Kelly A. Myers' "Metanoia and the Transformation of Opportunity" uses the Metanoia and Kairos relationship as a rhetorical metaphor.  However, I believe that, at times, she takes this metaphor too far.  She claims that "acknowledging the presence of the‘heart’ in metanoia highlights the mind-body partnership at work in the concept" (8).  In other words, in order to partner, the mind and the body must be separate in the first place, resembling the division and partnership of Metanoia and Kairos.  Myers describes two images of Metanoia and Kairos: Girolamo da Capri's Chance and Penitence, and Giorgio Vasari's L'Occasione.  In each of these images, Myers claims that Metanoia and Kairos are merged but also separate, implying collaboration and division.  Myers' emphasis on "the mind-body partnership" causes what she acknowledges as a blurring of the distinctions between "mind, body, emotion, and logic" (17).    However, it is unclear why she makes these divisions.  For instance, why would emotion be separate from the body and logic be separate from the mind?

Myers' also makes a leap that I find problematic. She glosses over the fact that Metanoia most often appears with the female Ocassio and not with the male Kairos(4).  I feel like the gender change is an important issue because it may lend itself to monism rather than dualism.  If the figures are both female, then there is less divsion between the two, leading to the argument that, instead of being separate entities, they are both a part of each other.  For instance, Giorgio Vasari's L'Occasione could be interpreted as a single figure due to the fact that the title only references Ocassio and not Metanoia, causing the audience to infer who the second woman is and to think of her only in terms of Ocassio.     

In addition, Myers' text is very repetitive, and it often seems that she is repeating, unnecesarily, her major claims that "in metanoia, mind and body, feeling and intellect, collaborate in creating new knowledge and perspective" (8).  I know that this may seem like a minor complaint, but it is something that bothered me throughout the reading. 

Higgins, Long, and Flower: Defining Literacy

Higgins, Long, and Flower believe that "literacy should be defined not merely as the receptive skill of reading, but as the public act of writing and taking social action" (9).  Their definition requires a turn from the idea of "cultural and critical literacies" (9); an idea that I found refreshing after reading Jack Goody and Ian Watt's obnoxious article, "The Consequences of Literacy," this past weekend.

I find that when Higgins, Long, and Flower attempt to include both "personal and public inquiry" in their approach, they are tapping into an interesting gap within literacy studies as a whole--the gap between the public and private spheres; in other words, the gap that is not a gap.  Public and private literacy collide constantly, but researchers tend to privilege one over the other; Higgins, Long, and Flower are attempting to reconcile the privileging tendency within most research--a tendency which extends into the division between local and universal literacy (there is, most likely, an actual term for this, but I have no idea what it is).

Ultimately, their goal is to provide a "rhetorical model" which "would guide the development of new practices of collaboration, argument, and problem solving  across hierarchical and diverse publics" (11).  I do, however, find this to be a very optimistic goal.  When discussing the issue of "assessing the rhetorical situation," they also tackle the issue of recognizing subgroups.  Unfortunately, it is not always easy, or even possible to identify those subgroups.  Higgins, Long, and Flower admit to the fact that this is "the rhetorical situation" as the researcher is able to "perceive" it (12).  This issue of researcher perception reminds me of one of the presentations I saw at the SWCA conference:  In a writing center, there are specific perceptions of ESL students, but the ESL students do not always think of themselves in that way.  So, how do you tutor students who you believe are ESL but who do not think of themselves as ESL?  I feel that the same can be applied to this issue of rhetorical situation.  In other words, how do you interact with a subgroup filled with people who do not consider themselves to be a part of that subgroup?

I certainly enjoyed this particular article.  I found the idea of "supporting personal and public transformation through the circulation of alternative texts and practices" to be a laudable goal.  However, since I am only just beginning to read literacy research, I will continue to view this piece with skepticism until I am more informed.  

Gary A. Olson's Ideological Review

I found that Olson's article served as a thorough literature review, providing a practical guide into "the tradition of ideological critique." However, the section which I found most fascinating concerns what he calls "perhaps the most original and substantive contribution to the intellectual work on ideological critique" (86); this is, of course, in reference to Lynn Worsham's theories concerning the role of emotion and "pedagogical violence" (87).  I find it particularly interesting that she is referring to all of pedagogy and not just what occurs in the classroom.  Thus, the pedagogical violence has invaded all aspects of society and does not exist solely within one sphere.  Likewise, it never occurred to me that even the way we feel emotions is dictated by the ideological duo of "family and the educational system, working in tandem," implying that, like Worsham's definition of pedagogy, she is describing an all-encompassing thing rather than something of limited reach (87). 

If this is an adequate representation of Worsham's work concerning pedagogical violence, then I am greatly impressed with her work and will definitely read "Going Postal: Pedagogic Violence and the Schooling of Emotion."  I feel like her work may greatly impact my thesis work--especially the idea that "pedagogy refers to the power to impose meanings that maintain and reinforce the reigning social, economic, and political arrangements as legitimate when in fact they are entirely arbitrary" (87).  I feel like this really describes the complicated situation in Cajun Louisiana where the Cajun population were taught not only to speak English, but also to feel strong emotions of shame and hate for their non-literate first language, Cajun French.

Genre and Practicality

Miller's discussion of genre seems to be rooted firmly in what is practical.  In fact, she claims that "a useful principle of classification for discourse, then, should have some basis in the conventions of rhetorical practice, including the ways actual rhetors and audiences have of comprehending the discourse they use" (152); this is a point that I particularly enjoyed because it would make the use of genre in classrooms far easier.  Also, I respect her awareness of the point at which theory meets use--an awareness that is often forgotten by theorists.  In addition, Miller answers the arguments against genre with a gesture of practicality: "the urge to classify is fundamental, and although it involves the difficulties that Patton and Conley point out, classification is necessary to language and learning" (151).  Thus, she has, in a very simple way, addressed the concerns of language and restriction that would necessarily arise from genre divisions/classifications.

Miller also provides examples as context for her argument; she claims that "inaugurals, eulogies, courtroom speeches, and the like have conventional forms because they arise in situations with similar structures and elements and because rhetors respond in similar ways, having learned from precedent what is appropriate and what effects their actions are likely to have on other people" (152).  And, in order to provide some guidelines for the construction of genres, she gives not only a bulleted list of "features" but also explanations that what would eliminate certain potential categories (163).  Clearly, she has developed a well thought out system for recognizing and establishing genre.  In fact, it is this thoroughness and adherence to practicality that lends itself so well to Devitt, Bawarshi, and Reiff's "Materiality and Genre in the Study of Discourse Communities." However, I still feel hesitant to commit myself to this idea of genre.

My hesitation lies mainly in the idea that there will always be rhetorical spaces that don't exist within/are excluded from a genre.  Also, if a rhetor acknowledges a genre and then intentionally subverts the conventions of that genre, would he still fall within that genre?  I, admittedly, can think of no examples off of the top of my head, but I'm sure that this will come up in class discussion.     

"Remapping" Dark Spaces

I had to read Cheryl Glenn's article for another class as well this week, Archival Research.  So, I have just recently come from a discussion of it from another point of view, the view of an archival researcher.  The problem that we faced with this particular text involved issues of ethos and evidence.  In other words, how do you "remap" a territory that you have only little proof exists.  The same problem occurs when discussing the sophists because we only have a very limited view of their writings.  Therefore, attempting to reclaim classical women like Aspasia or even shadowy male figures like the Sophists is a difficult proposition.  It requires an adjusting of our preconceived notions of rhetoric, allowing us to broaden our definitions and understanding of the areas previously thought to house "monsters" (3).

According to Glenn, "until recently, we could pull a neatly folded history of rhetoric out of our glove compartment, unfold it, and navigate our course through the web of lines that connected the principal centers of rhetoric...we ignored the boarders of our map, the shadowy regions" (3).  However, now there are new territories that exist within the umbrella term of "rhetoric." These new territories have been brought into view by the lack that has become apparent as race, gender, economic status, and even geographical position becomes an issue within the field.  Thus, remapping becomes a transcendent action, encompassing all of the problematic spaces within the field.

For instance, in addition to being able to "regender" rhetoric, we are also able to reconsider the Sophists as Susan Jarratt does in our other reading, "The First Sophists: History and Historiography."  Jarratt discusses the Sophists as "a dark shadow" (1).  Clearly, Glenn pulls a great deal from Jarratt's discussion of rereading the Sophists.      

Audience and Presence

The Foss, Foss, and Trapp text addresses many of the major points within Tyteca's and Perelman's theory.  However, one of the most fascinating sections concerns the idea of presence.  Presence occurs when arguers "focus attention on something" (95).  In other words, "the displaying of certain elements on which the speaker wishes to center attention in order that they may occupy the foreground of the hearer's consciousness" (95).  The idea of focusing the audiences attention on something does remain somewhat problematic though because it is tied to the speaker's perceptions of the audience as well as ethical issues.  For instance, one of the examples given in the text is "Caesar's bloody tunic as brandished by Antony" (95).  This physical object allows Antony to establish presence; however, this is also a famously manipulative moment and Antony's perception of the audience is largely negative (i.e. he is moving the mob to violent action).  The idea of presence is very much in keeping with Tyteca's and Perelman's emphasis the speaker's perception of audience.

They believe that every decision a speaker/arguer makes should be audience centered to the extent of the speaker's conception of the audience.  For instance, the nature of the starting point depends entirely upon the audience's position in regards to the speaker's position, but the speaker can only base his understanding of the audience's position by determining whether he is addressing a universal or a particular audience.  A particular audience would require a more specialized approach on the part of the speaker.  For instance, in a tutoring session with a student who has no knowledge of grammar vocabulary I would find a particular and unique starting point--preferably one that avoids phrases like "transitive verb". However, when addressing a universal audience the starting point is largely dependent upon how the speaker conceives of his audience rather than the actual identity of the audience.  Thus, the universal audience is always a speaker centered construct which raises the question of whether or not it is truly helpful in terms of persuasion.  Likewise, this also raises the question of whether or not the universal audience can stand alone.  For instance, it may seem like an academic journal article is arguing toward a universal audience, but really this would not be the case (as evidenced by issues like vocabulary).

I am willing to admit to the possibility that this may be a matter of what the author/arguer/speaker conceives of as "every reasonable being," but in terms of persuasion this would still be problematic (89).     

Jason the Horse

I mentioned in class today that I heard a Coast to Coast interview with a man who believes that he is the reincarnation of a gelding (a male castrated horse).  I was having a hard time finding the actual audio recording (it is in the Coast to Coast online archive, but I don't have my subscription anymore). However, I did find an article about the interview.  I decided to go ahead and post it so that you can all get a better idea of the situation.  What's fascinating about it is the fact that there are so many things you can say in terms of theory.

I know that your instinct will be to assume that this is just a man living with some form of mental illness, but I honestly do not think that is the case.  Likewise, this isn't a sexual attraction to horses because he claims to be asexual.  I think that this might be an extreme form of anthropomorphizing.  In other words, he has projected so much onto the horse that he has actually become the horse (the barrier is gone).  He has identified with the animal instead of other humans.    

 http://www.examiner.com/article/jason-the-horse-the-soul-of-a-horse-trapped-a-human-body

Burke's Emphasis on Form

Burke's emphasis on form coincides seamlessly with his expansive definition of rhetoric.  According to the Foss, Foss, and Trapp text, "Burke defines rhetoric as 'the use of words by human agents to form attitudes or to induce actions in other humans'" (191).  However, rhetoric is "a subset of a larger category, symbolic action, which includes rhetoric, poetics, science, and philosophy" (191).  However, the subcategories at times seem to cross between each other.  For instance, Foss, Foss, and Trapp claim that in addition to "spoken and written discourse" Burke "includes less traditional forms of discourse" within his definition of rhetoric: "works of art," "nonverbal elements," "education," "social etiquette" etc. (194).  Thus, it is reasonable to accept the possibility that "rhetorical form" can be applied, to a larger degree, across the entire category of symbolic action.  As I was reading the section, I couldn't help but think of poetry.  In fact, the three types of form (conventional, repetitive and progressive) all seem to have connections to poetry.  For instance, a sonnet can be viewed as a conventional form because the reader knows what to expect "prior to encountering" the work (196).  However, this is an obvious connection and is, in fact, mentioned later in the section.

The aspect of Burke's argument concerning form which I found most interesting was the idea that "form and content cannot be separated" (195).  This was a new idea to me because, if rhetoric can be internal (i.e. "the self as audience"), then even our most rambling of dialogues is subject to form (197).  This is made doubly fascinating by the fact that we have actually made a literary form out of stream of consciousness, raising the possibility that this was not the creation of a form but rather another instance of art imitating life. 

The two forms of progression, syllogistic and qualitative, are also a continuance of the idea that form and content cannot be separated.  In the Foss, Foss, and Trapp text, the example of formulaic movies as syllogistic is, perhaps, the most useful. Scream is a movie which follows the syllogistic progression form.  However, it is the content itself which is syllogistic because the nature of the movie is formulaic. From the moment that Sidney Prescott is introduced, the audience knows that she will do two things: survive, and eliminate the villain (at least temporarily); this is its content and its syllogism.  Likewise, the qualitative progression movie plot hinges on shock; the Foss, Foss, and Trapp text uses the example of Hitchcock's Vertigo.  Despite the fact that both movies progress in different ways, the end result is the same--a synthesis of form and content.