Wednesday, June 22, 2011
An Artist Is Never Poor - Spoken Word
First poem/spoken word piece I wrote. Filmed in Brandon's studio just for kicks.
Life, that's flowin' from a pen and a mad
Relivin' the good times, forgettin' the bad
To try to help me grasp all that I was destined to have
A voice, a mind, and life to grow
A choice, a sight, a right to know
To find a girl I'd love to love
To cherish and put no one above
If a picture's worth a thousand words, let me take one stand
And paint the portrait of the artist as a young man
See not many people know that
When I used to write rhymes on notepads
I'd forget to eat dinner every winter the groceries would go bad
I was just a nomad, lonin' and roamin' among
The stars the trees and sky
See it wasn't hard to redefine
The reasons for which I'd gladly leave a part of me behind
I remember my endeavors, putting sentences together:
Those were those worthless lines, fuccin around and making your first words rhyme:
One fish, two fish, Red fish blue fish
Keep true to your innocence like Dr. Seuss did
Back when people actually had a heart; and we'd play games in the streets until after dark
When getting' a paycheck happened every time you passed go and went back to start
It began with being bored and sittin' at home,
Spittin' a poem, to save me from that feelin' of fillin' alone
Wordplay substituted for first dates and birthdays
I'd watch the clock
And let the time whittle and whittle little by little
Ditched my classes and lectures just to scribble a riddle
Like the only purpose in life
Was getting' to business and I had verses to write
I used to write poetry to ask girls to take chances and go with me to high school dances
Shit like she's the apple of my eye
Or tell compare her beauty to a castle in the sky
I used to session with the homies and set the ground rules
When you were finna be rippin a track kiccin' it back spittin' it fast just to sound cool
Now as we get older
I would never trade those beautiful days for cubicle space
And when I'm restin' in piece, I'm guessin' I'll see
That life was what you made of it and perspective is key
How it's livin' to breath, give and receive
To face yourself with regret for all that you didn't achieve
So now I still write rhymes more and more
Cause my parents in a cheesy step-brothers reference told me never to forget my dinosaurs
I said I used to do a lotta shit but I never stopped, I never did
Cause through poetry I could always remain a little kid.
Frozen in time, posted with pride
Grateful for the fact that I've spoken a rhyme
So for the man who mocks me saying I waste my time by saving lines
I should stroll through his nest and put holes in chest while he's sleepin' in school
But I'm hopin a moment opens to show him atonement, for he is a fool
And you can always find me, content with a pen and a pad
Forever now, and forevermore
Cause as a wise man once told me, "An artist is never poor"
Thursday, April 21, 2011
A Day in the Life - Joe Queriapa
The next edit in my 'A Day in the Life' series featuring Joe Queriapa! Enjoy.
A short edit filmed with my VX1 and my T2i. Edited in Final Cut Pro. Inspired by Fred Mortagne's shorts. Expect more to come!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Adaptation (2002): The Critique of a Hollywood Critique
The absurdity of a film about a writer writing the same film serves as a source of humor and a subtle comment on the nature between a film and its script. Adaptation (2002) is a comedy-drama film written by Charlie Kaufman, starring Nicholas Cage as Kaufman himself. Directed by Spike Jonze, the film concerns, as the title suggests, the adaptation of a novel, The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean (played by Meryl Streep), into a Hollywood screenplay. Adaptation tackles the concept of a film about making a film as it documents Kaufman’s frustrating struggle to complete his script in a series of events and flashbacks. The line between the author and his work is ambiguously drawn as elements of Kaufman’s life are mirrored in his script, as well as the film itself; at one point Kaufman bewilderedly states that he has “written [himself] in his own screenplay.” By drawing parallels between Kaufman and own his script, director Jonze provides a hilariously ironic narrative structure that further critiques the conventions of Hollywood screenwriting.
Adaptation’s episodic narrative structure creates these parallels between Kaufman’s screenplay and his life, and thus comments on a relationship between a writer and his script. The film transcends temporal space and interweaves through various time periods, jumping mostly between the present day and the three years in the past in which the events of The Orchid Thief are set. For example, when Kaufman is lying in bed, his voice-over narration reads begins to read a quote from The Orchid Thief, which is finished by Orlean herself; this is used to transition into Orlean’s story three years prior, and a similar transition is used to return to Kaufman’s story. This structuring of the narrative in an order that cuts between Kaufman’s present-day confront with his adaptation piece and Orlean’s story forces audiences to follow Kaufman’s personal journey through his writing process as he interacts with the text. The scenes detailing Susan Orlean’s book that occur “3 Years Ago” in Florida are revealed as Kaufman continues his piece, and thus causes viewers to follow Kaufman’s perspective throughout the film. The order of events serves two functions: first, following the story from a single character’s point of view creates sympathy for the character and drives viewers to become engaged and involved with the movie; secondly it compels audiences to feel the same insanity and frustration that Kaufman faces in writing his screenplay. And by portraying the neurotic, insecure, and desperate Kaufman, Jonze is able to provide a darker side to Hollywood screenwriting.
Perhaps the most obvious critique lies in the fact that most of Kaufman’s difficulties in his task stems from his refusal to give The Orchid Thief the classical “Hollywood treatment.” Because the aforementioned narrative scheme draws parallels between Kaufman and the story, audiences sympathize with his determination to preserve Orlean’s original story and avoid turning his script into a “Hollywood thing.” There is a humorous tone when he mocks “artificially plot-driven” alternatives to the story like “an Orchid heist” or “changing the orchids into poppies and turning it into a movie about drug-running.” Juxtaposing the accounts in The Orchid Thief with Kaufman’s struggle to adapt its story (while avoiding Hollywood clichés) criticizes the movie industry’s standard of formulaic dramatic plots and its reputation for changing and revising novels and scripts. Furthermore, the three-year gap that exists between the two narratives mirrors the separation between Orlean and Kaufman’s adaptation, representing the loss of control writers face when their novels and screenplays undergo major revisions before becoming a feature film. After Orlean remarks that she’s never written a screenplay before, and the producer responds that they “have screenwriters to write the script,” the narrative shifts back to Kaufman’s desperate and almost pathetic plight to do this. Not only does this criticize Hollywood’s butchering process of script revisions, but this also voices concern towards the competency of its writers as illustrated by Kaufman.
The manner in which the narrative structure juxtaposes the two stories also provides another criticism of Hollywood scripts. The linear timeline of the movie constantly jumps all over the place (time), often having flashbacks (earlier scenes that interrupt the chronological development of the story) within flashbacks. For instance, at one point the timeline shifts from present day (Kaufman and his script) to three years prior (Orlean’s writing of The Orchid Thief), to one hundred years prior (the events of The Orchid Thief), back up to two years earlier from present day (Orlean’s New Yorker piece that is to become The Orchid Thief), to six months later (the story of the Orchid Thief himself John Laroche), and finally back to Kaufman in present day. This confusing narrative timeline serves to frustrate viewers as they trace the relevant and irrelevant scenes, which parallels Kaufman’s aggravation in selecting key scenes for his adaptation process and thus sheds light on the maddening process that goes into Hollywood screenplays. Furthermore, the ridiculousness of the non-linear timeline also stands to ridicule the over-dramatized convoluted plots that Hollywood releases – the type of plot Kaufman refuses to “make up.” This extreme episodic construct creates a humorous mocking of the Hollywood stories involving multiple storylines and flashbacks. A similar case is Kaufman’s preposterous concept of writing himself into his script on more than one level:
“We open on Charlie Kaufman. Fat, old, bald, repulsive, sitting in a Hollywood restaurant, across from Valerie Thomas, a lovely, statuesque film executive. Kaufman, trying to get a writing assignment, wanting to impress her, sweats profusely. Fat, bald Kaufman paces furiously in his bedroom. He speaks into his hand held tape recorder, and he says: ‘Charlie Kaufman. Fat, bald, repulsive, old, sits at a Hollywood restaurant with Valerie Thomas.’"
This portion of the film involving Kaufman’s script, which in turn involves Kaufman himself writing the exact same script, serves to create humorous Russian doll sequence that exploits the unrealistic and exaggerated nature of other Hollywood narratives.
Ironically, the progression of Charlie’s script is also positioned alongside that of his twin brother Donald’s, which is extremely formulaic and adheres to simple rules from a screenwriting seminar. The latter provides a stark contrast to Charlie’s script – while Charlie wishes to write “something simple” and remain true to Susan’s original work, Donald naïvely takes a recipe-approach that exploits cliché Hollywood stories. As Charlie ridicules his brother’s rules and guidelines, he is also mocking the standards of conventions in the industry. For instance, when Donald pitches his concept about a serial killer cop who is also the victim, Charlie directly criticizes Hollywood scripts and condescendingly scoffs,
“The only idea more overused than serial killers is multiple personality.
On top of that, you explore the notion that cop and criminal are really two aspects of the same person. See every cop movie ever made for other examples of this.”
He also mocks these conventions by sarcastically blurting cliché character concepts when Donald asks for help, such as, “The killer’s a literature professor [who] calls himself ‘the deconstructionist.’” But the irony is really taken over the edge when Donald’s horrible script – which incorporates all of Charlie’s sarcastic suggestions – generates buzz and becomes a hit in the Hollywood community. The juxtaposition of Charlie’s failures as a writer with his twin brother’s success – with simple clichés and formulaic guidelines – provides an exaggerated notion of what makes a hit in Hollywood.
Jonze’s critique fully surfaces when the narrative structure begins to parallel Kaufman’s script and the plot of Adaptation itself. He ultimately writes himself into his own script out of desperation, making the screenplay about Kaufman himself writing about Orlean writing The Orchid thief. And when Kaufman becomes extremely despaired in the face of his writer’s block, he resorts to ludicrous scenarios, such as opening the film “right before life begins on the planet” and progressing through the evolution of life itself and “the whole human civilization” until the plot begins with Charlie sitting with producer Valerie Thomas. However, the humor here lies in the fact that this is exactly how Adaptation opens. Jonze plays on the ridiculousness of Kaufman’s tentative Hollywood script when audiences realize that it is, in actuality, the movie they are viewing. That Kaufman’s horrible screenplay is a Hollywood feature illustrates and emphasizes Jonze’s criticism of similar pieces. Similarly, when Donald naïvely proposes to portray three characters as the same individual in his script through “trick photography,” Charlie scoffs at him. This is another satirical insult of Hollywood writing as trick photography is used to portray twins Charlie and Donald, both played by Nicholas Cage. Thus, Adaptation incorporates these aspects of what Kaufman believes to be poor writing to mock screenplays in the industry.
Finally, once Kaufman resorts to seeking help from Robert McKee’s screenwriting seminar, Adaptation’s narrative structure, in an obviously ironic twist, mirrors the formulaic guidelines Kaufman learns from McKee. Just as McKee advises to save Kaufman’s script by “[wowing viewers] in the end,” the latter portion of Adaptation ventures into a jarringly preposterous plot involving drugs, sex, and a chase scene that ends in Donald’s death. The movie turns into exactly what Kaufman didn’t want to incorporate in his script – treating the orchids like poppies and “turning into a movie about drug running.” Structuring this Hollywood action-packed portion of the narrative at the end of the film creates a humorous contrast with the rest of the film, which in turn makes fun of Hollywood writing that approaches the ludicrous and far-fetched. Plus, having the characters from the separate smaller narratives, Charlie, Donald, Orlean, and Laroche, convene in an epic and somewhat coincidental encounter seems to be mocking the 90’s trend in cinema toward multiple intertwining narratives (ie. Pulp Fiction, Snatch, Go).
Furthermore, Jonze intentionally employs aspects of the narrative that stray from McKee’s formulaic approaches to over exaggerate industry standards. Throughout the film, voice-over narration is used to convey Kaufman’s thoughts and emotions. When Kaufman is sitting in the writing seminar, his thoughts that the program is pathetic and useless is abruptly interrupted by McKee’s towering voice, “and God help you if you use voice-over in your work, my friends…[because] any idiot can write a voice-over narration to explain the thoughts of a character.” This is especially satirical because, as a feature film, Adaptation employs this form of narration throughout its entirety, and is seemingly effective, albeit easy to write. Similarly, McKee specifically warned Kaufman against using a Deux Ex Machina in his script – a plot device whereby an obstacle or situation is overcome through the intervention of some new foreign object or character). And of course, this is employed when, at the climax of the chase scene, an alligator appears out of nowhere and saves Kaufman. Here Adaptation, as a screenplay, is deliberately worse than McKee’s narrative formulas, and makes fun of itself to call attention to the use of these “cop-out” methods in screenwriting.
While Adaptation’s critique is undermined by the fact that it is the horrible script written by Kaufman (here on more than one level; the real writer Charlie Kaufman wrote Adaptation), its message is clear. The film’s episodic nature and juxtaposed structures between script and screenwriter humorously exploits the frustration and futility of screenwriters’ trouble in avoiding selling out and using cliché formulas in their work. By the end of the feature, Kaufman’s life and script are hilariously one and the same. The film Adaptation, as well as Kaufman’s script concludes “with Kaufman driving home after his lunch with Amelia thinking he knows how to finish the script.” This closed perpetual cycle of Kaufman thinking he knows how to end his script with himself thinking he knows how to end the script creates an ironic and funny ending that makes light of the nature of Hollywood screenwriting as a whole. That Adaptation is a Hollywood feature that structurally follows (and essentially is) this script adds another layer of criticism to break and shed light on trends in Hollywood scripts. Jonze’s criticism of these conventions is illustrated by the humorous exaggeration of the narrative structure of the film, which goes to show that not only can imitation be the sincerest form of flattery, but it can also be the sincerest form of mockery.
Adaptation’s episodic narrative structure creates these parallels between Kaufman’s screenplay and his life, and thus comments on a relationship between a writer and his script. The film transcends temporal space and interweaves through various time periods, jumping mostly between the present day and the three years in the past in which the events of The Orchid Thief are set. For example, when Kaufman is lying in bed, his voice-over narration reads begins to read a quote from The Orchid Thief, which is finished by Orlean herself; this is used to transition into Orlean’s story three years prior, and a similar transition is used to return to Kaufman’s story. This structuring of the narrative in an order that cuts between Kaufman’s present-day confront with his adaptation piece and Orlean’s story forces audiences to follow Kaufman’s personal journey through his writing process as he interacts with the text. The scenes detailing Susan Orlean’s book that occur “3 Years Ago” in Florida are revealed as Kaufman continues his piece, and thus causes viewers to follow Kaufman’s perspective throughout the film. The order of events serves two functions: first, following the story from a single character’s point of view creates sympathy for the character and drives viewers to become engaged and involved with the movie; secondly it compels audiences to feel the same insanity and frustration that Kaufman faces in writing his screenplay. And by portraying the neurotic, insecure, and desperate Kaufman, Jonze is able to provide a darker side to Hollywood screenwriting.
Perhaps the most obvious critique lies in the fact that most of Kaufman’s difficulties in his task stems from his refusal to give The Orchid Thief the classical “Hollywood treatment.” Because the aforementioned narrative scheme draws parallels between Kaufman and the story, audiences sympathize with his determination to preserve Orlean’s original story and avoid turning his script into a “Hollywood thing.” There is a humorous tone when he mocks “artificially plot-driven” alternatives to the story like “an Orchid heist” or “changing the orchids into poppies and turning it into a movie about drug-running.” Juxtaposing the accounts in The Orchid Thief with Kaufman’s struggle to adapt its story (while avoiding Hollywood clichés) criticizes the movie industry’s standard of formulaic dramatic plots and its reputation for changing and revising novels and scripts. Furthermore, the three-year gap that exists between the two narratives mirrors the separation between Orlean and Kaufman’s adaptation, representing the loss of control writers face when their novels and screenplays undergo major revisions before becoming a feature film. After Orlean remarks that she’s never written a screenplay before, and the producer responds that they “have screenwriters to write the script,” the narrative shifts back to Kaufman’s desperate and almost pathetic plight to do this. Not only does this criticize Hollywood’s butchering process of script revisions, but this also voices concern towards the competency of its writers as illustrated by Kaufman.
The manner in which the narrative structure juxtaposes the two stories also provides another criticism of Hollywood scripts. The linear timeline of the movie constantly jumps all over the place (time), often having flashbacks (earlier scenes that interrupt the chronological development of the story) within flashbacks. For instance, at one point the timeline shifts from present day (Kaufman and his script) to three years prior (Orlean’s writing of The Orchid Thief), to one hundred years prior (the events of The Orchid Thief), back up to two years earlier from present day (Orlean’s New Yorker piece that is to become The Orchid Thief), to six months later (the story of the Orchid Thief himself John Laroche), and finally back to Kaufman in present day. This confusing narrative timeline serves to frustrate viewers as they trace the relevant and irrelevant scenes, which parallels Kaufman’s aggravation in selecting key scenes for his adaptation process and thus sheds light on the maddening process that goes into Hollywood screenplays. Furthermore, the ridiculousness of the non-linear timeline also stands to ridicule the over-dramatized convoluted plots that Hollywood releases – the type of plot Kaufman refuses to “make up.” This extreme episodic construct creates a humorous mocking of the Hollywood stories involving multiple storylines and flashbacks. A similar case is Kaufman’s preposterous concept of writing himself into his script on more than one level:
“We open on Charlie Kaufman. Fat, old, bald, repulsive, sitting in a Hollywood restaurant, across from Valerie Thomas, a lovely, statuesque film executive. Kaufman, trying to get a writing assignment, wanting to impress her, sweats profusely. Fat, bald Kaufman paces furiously in his bedroom. He speaks into his hand held tape recorder, and he says: ‘Charlie Kaufman. Fat, bald, repulsive, old, sits at a Hollywood restaurant with Valerie Thomas.’"
This portion of the film involving Kaufman’s script, which in turn involves Kaufman himself writing the exact same script, serves to create humorous Russian doll sequence that exploits the unrealistic and exaggerated nature of other Hollywood narratives.
Ironically, the progression of Charlie’s script is also positioned alongside that of his twin brother Donald’s, which is extremely formulaic and adheres to simple rules from a screenwriting seminar. The latter provides a stark contrast to Charlie’s script – while Charlie wishes to write “something simple” and remain true to Susan’s original work, Donald naïvely takes a recipe-approach that exploits cliché Hollywood stories. As Charlie ridicules his brother’s rules and guidelines, he is also mocking the standards of conventions in the industry. For instance, when Donald pitches his concept about a serial killer cop who is also the victim, Charlie directly criticizes Hollywood scripts and condescendingly scoffs,
“The only idea more overused than serial killers is multiple personality.
On top of that, you explore the notion that cop and criminal are really two aspects of the same person. See every cop movie ever made for other examples of this.”
He also mocks these conventions by sarcastically blurting cliché character concepts when Donald asks for help, such as, “The killer’s a literature professor [who] calls himself ‘the deconstructionist.’” But the irony is really taken over the edge when Donald’s horrible script – which incorporates all of Charlie’s sarcastic suggestions – generates buzz and becomes a hit in the Hollywood community. The juxtaposition of Charlie’s failures as a writer with his twin brother’s success – with simple clichés and formulaic guidelines – provides an exaggerated notion of what makes a hit in Hollywood.
Jonze’s critique fully surfaces when the narrative structure begins to parallel Kaufman’s script and the plot of Adaptation itself. He ultimately writes himself into his own script out of desperation, making the screenplay about Kaufman himself writing about Orlean writing The Orchid thief. And when Kaufman becomes extremely despaired in the face of his writer’s block, he resorts to ludicrous scenarios, such as opening the film “right before life begins on the planet” and progressing through the evolution of life itself and “the whole human civilization” until the plot begins with Charlie sitting with producer Valerie Thomas. However, the humor here lies in the fact that this is exactly how Adaptation opens. Jonze plays on the ridiculousness of Kaufman’s tentative Hollywood script when audiences realize that it is, in actuality, the movie they are viewing. That Kaufman’s horrible screenplay is a Hollywood feature illustrates and emphasizes Jonze’s criticism of similar pieces. Similarly, when Donald naïvely proposes to portray three characters as the same individual in his script through “trick photography,” Charlie scoffs at him. This is another satirical insult of Hollywood writing as trick photography is used to portray twins Charlie and Donald, both played by Nicholas Cage. Thus, Adaptation incorporates these aspects of what Kaufman believes to be poor writing to mock screenplays in the industry.
Finally, once Kaufman resorts to seeking help from Robert McKee’s screenwriting seminar, Adaptation’s narrative structure, in an obviously ironic twist, mirrors the formulaic guidelines Kaufman learns from McKee. Just as McKee advises to save Kaufman’s script by “[wowing viewers] in the end,” the latter portion of Adaptation ventures into a jarringly preposterous plot involving drugs, sex, and a chase scene that ends in Donald’s death. The movie turns into exactly what Kaufman didn’t want to incorporate in his script – treating the orchids like poppies and “turning into a movie about drug running.” Structuring this Hollywood action-packed portion of the narrative at the end of the film creates a humorous contrast with the rest of the film, which in turn makes fun of Hollywood writing that approaches the ludicrous and far-fetched. Plus, having the characters from the separate smaller narratives, Charlie, Donald, Orlean, and Laroche, convene in an epic and somewhat coincidental encounter seems to be mocking the 90’s trend in cinema toward multiple intertwining narratives (ie. Pulp Fiction, Snatch, Go).
Furthermore, Jonze intentionally employs aspects of the narrative that stray from McKee’s formulaic approaches to over exaggerate industry standards. Throughout the film, voice-over narration is used to convey Kaufman’s thoughts and emotions. When Kaufman is sitting in the writing seminar, his thoughts that the program is pathetic and useless is abruptly interrupted by McKee’s towering voice, “and God help you if you use voice-over in your work, my friends…[because] any idiot can write a voice-over narration to explain the thoughts of a character.” This is especially satirical because, as a feature film, Adaptation employs this form of narration throughout its entirety, and is seemingly effective, albeit easy to write. Similarly, McKee specifically warned Kaufman against using a Deux Ex Machina in his script – a plot device whereby an obstacle or situation is overcome through the intervention of some new foreign object or character). And of course, this is employed when, at the climax of the chase scene, an alligator appears out of nowhere and saves Kaufman. Here Adaptation, as a screenplay, is deliberately worse than McKee’s narrative formulas, and makes fun of itself to call attention to the use of these “cop-out” methods in screenwriting.
While Adaptation’s critique is undermined by the fact that it is the horrible script written by Kaufman (here on more than one level; the real writer Charlie Kaufman wrote Adaptation), its message is clear. The film’s episodic nature and juxtaposed structures between script and screenwriter humorously exploits the frustration and futility of screenwriters’ trouble in avoiding selling out and using cliché formulas in their work. By the end of the feature, Kaufman’s life and script are hilariously one and the same. The film Adaptation, as well as Kaufman’s script concludes “with Kaufman driving home after his lunch with Amelia thinking he knows how to finish the script.” This closed perpetual cycle of Kaufman thinking he knows how to end his script with himself thinking he knows how to end the script creates an ironic and funny ending that makes light of the nature of Hollywood screenwriting as a whole. That Adaptation is a Hollywood feature that structurally follows (and essentially is) this script adds another layer of criticism to break and shed light on trends in Hollywood scripts. Jonze’s criticism of these conventions is illustrated by the humorous exaggeration of the narrative structure of the film, which goes to show that not only can imitation be the sincerest form of flattery, but it can also be the sincerest form of mockery.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Brandon's Haircut
Watch in HD! A short that we've been sitting on since mid-February and never uploaded. Shot impromtu in an hour while Brandon had his hair cut by my cousin Nina and Kenji holds down Jenkins' "Allegretto." Enjoy!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
JT Aultz Lost Days - Inception
My edit for JT Aultz's Lost Days Footage. Real Skateboards had a little editing contest and my edit made it to the finals. Too bad I've been in China and didn't even know I made it until the day I got back and voting was closed. Oh well, all the other entries sucked anyway, it turned into a race of who can get the most votes. Either way, it's cool I made it up there, hope you like it. It's pretty funny. I didn't notice the mouse at 0:30...amateur mistake on my part. Inception footage is pixely cause I ripped it off of YouTube.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Claroscuro: Ed Wood Film Festival 2011
Winner of the Best Cinematography Award.
Conceived, shot, and edited in under 24 hours.
cla·ros·cu·ro (m.) - the interplay or contrast of dissimilar qualities (as of mood or character)
Our entry to USC's 2011 Ed Wood Film Festival. This beloved campus-wide festival gives every USC student the opportunity to form a five-person team and create an original five-minute film in 24 hours!
Prop: Energy Drink/Theme: As Bad As It Gets
Actors: Joe and Leeroy Queriapa
Crew: Justin Nguyen, Kevin Dinh, Brandon Choe, Andrew Yang, An Tran
Equipment: Canon 5D Mark II, iPhone 4 flashlights, Final Cut Pro
Monday, February 7, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
San Francisco
A couple of friends and I took a three day road trip from UC Riverside all the way up to the Bay Area over Martin Luther King Jr weekend. Among driving for hours, looking for parking, nearly running out of gas, and crashing at various college campuses we had quite the adventure. The solid two days in San Francisco spent sightseeing were nice, along with seeing some old faces. To top it off, a few days later I met up with the guys in Riverside to watch the Album Leaf play a one-hour set. I really like their sound, and it's cool to hear the music featured in our short films live. I took a grip of photos on the trip, but I don't have a scanner for my film prints. Here are some of Kevin's; they're way better than mine anyway.
Flickr.com/kevindinh
Flickr.com/kevindinh
Friday, January 14, 2011
Joe Queriapa - 60 Frames
Watch in HD. Filmed at 60 FPS on January 7, 2011. Edited with Final Cut Pro and After Effects.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
From the Archives
I haven't posted in forever, and I'm starting off 2011 with some old 2010 stuff. Here's some pics from the Downtown Showdown and Maloof Cup from the past year. Happy New Year's.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Writing 140 Assignment #4
“N-I-G-G-A-R…
…It’s the ‘Niggar’ family!” The Chappelle Show’s Season 2 skit “The ‘Niggar’ Family” opens by depicting a 1950’s style TV sitcom revolving around an affluent white family “the Niggars.” This is the typical Leave-it-to-Beaver-type nuclear family, except for the fact that the family name is pronounced exactly like the racial slur. Most of the skit’s humor is created by the disparity between the family’s extremely white appearance and their last name “Niggar.” Keeping in mind the last name of this fictitious family, Chappelle sets up a series of scenarios in which he applies African-American stereotypes to the white family. For example, the family affectionately comments on their newborn niece saying she has “those Niggar lips,” and jokingly chastise their son for sleeping in, calling him “one lazy Niggar.” Furthermore, the family’s African American milkman Clifton (played by Chappelle) puts specific emphasis on the name of “his favorite family to deliver milk to – the Niggars!” While some may argue that Chappelle is merely using racism as a means of humor, the skit “The Niggar Family” effectively critiques unfair yet deep-seeded African-American stereotypes. By presenting audiences these stereotypes, Chappelle shines a harsh light on racism that the public would otherwise lack the audacity to address, and further ridicules these prejudices by imposing the same stereotypes on a White family.
In this skit, Chappelle addresses a multitude of racist presumptions about African Americans, such as their athleticism, their love for pork, and their forgetfulness when it comes to paying bills. By presenting these stereotypes in a comedic fashion, Chappelle essentially mocks and makes light of an otherwise serious issue. His mockery is as blatant as his jokes are – he criticizes racism by making the prejudice the subject of laughter. As Kant stated, “laughter is an affectation arising from the sudden transformation of a strained expectation into nothing” (Berger 6); thus Dave Chappelle turns this racism into the focus of his comedy and reduces it to nothing. He takes an otherwise fragile subject and makes it approachable, and impels audiences to address these stereotypes, even if it is on a comedic level. For instance, the opening song introduces the family, but also presents something socially controversial – the use of the ‘N’ word – rather jarringly. This bluntness creates the humor that Chappelle utilizes to critique the racist stereotypes of African Americans by bringing them to the forefront of the audience. Just as the family in the skit acts as if there is no racism at hand when there is a clear and direct reference to it, Chappelle draws a parallel to society, ignoring racial context, stating that it is still very present. In fact, the latter portion of the skit directly tackles the issue when Chappelle bets that the white Timmy Niggar will “get the finest table a ‘Niggar’s’ ever gotten in this restaurant.”
Yet another prime example of how this critique functions is the portion of the skit where Jenny Halstead’s father learns that she is having a date with the “Niggar” boy from school. Initially thinking that she is to have a date with an African American, he acts appalled and concerned. At this point, laughter is generated by making fun of such a racist close-minded reaction. And when the father is relieved knowing that the boy is actually white, his relief from what he considered to be a problem pushes the humor even further. This instance takes a glance at racism in a similar household and ridicules it. Jenny’s father is portrayed as holding racial prejudices and is the center of the joke; Chappelle illustrates the fallacy of the father’s view that the situation is acceptable since the boy is white. He presents the prejudices as illogical and unwarranted, and audiences find such a perspective hilariously candid.
By relating these stereotypes to a White family, Chappelle degrades the racist conventions that, until then, had only applied to African Americans. As Assata Shakur believed in the 1970’s, these white stereotypes of African Americans were so ingrained in society, that Blacks called each other similar derogatory terms (30). However, in Chappelle’s system of comedic retribution, the White family is faced with the same prejudices that they perpetuated for decades. While some may argue the skit merely fuels this cycle of racist stereotyping, Chappelle illustrates its absurdity by bringing it full circle to Whites. In “The Niggar Family,” the whites are the ones being forgetful of paying bills, loving pork, being athletic, or being lazy. The skit illustrates that a family of any color can exhibit these same stereotypes that were previously reserved for African Americans. Furthermore, the skit degrades the racist standards by placing such a light tone on the atmosphere; although the racism is there, the skit remains cheery and jovial. As Chappelle would say in response to these racist remarks, “Niggar, please!” The skit turns the stereotypes into what they are – merely stereotypes – and undermines their power.
Chappelle’s degradation of these stereotypes is mirrored by his similar breakdown of the ‘N’ word. What makes this skit presentable to mixed audiences is that Chappelle uses the ‘N’ word to refer to the white family “Niggars,” when it is a clear reference to the racial slur. In fact, Chappelle phrases the family name no differently than in the manner he says the ‘N’ word, such as “Peace Niggars!” While some may argue that he only does this to produce cheap laughs and use offensive language on television, he is breaking down the word’s derogatory connotation by making it simply a family name. He makes clear what he is doing when he calls Frank Niggar, “Mr. ‘N’ Word.” Just as the name “Niggar” is just a family surname, the ‘N’ word is merely a word. Here, he undermines the power of the ‘N’ word by presenting it to the opposing race. Had he used an African American family, however, the skit would merely reiterate the historical self-hatred (Assata 31) among the Black community and perpetuate prejudices. But because the family is white, Chappelle is able to utilize the ‘N’ word in an unconventional setting and thus portray it as nothing more than a word to be made fun of. For instance, when Chappelle introduces Timmy Niggar to his wife, his wife actually mistakes him for another one of her African American acquaintances. This mix-up portrays the ‘N’ word as something not only used to refer to African Americans, while still being connected to its traditional use.
Yet another layer of critique present in “The Niggar Family” addresses how Whites are more socially accepted than the opposite race. In the skit, the white “Niggars” can get away with having such an offensive term as their last name as well as possessing some of the negative qualities that stereotypically black people are said to have. This notion focuses on the day-to-day cases, as well as historical incidents, in which African Americans are persecuted and scrutinized for their actions more heavily than Caucasians. This inequity is also a source of laughter for audience members, and Chappelle makes them aware of this disparity with his concept of a family that seems to resemble a Black family, but is more socially acceptable because they are white.
Now according to journalist Dexter Gordon’s theory of humor, Chappelle’s skit would be a “ridicule of White slaveholders” as a “safe way to do violence to the oppressor in return for justice” (256). He further states that this African American humor provides a channel for a “venting of anger and aggression while providing the community a sense of solidarity” (256). While this may be plausible, Gordon’s argument is not particularly valid because Chappelle’s social commentary isn’t limited to blacks. His audience is a mixed one, and his show holds massive appeal across the ethnic spectrum. Although his blunt commentary may be more acceptable for audiences because of his own race, he addresses both blacks and whites since they have both perpetuated these racist conventions. Plus, the closing portion of the skit features a family called the “Wetbacks” and opens the door for the breakdown of stereotypes for other races. Chappelle not only tackles issues of African American racism but racism in general.
However, there is merit to the argument that “The Niggar Family” simply encourages the racism it is intended to critique. Chappelle’s social commentary can fall onto the wrong audiences. Although most can see his evident critique, there are bound to be some, among the millions of viewers, who see nothing but racist jokes. Chappelle was actually concerned that he was acting “socially irresponsible” by potentially contributing to the very prejudices he is trying to break down. What he may not have considered is “how many people watch [his] show” and that the hottest comedian at the time had had a “moral responsibility” in his content (Chappelle). The effectiveness of his sketches is contingent on his audience, and he is socially aware of this. In his interview with Oprah, he acknowledges “that [there are] a lot of people who understand exactly what [he’s] doing…[and] then there is another group of people who will get something completely different” (Chappelle). This group of people refers to the racists he seeks to make fun of – and his skits can be taken as a means to reinforce their views. For instance, viewers who actually hold the prejudices Chappelle pokes fun at may only see the racism on the surface of his show and further uphold their prejudice. While the slim percentage of these viewers limit Chappelles’ social commentary, the majority of his audiences can view his message clearly in this skit.
Although Chappelle holds no moral obligations in his content as a comedian, his stance on his humor is clear. It is obvious that his skits aim to address social issues; and in the case of “The Niggar Family,” Chappelle breaks down racial stereotypes and the use of the ‘N’ word. His critique comes full circle at the end of the skit when he laughs, “This racism is killing me inside;” he implies that the racism is killing him humorously but also literally in a double entendre. Overall the skit’s directness clearly addresses issues of race, but is limited by the few who fail to see beyond Chappelle’s racist jokes. The meaning behind the skit is ultimately subjective to its audience, and cannot be perfectly conveyed with such a broad base of viewers. When taken as a whole, however, “The Niggar Family” can be interpreted for its social commentary by any conscious viewer who pauses to think for a moment.
…It’s the ‘Niggar’ family!” The Chappelle Show’s Season 2 skit “The ‘Niggar’ Family” opens by depicting a 1950’s style TV sitcom revolving around an affluent white family “the Niggars.” This is the typical Leave-it-to-Beaver-type nuclear family, except for the fact that the family name is pronounced exactly like the racial slur. Most of the skit’s humor is created by the disparity between the family’s extremely white appearance and their last name “Niggar.” Keeping in mind the last name of this fictitious family, Chappelle sets up a series of scenarios in which he applies African-American stereotypes to the white family. For example, the family affectionately comments on their newborn niece saying she has “those Niggar lips,” and jokingly chastise their son for sleeping in, calling him “one lazy Niggar.” Furthermore, the family’s African American milkman Clifton (played by Chappelle) puts specific emphasis on the name of “his favorite family to deliver milk to – the Niggars!” While some may argue that Chappelle is merely using racism as a means of humor, the skit “The Niggar Family” effectively critiques unfair yet deep-seeded African-American stereotypes. By presenting audiences these stereotypes, Chappelle shines a harsh light on racism that the public would otherwise lack the audacity to address, and further ridicules these prejudices by imposing the same stereotypes on a White family.
In this skit, Chappelle addresses a multitude of racist presumptions about African Americans, such as their athleticism, their love for pork, and their forgetfulness when it comes to paying bills. By presenting these stereotypes in a comedic fashion, Chappelle essentially mocks and makes light of an otherwise serious issue. His mockery is as blatant as his jokes are – he criticizes racism by making the prejudice the subject of laughter. As Kant stated, “laughter is an affectation arising from the sudden transformation of a strained expectation into nothing” (Berger 6); thus Dave Chappelle turns this racism into the focus of his comedy and reduces it to nothing. He takes an otherwise fragile subject and makes it approachable, and impels audiences to address these stereotypes, even if it is on a comedic level. For instance, the opening song introduces the family, but also presents something socially controversial – the use of the ‘N’ word – rather jarringly. This bluntness creates the humor that Chappelle utilizes to critique the racist stereotypes of African Americans by bringing them to the forefront of the audience. Just as the family in the skit acts as if there is no racism at hand when there is a clear and direct reference to it, Chappelle draws a parallel to society, ignoring racial context, stating that it is still very present. In fact, the latter portion of the skit directly tackles the issue when Chappelle bets that the white Timmy Niggar will “get the finest table a ‘Niggar’s’ ever gotten in this restaurant.”
Yet another prime example of how this critique functions is the portion of the skit where Jenny Halstead’s father learns that she is having a date with the “Niggar” boy from school. Initially thinking that she is to have a date with an African American, he acts appalled and concerned. At this point, laughter is generated by making fun of such a racist close-minded reaction. And when the father is relieved knowing that the boy is actually white, his relief from what he considered to be a problem pushes the humor even further. This instance takes a glance at racism in a similar household and ridicules it. Jenny’s father is portrayed as holding racial prejudices and is the center of the joke; Chappelle illustrates the fallacy of the father’s view that the situation is acceptable since the boy is white. He presents the prejudices as illogical and unwarranted, and audiences find such a perspective hilariously candid.
By relating these stereotypes to a White family, Chappelle degrades the racist conventions that, until then, had only applied to African Americans. As Assata Shakur believed in the 1970’s, these white stereotypes of African Americans were so ingrained in society, that Blacks called each other similar derogatory terms (30). However, in Chappelle’s system of comedic retribution, the White family is faced with the same prejudices that they perpetuated for decades. While some may argue the skit merely fuels this cycle of racist stereotyping, Chappelle illustrates its absurdity by bringing it full circle to Whites. In “The Niggar Family,” the whites are the ones being forgetful of paying bills, loving pork, being athletic, or being lazy. The skit illustrates that a family of any color can exhibit these same stereotypes that were previously reserved for African Americans. Furthermore, the skit degrades the racist standards by placing such a light tone on the atmosphere; although the racism is there, the skit remains cheery and jovial. As Chappelle would say in response to these racist remarks, “Niggar, please!” The skit turns the stereotypes into what they are – merely stereotypes – and undermines their power.
Chappelle’s degradation of these stereotypes is mirrored by his similar breakdown of the ‘N’ word. What makes this skit presentable to mixed audiences is that Chappelle uses the ‘N’ word to refer to the white family “Niggars,” when it is a clear reference to the racial slur. In fact, Chappelle phrases the family name no differently than in the manner he says the ‘N’ word, such as “Peace Niggars!” While some may argue that he only does this to produce cheap laughs and use offensive language on television, he is breaking down the word’s derogatory connotation by making it simply a family name. He makes clear what he is doing when he calls Frank Niggar, “Mr. ‘N’ Word.” Just as the name “Niggar” is just a family surname, the ‘N’ word is merely a word. Here, he undermines the power of the ‘N’ word by presenting it to the opposing race. Had he used an African American family, however, the skit would merely reiterate the historical self-hatred (Assata 31) among the Black community and perpetuate prejudices. But because the family is white, Chappelle is able to utilize the ‘N’ word in an unconventional setting and thus portray it as nothing more than a word to be made fun of. For instance, when Chappelle introduces Timmy Niggar to his wife, his wife actually mistakes him for another one of her African American acquaintances. This mix-up portrays the ‘N’ word as something not only used to refer to African Americans, while still being connected to its traditional use.
Yet another layer of critique present in “The Niggar Family” addresses how Whites are more socially accepted than the opposite race. In the skit, the white “Niggars” can get away with having such an offensive term as their last name as well as possessing some of the negative qualities that stereotypically black people are said to have. This notion focuses on the day-to-day cases, as well as historical incidents, in which African Americans are persecuted and scrutinized for their actions more heavily than Caucasians. This inequity is also a source of laughter for audience members, and Chappelle makes them aware of this disparity with his concept of a family that seems to resemble a Black family, but is more socially acceptable because they are white.
Now according to journalist Dexter Gordon’s theory of humor, Chappelle’s skit would be a “ridicule of White slaveholders” as a “safe way to do violence to the oppressor in return for justice” (256). He further states that this African American humor provides a channel for a “venting of anger and aggression while providing the community a sense of solidarity” (256). While this may be plausible, Gordon’s argument is not particularly valid because Chappelle’s social commentary isn’t limited to blacks. His audience is a mixed one, and his show holds massive appeal across the ethnic spectrum. Although his blunt commentary may be more acceptable for audiences because of his own race, he addresses both blacks and whites since they have both perpetuated these racist conventions. Plus, the closing portion of the skit features a family called the “Wetbacks” and opens the door for the breakdown of stereotypes for other races. Chappelle not only tackles issues of African American racism but racism in general.
However, there is merit to the argument that “The Niggar Family” simply encourages the racism it is intended to critique. Chappelle’s social commentary can fall onto the wrong audiences. Although most can see his evident critique, there are bound to be some, among the millions of viewers, who see nothing but racist jokes. Chappelle was actually concerned that he was acting “socially irresponsible” by potentially contributing to the very prejudices he is trying to break down. What he may not have considered is “how many people watch [his] show” and that the hottest comedian at the time had had a “moral responsibility” in his content (Chappelle). The effectiveness of his sketches is contingent on his audience, and he is socially aware of this. In his interview with Oprah, he acknowledges “that [there are] a lot of people who understand exactly what [he’s] doing…[and] then there is another group of people who will get something completely different” (Chappelle). This group of people refers to the racists he seeks to make fun of – and his skits can be taken as a means to reinforce their views. For instance, viewers who actually hold the prejudices Chappelle pokes fun at may only see the racism on the surface of his show and further uphold their prejudice. While the slim percentage of these viewers limit Chappelles’ social commentary, the majority of his audiences can view his message clearly in this skit.
Although Chappelle holds no moral obligations in his content as a comedian, his stance on his humor is clear. It is obvious that his skits aim to address social issues; and in the case of “The Niggar Family,” Chappelle breaks down racial stereotypes and the use of the ‘N’ word. His critique comes full circle at the end of the skit when he laughs, “This racism is killing me inside;” he implies that the racism is killing him humorously but also literally in a double entendre. Overall the skit’s directness clearly addresses issues of race, but is limited by the few who fail to see beyond Chappelle’s racist jokes. The meaning behind the skit is ultimately subjective to its audience, and cannot be perfectly conveyed with such a broad base of viewers. When taken as a whole, however, “The Niggar Family” can be interpreted for its social commentary by any conscious viewer who pauses to think for a moment.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Random HD Footage
Watch in 720p! I was too lazy to use any slow motion better than FCP. Some extra footage lying on my computer. Some at 30 fps and 60 fps. Edited most of this in class.
I've finally been home so I had a chance to upload a few new videos to my YouTube account.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Old Hendrix Edit
Pulling an all-nighter at Starbucks. Their internet is super fast so I decided to upload an old montage to some Hendrix. It's really old so the filming and colors suck, sorry! I miss this camera, hopefully I get it back soon.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Interracial Unity in T. Thomas Fortune’s Black and White
I like to feel scholarly sometimes.
American Studies 252 - Black Social Movements
Essay #1.
Promt: What was T. Thomas Fortune’s vision for America, particularly for the plight of black and white farmers? How did the U.S. Constitution, the Magna Carta, and the Communist Manifesto inform his ideas? [Obviously, Fortune makes passing reference to these documents, so it is up to you to extrapolate his ideas from the text.] What movements in the late 19th century took up his agenda and why did they fail?
In a country torn apart by deep-rooted racism and the “peculiar institution” of slavery, the 19th century African-American encountered radically changing time periods in the face of an oppressive society. From the outbreak of the Civil War to an era of Reconstruction for the defeated South, T. Thomas Fortune has witnessed the vices and plight of the African American in the course of pivotal points in U.S. history. While the Northern industrialists and Southern planters shared a post-Civil War vision for reconstructed America revolving around cheap docile labor, Fortune had his own revolutionary vision for the newly freed African Americans. His vision in Black and White transcends racial lines between the African Americans and Whites, and instead perceives the conflict to be one of socioeconomic class. Speaking out against injustices on land, education, political oppression, and labor of the hour, Fortune finds the cause of the laboring man “the same in all sections, in all States, in all governments [and] all the world” (108) and writes Black and White for the “common cause of a common humanity” (108). On the aforementioned issues, he advocates, respectively, common ownership of land, universal fundamental education, political independence by means of universal suffrage, and the unity of labor against an unjust capitalist system. At the heart of Fortune’s vision for America is a theme of interracial unity and can be reflected in his influences from the U.S. Constitution and the Communist Manifesto; furthermore, without this central component of interracial cooperation and class-conflict, his vision, as shown through the late 19th century movements that took up his convictions, ultimately fails.
On the subject of land reform, Fortune’s main vision for this interracial working class is the adoption of common land as a commodity and the abolition of land as private property. Interracial cooperation against this economic concern is crucial in his image of land reform; he believes both black and white farmers had an unalienable right to land for it was “one of the natural elements…without which life could in no wise be sustained” and upon which “[grew] those things which nature intended for the sustentation of the physical man” (136).
Indeed, the issue of land reform surpasses any racial lines and shifts the focus of the question to the economics aspect. A monopoly on land means farmers of both races struggling not only to pay land tenants but also to merely survive and feed their families; this leads to the poor conditions of the South, while it also increases the wealth of the land-owners with minimal labor. Fortune opposes these powerful land-aristocrats because “they thrive” while “all the rest of humanity…[revels] in poverty, vice, and crime” (140). Thus, the concept of land as common property would give “the same opportunity to the great laboring classes, who earnestly desire to make a living but to whom the opportunity is cruelly and maliciously denied” (Fortune 140). Without common access to the soil, the laboring classes of blacks and whites share the common enemy of the land-monopolist and must ultimately work past racial differences.
Fortune’s call for universal laborers mimics the Communist Manifesto’s universal cry for “working men of all countries [to] unite” (Marx 32). Similarly, Fortune’s idea of common property is shared in Marx’s Manifesto; in fact, the theory of the Communist party “may be summed up in the single sentence: Abolition of private property” (Marx 14). Both Marx and Fortune speak against the injustices of the upper class, which controls the methods of production, in this case, land, in support of the “proletariat.” The common land reform question is even raised in the English Magna Charta from centuries before; the 13th century citizens instated that all private forests to be “disafforested;” furthermore, the common ground for equal opportunity stems in Fortune’s belief in the U.S. Declaration of Independence and the Constitution that “All men are created equal” and are “under equal protection from the law.” Thus, looking at Fortune’s vision for equal opportunity in common land, one can see his influences by the aforementioned documents.
The idea of racial unity behind the common ownership of land is accompanied by Fortune’s same idea of racial unity behind labor. This is one of Fortune’s most directly explicated visions – that the economic oppression of laboring classes causes a need for the laboring blacks and whites to overthrow the capital-ruled society and distribute wealth more equally. By illustrating that “the condition of the black and white laborer is the same and that consequently their cause is common” (109), Fortune aims to change the capitalist environment that drives the labor of the majority to provide for the few. He speaks against competition between black and white farmers and instead asserts, “[the] intelligent, the ambitious and the wealthy men of both races will eventually rule over” without invidious regard to race or previous condition” (110).
Indeed, Fortune’s emphasis on the interracial future of labor is clear; capitalist competition, in its drive for the maximum production at the minimum cost, ultimately “reduces the wage of the great consumers as well as producers” (104). Slavery illustrates the immorality of exploiting workers at minimal cost; yet after its abolition, it has persisted in the economic exploitation of “wage-slavery.” This capitalist machine accumulates wealth in the hands of a few, and leaves little for the laborers. Thus, the black farmer and the white farmer “should unite under the one banner and work upon the same platform of principles for the uplifting of labor, the more equal distribution of the products of labor and capital” (108).
Again, it is evident that desegregated labor was at the heart of Fortune’s agenda; and this, again, has its roots in the Communist Manifesto. The Communist Manifesto advocates an agrarian socialist society with equal wealth and opportunity for all, which is essentially what Fortune argues for. Capitalist economy has a tendency to undermine, and therefore eventually eliminate, racism; and after the smoke has cleared on the controversy of race, what is left shall be the class struggle of poor versus rich. After all, as Marx affirms, “[the] history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles” (3).
On the question of the political role of the African American, Fortune champions harmony between the two races by calling for the black’s assimilation into a traditionally white political society. Although the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments guaranteed the ballot to all males on paper, they held little power in enforcing these ideals. Here, it is important to note Fortune’s bitter view of the Constitution as a non-living document.
Fortune’s reference to the Constitution as “our Magna Charta” illustrates how significant he perceives the document to be (at the time the English Magna Charta still stood for the righteous sentiment of government by the people for the people). It is the disparity between his strong belief in the Constitution’s ideals and its inability to enforce them that makes his tone bitter and ironic. In regards to slavery, however, Fortune mocks how “the most broad and liberal compact” can be used to shield the slave owners “but yet cannot shield a black man, a citizen and to the manor born, in any common, civil or political right which usually attaches to citizenship” (7). Of what use is a guarantee of equal protection under the law if it is not enforced? This document, which institutionalized the enslaved labor of millions of human beings, betrayed the ideals of equality that it had stood for. Thus, although political equality for African Americans cannot be achieved through America’s Magna Charta, it is nonetheless important to note its influence in Fortune’s beliefs in the very ideals it fails to uphold.
Returning to Fortune’s vision for political equality, he endorses “the harmony of sentiment between the blacks and whites of the country” as “natural and necessary” (71). Hence, the colored man of the South “must cultivate more cordial relations with the white men of the South” (78). In turn, the white men would ideally acknowledge the colored man as an independent force in Southern politics. To attain such acknowledgement as a true independent voter, Fortune sought to eradicate party affiliations by telling blacks to affiliate with “any faction which will ensure him in his right to ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’” (68). Again, one can note the influence of the Founding Father’s ideals on Fortune’s beliefs. Furthermore, he emphasized the need for intelligence and knowledge on the political system of government in order to create a true independent voter. And when African American votes lie on both sides of the political spectrum, racial divisions among politics will have been eliminated, and only then will the African American vote truly count.
With race out of the picture of politics, Fortune’s image for black and whites is comprehensible: that the “best interests of the race and the best interests of the country will be conserved by building up a bond of union between the white people and negroes of the South” (71). Since the interests of the two are essentially the same, future legislation affects them both, and African Americans should firstly assimilate as American citizens and equal recipients of the law. Thus, as Fortune states, “[to] preach the independence of the colored man is to preach his Americanization” (76); he must put his nationality before his ethnicity and join his fellow Americans, regardless of race.
Finally, Fortune’s theme of interracial unanimity is mirrored in his call for universal education. The role of education is vital in Fortune’s post-Reconstruction era, and he believed the government should provide it for all; it is the government’s responsibility “to see to it that its citizens are properly prepared to exercise wisely [their] liberties” (36). (Fortune’s reverence to the principles behind the Constitution is yet again reflected in his belief that “[the people] should be instructed in the language which is the medium through which to interpret their grand Magna Charta” (37).) Indeed, without education, the ballot is meaningless. Fortune not only speaks specifically for the blacks, but the poor whites, as well, who have no schools, appalling literacy, and horrible poverty, who are also men the same as their racial counterpart. Therefore, Fortune denounces the segregated school system that undermines his vision of racial unity. Not only does it unjustly demoralize the students, in their supposition that one is better than another, the system maintains twice its expenditures for the two sets of schools, “simply to gratify a prejudice” (41).
What Fortune suggests instead, is universal industrial education, education in a specific trade. If education prepares one for work to be done, then men should be taught with specific reference for that work. In his interracial proposal for education, Fortune asserts, “What the colored boy, what all boys of the country need, is industrial not ornamental education” (55). Here, he finds a social injustice as dealt to the African American population, and then incorporates his interracial standard for the Whites, as well, in dealing with the injustice.
Undeniably, Fortune’s concept of interracial unity is so crucial that the movements inspired by his beliefs eventually fail because they lack this unity. For instance, the National Colored Farmers’ Alliance, founded in 1886, took up the principles of T. Thomas Fortune and Booker T. Washington with an agenda that advocated economic progress for political unity. When collaborating with the white Farmer’s Alliance, they became divided over a Federal Elections Bill; and subsequently the white Farmer’s Alliance opposed one of the Colored Farmer’s strikes for the increase of wages of cotton-pickers. These failures consequently led to the decline of both movements. This is a prime example of how Fortune’s interracial unity was not achieved, and, as a result, the movement encounters failure.
A similar social working movement, the Knights of Labor, neglected the segregation of the South and excluded Chinese workers. The disparity and inequality of race ultimately resulted in the party’s decline in the 1890’s, too. Out of this grew the Populist movement, which, too, failed due to divisions within the party. Although initially speaking of setting aside between poor whites and blacks, their fusion with the Democratic party in the 1900’s introduced white supremacists, such as Thomas E. Watson, and a call for disfranchisement of the black vote. Here, these movements could not overcome the deeply rooted racial differences that Fortune believed would, in the end, disintegrate.
The lack of interracial unity was yet again the downfall of a political advancement in Wilmington, North Carolina. Although the Republicans and Populists defeated the Democrats for control of the state’s House and Senate seats in 1892 and even elected an African American to Congress in 1896, the Democrats eventually regained power. By appealing to whites’ racial fears, the Democrats won over white Populists to the ideas of White Supremacy and destroyed this interracial alliance.
Even the movement sparked by Marcus Garvey was undermined by racial conflict. While he initially gained followers because his advocated racial unity, his progress was eventually hindered because he made the fundamental assumption that those of colored skin shared his common beliefs; this assumption undermined racial equality for he presumed an entire race to possess his perspectives on the mere basis of their skin color. Once again, interracial agreement is key in Fortune’s proposal for America; without this, Fortune’s suggestions prove impossible to sustain.
Thus, interracial unity is central to T. Thomas Fortune’s vision and can be illustrated in his propositions for land, labor, politics, and education; one can see the influence of this essential component in the U.S. Constitution and Communist Manifesto. Indeed, the book that is the brainchild of his beliefs is titled Black AND White, with emphasis on the conjunction “and,” which connotes togetherness of the two people. As a book centers around its title, Fortune’s beliefs gravitate around this concept of harmony between Black and White. The failure of late 19th century movements that attempted to take up his agenda serves as direct evidence that the interracial unity they lacked was a key factor. Fortune’s ideas, as well as those behind Marx’s Manifesto, were radically ahead of his time – that “black and white citizens of the South must alter the lines which have divided them since the close of the war,” and that they are “essentially, one people [with] a common origin…[living] in the same communities, pursuing identical avocations, and subject to the same fundamental laws” (84). And although his vision for an agrarian society and the death of capitalism was never attained, it is significant to note his influence on future movements for political, social, and economic equality for blacks and poor whites, and to recall his main premise of interracial unity upon which these ideals are built can provide valuable insight into our nation’s past and to our future.
American Studies 252 - Black Social Movements
Essay #1.
Promt: What was T. Thomas Fortune’s vision for America, particularly for the plight of black and white farmers? How did the U.S. Constitution, the Magna Carta, and the Communist Manifesto inform his ideas? [Obviously, Fortune makes passing reference to these documents, so it is up to you to extrapolate his ideas from the text.] What movements in the late 19th century took up his agenda and why did they fail?
In a country torn apart by deep-rooted racism and the “peculiar institution” of slavery, the 19th century African-American encountered radically changing time periods in the face of an oppressive society. From the outbreak of the Civil War to an era of Reconstruction for the defeated South, T. Thomas Fortune has witnessed the vices and plight of the African American in the course of pivotal points in U.S. history. While the Northern industrialists and Southern planters shared a post-Civil War vision for reconstructed America revolving around cheap docile labor, Fortune had his own revolutionary vision for the newly freed African Americans. His vision in Black and White transcends racial lines between the African Americans and Whites, and instead perceives the conflict to be one of socioeconomic class. Speaking out against injustices on land, education, political oppression, and labor of the hour, Fortune finds the cause of the laboring man “the same in all sections, in all States, in all governments [and] all the world” (108) and writes Black and White for the “common cause of a common humanity” (108). On the aforementioned issues, he advocates, respectively, common ownership of land, universal fundamental education, political independence by means of universal suffrage, and the unity of labor against an unjust capitalist system. At the heart of Fortune’s vision for America is a theme of interracial unity and can be reflected in his influences from the U.S. Constitution and the Communist Manifesto; furthermore, without this central component of interracial cooperation and class-conflict, his vision, as shown through the late 19th century movements that took up his convictions, ultimately fails.
On the subject of land reform, Fortune’s main vision for this interracial working class is the adoption of common land as a commodity and the abolition of land as private property. Interracial cooperation against this economic concern is crucial in his image of land reform; he believes both black and white farmers had an unalienable right to land for it was “one of the natural elements…without which life could in no wise be sustained” and upon which “[grew] those things which nature intended for the sustentation of the physical man” (136).
Indeed, the issue of land reform surpasses any racial lines and shifts the focus of the question to the economics aspect. A monopoly on land means farmers of both races struggling not only to pay land tenants but also to merely survive and feed their families; this leads to the poor conditions of the South, while it also increases the wealth of the land-owners with minimal labor. Fortune opposes these powerful land-aristocrats because “they thrive” while “all the rest of humanity…[revels] in poverty, vice, and crime” (140). Thus, the concept of land as common property would give “the same opportunity to the great laboring classes, who earnestly desire to make a living but to whom the opportunity is cruelly and maliciously denied” (Fortune 140). Without common access to the soil, the laboring classes of blacks and whites share the common enemy of the land-monopolist and must ultimately work past racial differences.
Fortune’s call for universal laborers mimics the Communist Manifesto’s universal cry for “working men of all countries [to] unite” (Marx 32). Similarly, Fortune’s idea of common property is shared in Marx’s Manifesto; in fact, the theory of the Communist party “may be summed up in the single sentence: Abolition of private property” (Marx 14). Both Marx and Fortune speak against the injustices of the upper class, which controls the methods of production, in this case, land, in support of the “proletariat.” The common land reform question is even raised in the English Magna Charta from centuries before; the 13th century citizens instated that all private forests to be “disafforested;” furthermore, the common ground for equal opportunity stems in Fortune’s belief in the U.S. Declaration of Independence and the Constitution that “All men are created equal” and are “under equal protection from the law.” Thus, looking at Fortune’s vision for equal opportunity in common land, one can see his influences by the aforementioned documents.
The idea of racial unity behind the common ownership of land is accompanied by Fortune’s same idea of racial unity behind labor. This is one of Fortune’s most directly explicated visions – that the economic oppression of laboring classes causes a need for the laboring blacks and whites to overthrow the capital-ruled society and distribute wealth more equally. By illustrating that “the condition of the black and white laborer is the same and that consequently their cause is common” (109), Fortune aims to change the capitalist environment that drives the labor of the majority to provide for the few. He speaks against competition between black and white farmers and instead asserts, “[the] intelligent, the ambitious and the wealthy men of both races will eventually rule over” without invidious regard to race or previous condition” (110).
Indeed, Fortune’s emphasis on the interracial future of labor is clear; capitalist competition, in its drive for the maximum production at the minimum cost, ultimately “reduces the wage of the great consumers as well as producers” (104). Slavery illustrates the immorality of exploiting workers at minimal cost; yet after its abolition, it has persisted in the economic exploitation of “wage-slavery.” This capitalist machine accumulates wealth in the hands of a few, and leaves little for the laborers. Thus, the black farmer and the white farmer “should unite under the one banner and work upon the same platform of principles for the uplifting of labor, the more equal distribution of the products of labor and capital” (108).
Again, it is evident that desegregated labor was at the heart of Fortune’s agenda; and this, again, has its roots in the Communist Manifesto. The Communist Manifesto advocates an agrarian socialist society with equal wealth and opportunity for all, which is essentially what Fortune argues for. Capitalist economy has a tendency to undermine, and therefore eventually eliminate, racism; and after the smoke has cleared on the controversy of race, what is left shall be the class struggle of poor versus rich. After all, as Marx affirms, “[the] history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles” (3).
On the question of the political role of the African American, Fortune champions harmony between the two races by calling for the black’s assimilation into a traditionally white political society. Although the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments guaranteed the ballot to all males on paper, they held little power in enforcing these ideals. Here, it is important to note Fortune’s bitter view of the Constitution as a non-living document.
Fortune’s reference to the Constitution as “our Magna Charta” illustrates how significant he perceives the document to be (at the time the English Magna Charta still stood for the righteous sentiment of government by the people for the people). It is the disparity between his strong belief in the Constitution’s ideals and its inability to enforce them that makes his tone bitter and ironic. In regards to slavery, however, Fortune mocks how “the most broad and liberal compact” can be used to shield the slave owners “but yet cannot shield a black man, a citizen and to the manor born, in any common, civil or political right which usually attaches to citizenship” (7). Of what use is a guarantee of equal protection under the law if it is not enforced? This document, which institutionalized the enslaved labor of millions of human beings, betrayed the ideals of equality that it had stood for. Thus, although political equality for African Americans cannot be achieved through America’s Magna Charta, it is nonetheless important to note its influence in Fortune’s beliefs in the very ideals it fails to uphold.
Returning to Fortune’s vision for political equality, he endorses “the harmony of sentiment between the blacks and whites of the country” as “natural and necessary” (71). Hence, the colored man of the South “must cultivate more cordial relations with the white men of the South” (78). In turn, the white men would ideally acknowledge the colored man as an independent force in Southern politics. To attain such acknowledgement as a true independent voter, Fortune sought to eradicate party affiliations by telling blacks to affiliate with “any faction which will ensure him in his right to ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’” (68). Again, one can note the influence of the Founding Father’s ideals on Fortune’s beliefs. Furthermore, he emphasized the need for intelligence and knowledge on the political system of government in order to create a true independent voter. And when African American votes lie on both sides of the political spectrum, racial divisions among politics will have been eliminated, and only then will the African American vote truly count.
With race out of the picture of politics, Fortune’s image for black and whites is comprehensible: that the “best interests of the race and the best interests of the country will be conserved by building up a bond of union between the white people and negroes of the South” (71). Since the interests of the two are essentially the same, future legislation affects them both, and African Americans should firstly assimilate as American citizens and equal recipients of the law. Thus, as Fortune states, “[to] preach the independence of the colored man is to preach his Americanization” (76); he must put his nationality before his ethnicity and join his fellow Americans, regardless of race.
Finally, Fortune’s theme of interracial unanimity is mirrored in his call for universal education. The role of education is vital in Fortune’s post-Reconstruction era, and he believed the government should provide it for all; it is the government’s responsibility “to see to it that its citizens are properly prepared to exercise wisely [their] liberties” (36). (Fortune’s reverence to the principles behind the Constitution is yet again reflected in his belief that “[the people] should be instructed in the language which is the medium through which to interpret their grand Magna Charta” (37).) Indeed, without education, the ballot is meaningless. Fortune not only speaks specifically for the blacks, but the poor whites, as well, who have no schools, appalling literacy, and horrible poverty, who are also men the same as their racial counterpart. Therefore, Fortune denounces the segregated school system that undermines his vision of racial unity. Not only does it unjustly demoralize the students, in their supposition that one is better than another, the system maintains twice its expenditures for the two sets of schools, “simply to gratify a prejudice” (41).
What Fortune suggests instead, is universal industrial education, education in a specific trade. If education prepares one for work to be done, then men should be taught with specific reference for that work. In his interracial proposal for education, Fortune asserts, “What the colored boy, what all boys of the country need, is industrial not ornamental education” (55). Here, he finds a social injustice as dealt to the African American population, and then incorporates his interracial standard for the Whites, as well, in dealing with the injustice.
Undeniably, Fortune’s concept of interracial unity is so crucial that the movements inspired by his beliefs eventually fail because they lack this unity. For instance, the National Colored Farmers’ Alliance, founded in 1886, took up the principles of T. Thomas Fortune and Booker T. Washington with an agenda that advocated economic progress for political unity. When collaborating with the white Farmer’s Alliance, they became divided over a Federal Elections Bill; and subsequently the white Farmer’s Alliance opposed one of the Colored Farmer’s strikes for the increase of wages of cotton-pickers. These failures consequently led to the decline of both movements. This is a prime example of how Fortune’s interracial unity was not achieved, and, as a result, the movement encounters failure.
A similar social working movement, the Knights of Labor, neglected the segregation of the South and excluded Chinese workers. The disparity and inequality of race ultimately resulted in the party’s decline in the 1890’s, too. Out of this grew the Populist movement, which, too, failed due to divisions within the party. Although initially speaking of setting aside between poor whites and blacks, their fusion with the Democratic party in the 1900’s introduced white supremacists, such as Thomas E. Watson, and a call for disfranchisement of the black vote. Here, these movements could not overcome the deeply rooted racial differences that Fortune believed would, in the end, disintegrate.
The lack of interracial unity was yet again the downfall of a political advancement in Wilmington, North Carolina. Although the Republicans and Populists defeated the Democrats for control of the state’s House and Senate seats in 1892 and even elected an African American to Congress in 1896, the Democrats eventually regained power. By appealing to whites’ racial fears, the Democrats won over white Populists to the ideas of White Supremacy and destroyed this interracial alliance.
Even the movement sparked by Marcus Garvey was undermined by racial conflict. While he initially gained followers because his advocated racial unity, his progress was eventually hindered because he made the fundamental assumption that those of colored skin shared his common beliefs; this assumption undermined racial equality for he presumed an entire race to possess his perspectives on the mere basis of their skin color. Once again, interracial agreement is key in Fortune’s proposal for America; without this, Fortune’s suggestions prove impossible to sustain.
Thus, interracial unity is central to T. Thomas Fortune’s vision and can be illustrated in his propositions for land, labor, politics, and education; one can see the influence of this essential component in the U.S. Constitution and Communist Manifesto. Indeed, the book that is the brainchild of his beliefs is titled Black AND White, with emphasis on the conjunction “and,” which connotes togetherness of the two people. As a book centers around its title, Fortune’s beliefs gravitate around this concept of harmony between Black and White. The failure of late 19th century movements that attempted to take up his agenda serves as direct evidence that the interracial unity they lacked was a key factor. Fortune’s ideas, as well as those behind Marx’s Manifesto, were radically ahead of his time – that “black and white citizens of the South must alter the lines which have divided them since the close of the war,” and that they are “essentially, one people [with] a common origin…[living] in the same communities, pursuing identical avocations, and subject to the same fundamental laws” (84). And although his vision for an agrarian society and the death of capitalism was never attained, it is significant to note his influence on future movements for political, social, and economic equality for blacks and poor whites, and to recall his main premise of interracial unity upon which these ideals are built can provide valuable insight into our nation’s past and to our future.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Clara x DFD
Pretty cool show. Two of my favorite YouTube stars. Great musicians. I wish I had taken some pictures of the Dr. Dog concert at the Wiltern.
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