An Industrial Education #1 - Preface

A few months ago, I had an epiphany. I realized what I wanted to dedicate the next several years of my life to, knowing that I had just the background, access, and mindset that would be required to complete such an enormous, life-altering task. I would write a book.

Not just any book, of course. I had a specific one in mind. I decided that I would write a history and critical analysis of industrial music.

I was beyond enthusiastic about my idea. I knew I had what it would take-- the skills as a writer and editor, the background in academic writing, the attention to detail and passion needed to research, research, research. I had connections in the genre that would allow me access to firsthand accounts and guidance along the way. And I had the childlike curiosity of an explorer as well as the mature yearning-to-devour-everything-in-understanding mindset that would fuel me forward even when I hit the rough patches a project like this would inevitably propel me into. I settled into the knowledge that much of my free time would be devoted to this endeavor for years to come, and that it would certainly mean putting my poetry on the backburner. But the outcome would be worth it; it would be a transformational journey that would provide me personally with a much more inclusive and complete understanding of the music which has become my life. It would also provide a service to the scene that has taken me in and nurtured me, given me the life I always imagined I could have, because there was nothing else out there that would compare. I know because I even started on some extremely preliminary research to see what I could find. This book was begging to be done.

I kept the book in the back of my mind, simmering, for a couple of weeks. I needed to bring it to a boil, and I finally let my best friends C. and D., as well as my mother, in on it. All three were enormously supportive and just as excited as I was. The next step was to contact my friend J., who I imagined would be a guiding light throughout the project as he was chock-full of the experiences, knowledge, friendships, emotions, ideas, and opinions that would lead me on my path.

J. and I walked away from the group of our friends when I mentioned that I had an idea I'd like to run by him privately. I still wasn't ready to make the proposal public for fear that someone else might undertake it first. In fact, I was shocked that no one had come up with such an obvious book idea previously. There are tons of published critical and encyclopedic books about specialty music, lifestyles, and interests. In high school, I poured over Sound of the Beast: The Complete History of Heavy Metal because I wanted to know from whence came the music which, at that time, pervaded and empowered my life. I was also interviewed via e-mail by author Nancy Kilpatrick and subsequently quoted in her publication The Goth Bible: A Compendium for the Darkly Inclined, an informational and positive book written lovingly by a member of the goth subculture for those otherwise inundated with the stereotypes perpetuated by the media. (You can find my quotes attributed to one of my pseudonyms, XjUsTcRuCifyX. I was only 16, but most of what I said still applies to my outlook today, over ten years later.)

Though J. was also extremely supportive and willing to help with my project however he could, he unwittingly crushed my dreams that night. He asked if I had ever heard of such a book before, because he had been contacted by a writer who interviewed him for one that sounded similar. He was certain it had been released already, but he wasn't sure. When I went home that night, I performed a quick Google search (which, if you remember, I had already done once). The top result had changed. It was now a link to a book that would be released in June 2013, a book with a description that made it apparent I'd missed my chance, just barely, because it had already been done. I felt like I had lost out on perhaps the greatest idea I'd ever had.

I was also egotistical enough to consider that perhaps the book wouldn't be the same book I was planning to write, that maybe the author wasn't the right person for the task and it had turned into something of a disaster. Maybe there was still room for my own book, a better book, a book which would tear down this upcoming release by someone named S. Alexander Reed. Surely he didn't have the background, the critical and academically analytical mind I contained, which I was planning on focusing into the project. Surely he wasn't equipped with the same level of passion and emersion into the music which was my experience, which would take my book to the next level. Then it dawned on me.

Oh yeah.

S. Alexander Reed, Ph.D. Professor of music, University of Florida. Vocalist and musician in the now-defunct industrial band ThouShaltNot (who, by the way, I love).

Not only did Reed obviously have the necessary experience and passion to write the book I imagined, he inarguably had a shit-ton more experience than I did, both academically and esoterically. He had everything the author of my preferred book had, which I thought I had, but moreso. And I accepted that if I couldn't write it, the right person had, and I would undertake the task of being his eager, impressionable student.

In the middle of June, Eide's Entertainment stocked an extremely limited supply of S. Alexander Reed's Assimilate: A Critical History of Industrial Music, published by the renowned Oxford University Press.

Cover image obtained from Storming the Base.

D. purchased a copy and brought it to dinner one night at my request. I wanted to hold it, flip through it, see what it consisted of, if it was up to my admittedly high standards. Upon seeing the grin on my face as I finished reading the synopsis on the back cover, D. offered to let me borrow the book until I got my own. I was ecstatic, and told him that I would read this book with the inquisitive and critical mind of the former graduate student that I was. He asked if I was the type of person who would highlight and make notes in the margins. I told him I was, but wouldn't do so in his copy of the book. He made me a deal that I could keep this copy if I gave him the copy I purchased when it arrived. He knew I was dying of anticipation, ready to embark on my academic study of the music which changed my life all of those years ago. Grateful, I wholeheartedly accepted.

In my attempt to undertake a serious, academic, critical study of Reed's text, I decided I should give myself some homework (what a great self-teacher I am!). I wanted to ensure that I wouldn't rush through the book but would rather read it deliberately, absorbing the information it provided and opening a dialogue with it. What better way to do so than to write reflection/response pieces after reading? Which brings me here.

I am going to read the book in small chunks, digestable sections and write a post after each one. I will take the time to listen to the recommended playlists and do further research where necessary. I will even attempt to obtain the listed sources and devour them, as well. I know, I know. It sounds obsessive and time-consuming. It is. Only someone with this obsession would even consider writing the book in the first place!

I anticipate many changes in my perspective on the music I love. I am sure I will learn information which I had never know before. I will be led to consider much which might elicit both positive and negative feelings within me, and I will be forced to examine that which I had not before. Sometimes I'm sure I'll want to fight with Reed. Other times I will do nothing more than nod my head in awed acceptance. I must remain aware that Reed's work is not the bible and I will need to critically consume it rather than blindly accept it as gospel, though that alone will be difficult. Already, I have seen discussions about the text which show that it may be undermined on certain points, but aren't all "authoritative texts" flawed in one way or another, depending on your perspective? I imagine it is good news when people are already preying on the work, meaning it has ruffled feathers and hurt egos-- exactly the way my book would have done had I written it. And, to balance it, there are also conversations showing people discovering that what they thought was inaccurate is actually truth, such as this extremely interesting, insightful, and entertaining one. 

I intend to capture the whole journey on this blog. Instead of merely reviewing Assimilate, I will make the reading of Reed's work my personal industrial education. And you can come along.

Jim Henson and The Abominable Charles Christopher

I am sick. And I am in the middle of working eight out of nine days. No, I can't afford to take a day off. Such is the life of a starving artist!

In an effort not to bore you with my complaining, yet to follow through on my mission to post to this blog once weekly, I have decided to share with you what's currently occupying my reading time.

One of the managers of the store in which I work brought me three graphic novels to read. These mark my first foray into the graphic novel medium, and I love them. While I'm not going to indulge my penchant for detailed analysis this week, I will highly recommend that you check these beautifully illustrated, fantastical tales.

The first is a graphic novel adaptation of a long-lost Jim Henson/Jerry Juhl screenplay called Tale of Sand. Set in the already-surreal Southwestern U.S. desert landscape, the existential storyline hails from Henson's and Juhl's experimental period. Comic artist Ramón Pérez expertly breathes visual life into the characters and setting, making this graphic novel the next-best-thing to the actual unmade film.

But it is the two-book collection of online comic The Abominable Charles Christopher which stole my ill, feverish heart. Authored and illustrated by veteran comic artist Karl Kerschl, the ongoing tale follows a cast of speaking animals in a world filled with magical happenings. It's humorous, sad, hopeful, heartwarming, and utterly human at once. I'll definitely be following Charles weekly for the rest of his fictional life!

Guess I owe B. a million thanks for opening my mind not only to a new creative medium, but also to two tales perfect for my aesthetic indulgence! :)

Suicide for Commercialists

The other day, I was browsing Facebook, as we contemporary American humanoids are wont to do, and I found a link in my news feed that captured my eye-- a blurb regarding a VICE Magazine fashion spread recreating scenes of the suicides (or attempts thereof) of selected women writers. Those of you who know me will understand precisely why it garnered my second look, considering the thumbnail attached to it featured a photographic representation of my favorite poet, Sylvia Plath. I clicked it, viewed it, and shared it on my own page with no commentary, just a "Hmm." A few of my most intelligently-spoken friends responded with their feelings surrounding this something-of-a-controversy, and that led me to open Microsoft Word and document some of my own thoughts. An hour later, I realized a Facebook comment wouldn't be the place for my ramblings, and that led me here.

For you to understand my line of thought, I should allow you to look in on the thoughts of my friends. K. was the first to respond, saying, "I've gone back and forth with this. On one hand, it's interesting. I don't think suicide is something to shy away from, and the facts are the facts. On the other hand, it's fashion. And I just don't think fashion is a good enough excuse to exploit suicide." Z. responded next: "All I'm seeing is a magazine exploiting something as heart-wrenching as suicide to sell clothes." Z. later added, "Honestly I can understand the merits of art engaging taboo subjects, and I'm all for it. But the fact that at the end of the day this is just an advertisement for clothes, it doesn't sit right with me. What's worse to me is the fact that it doesn't just depict just general situations of suicide, but specifically the suicides and attempts of famous literary females. Actual people. Their pain is being used as advertisement?"

I, too, have mixed feelings about this. Normally I would have never posted a blog from PerezHilton.com. I don't frequent the site, nor do I have any interest in doing so since celebrity gossip is hardly my cup o' coffee. I also wouldn't normally use (or quote) such a blog as a basis for a larger philosophical discussion, but it was the first site I found all of the pictures in one place after VICE Magazine removed them from their own website. You can also view them on Jezebel.com or in the print issue of VICE Magazine, where they cannot be redacted.

First of all, I'm in complete agreement with K. that "suicide is [not] something to shy away from." I will take it a step further and say that suicide can be artistically relevant and profound. This, of course, does not imply that I am suicidal or that I am pro-suicide, but let's face the facts here: I used to flirt with suicide, to lust after it. There's something aesthetically alluring about it to my dark heart (bahaha at the clichés rolling around here!), and I'm not afraid or ashamed to publically own that. And, K.'s also correct that "fashion is not a good enough excuse to exploit suicide." But I would like to specify that this kind of fashion is not a good enough excuse to exploit suicide. I absolutely love high, abstract fashion, and had this spread used that sort of approach, I might think it a tad bit (again, a tad bit) more understandable. For example (and I am hanging my head in mock shame here), I used to be obsessed with the show America's Next Top Model because I loved critiquing their fashion shoots. And Tyra and Co. have done some super-dark, creative, and stunning high fashion photo shoots. A fashion spread of that nature coupled with this idea of suicide might have been more artistically compelling. But these sorts of shoots are usually set in a fantasy world with fantastical clothing, hair, and makeup, and so it would lose the realism that VICE Magazine obviously wanted to portray here. And maybe that's why I would have found it more tasteful.

As it stands, both K. and Z. are correct. This is commercialized suicide for a consumerist, materialistic audience with an end goal of securing profit (the clothing companies will make the profit, pass it on to the magazine as payment for advertising their clothing, and thus the magazine will profit). PerezHilton.com quotes the magazine's statement as saying, "fashion spreads in VICE magazine are always unconventional and approached with an art-editorial point-of-view rather than a typical fashion photo-editorial one." To me, that's a public relations ploy that reduces the weight of the role of profit in these endeavors. After all, why do we even have fashion spreads, no matter what their perspective?! It's all about the Benjamins, baby. And utilizing a glorified, glamorized version of suicide for that is not cool. Who's to say that the photo representation of Dorothy Parker with slit, bleeding wrists isn't a psychological trigger for certain viewers? (Hint: it is.) Doesn't fashion media hurt its audience with enough subliminal messages? Does it need to kill them, now, too?

What's more is that these photos were constructed for use in a fashion spread, which is supposed to entice consumers into purchasing the pictured products based on a carefully-delivered illusion of need. (Please note that from here on out the use of the single-gendered term "women" in reference to the consumers is only specified because the fashion spread is clearly directed at this particular group of consumers.) Women are supposed to somehow relate to the models, the environments, the situations in fashion spreads. They are supposed to envision themselves as the culturally-accepted version of beauty each of these models embodies. They are supposed to envision themselves in the places pictured, acting out the situations depicted. Think about it. What is so compelling about American Apparel advertisements? Women want to see themselves with a natural, Americanized, hipster sense of beauty, in simple yet sexy clothes, looking up at their assumingly studly lovers from the wrinkled bedsheets on which they lie. And that's what American Apparel ads sell to their audience.

So what, exactly, does that mean the clothiers featured in this particular fashion spread are selling to their intended consumers? They're certainly selling the glamorized version of these women writers-- the fame, the fortune, the beauty of a creative life whittled away at typewriters and on paper, the allure of having something so profound to say that it need be distributed to the masses and studied in English classes around the Western world (note that there is no mention of the fact that these writers weren't nearly as famous until after their highly-publicized deaths). Okay, so that fits. I'd want to buy it. But at its fundamental core, these photos attempt to sell only one thing-- the renown of suicide. The glamour of suicide. The choice of suicide. Because, let's face it-- in the most successful fashion spreads (I assume), the clothing is actually showing. And there are only four photos included in this spread that actually show the clothing clearly enough to make a woman lust after it enough to purchase it. The blogger at PerezHilton.com got it right: "Like any typical fashion story, the models' outfits were meticulously styled and credited..." But where are those outfits?! We see them in the Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elise Cowen photos, as well as a sense of an outfit in the Dorothy Parker photo. But we have no idea what outfits the San Mao and Iris Chang photos actually contain. And since the focus in these photos is not on the clothing and accessories, but rather the story of the photos, I find it is correct to assume that the spread is not actually attempting to sell the clothing. It is selling suicide.

Here, I think it's important to consider the actual subjects of the shoot. Again, PerezHilton.com quotes VICE Magazine's statement: "'Last Words' was created in this tradition and focused on the demise of a set of writers whose lives we very much wish weren't cut tragically short, especially at their own hands." Okay, so this part of the statement brings up several specifics. First of all, the depicted subjects are all women. We could talk about sexism here, but I'm going to let that go for now, since it's not the part that interests me most. After all, VICE has historically been a men's magazine, and fashion has historically been a woman's pursuit. More interesting, rather, is the fact that these women are all writers. Despite the fact that this particular issue of VICE Magazine is "The Fiction Issue 2013," it features women creatives of all professions--except where this fashion spread is concerned.

What do you think that means? Women writers aren't the only famous creative individuals who committed suicide and who deserve the wish of not having had their lives "cut tragically short." What about Marilyn Monroe? For that matter, what about Kurt Cobain? (Yes, I realize the level of conspiracy theory regarding both of these deaths, but for the sake of my argument, I'm focusing only on the officially-named cause of death.) I wonder what the magazine was trying to say in depicting writers because, after all, I am a writer, and suicide has long been an aesthetic interest of mine (refer to above suicidal flirtation discussion). So these particular specifications--woman, writer, suicide--are pretty personal for me in particular, and I don't claim to be the only one. 

What about those still-living friends and family members of the depicted writers? Sylvia Plath has extant family, particularly her daughter, Frieda Hughes. What would it be like for Frieda to view this image representative of possibly the worst memory she has of her mother? Can we say "horrifying?!" My friend Z. got it right when he said, "What's worse to me is the fact that it doesn't just depict just general situations of suicide, but specifically the suicides and attempts of famous literary females. Actual people. Their pain is being used as advertisement?"

 The next logical question is, "Why were these particular suicidal women writers chosen to be portrayed?" I'm throwing away my obsession with Sylvia Plath here. Or maybe I shouldn't. Because I am obsessed with Sylvia Plath's work, life, and death. I studied Plath in public school, college, and graduate school, and that gives me the necessary authority to scrutinize her specific use in this fashion spread. But I have to be honest and say that, before this arose, I was not familiar with the other writers portrayed. So I decided to do some research on them in an attempt to discover any connections between them that might enlighten me to some sort of thematic incorporation. Virginia Woolf was a British modernist with a lifetime of emotional issues who ended up drowning herself. Iris Chang was an American historian and journalist who suffered from depression, was heavily medicated and even hospitalized, and who eventually shot herself in the mouth in her car. Dorothy Parker was an American satirist who attempted suicide several times but lived to die in old age of a heart attack. Charlotte Perkins Gilman, a prolific American author, dealt with depression and overdosed on chloroform after her cancer diagnosis. San Mao, a Taiwanese author, hung herself with silk stockings after the death of her husband, the loss of an award, and a near-diagnosis with cancer. Elise Cowen, American Beat poet, was hospitalized several times for mental illness and eventually jumped to her death from her parents' 7th-story living room window.

What I found was that all of these authors lived in the 20th century. All were unashamed in their writings and generally outspoken regarding certain inequities of life, to which they devoted time and activism (though in different forms). They all dealt with a lifetime of mental and emotional illness which, in all but Parker's case, led to their deaths. But in researching these women, I felt relief at the fact that at least VICE Magazine chose strong, independent, prolific, successful, and honorable writers (suicides/attempts notwithstanding). They got something right, and it was the fact that these women all deserve to be celebrated, whose lives I "wish weren't cut tragically short." Of course, all of this is based only on the most basic biographical information of each of these women, and not an intimate knowledge and understanding of their actual bodies of work (save for, quite obviously, Sylvia Plath).

In the end, I say kudos to VICE magazine for pushing boundaries. They certainly have a history doing so, as can be seen on the VICE Magazine Wikipedia page (or this photo spread [WARNING: adult content]). I'm all for it, if that's all it were. One only has to read my most graphic, gruesome poetry to know that. But as they say, negative press is better than no press at all, and VICE Magazine is certainly in the limelight right now. I had never heard of it before, but I won't forget the name now, and neither will thousands, if not millions, of other people like me. So it seems that no matter what your opinion on the matter, VICE magazine has actually done exactly what they set out to do-- to get traffic, which, as we have already discussed, gets those Benjamins. And yet, I see so much room for improvement here. I'm actually not against the use of suicide as a subject matter for creative works, nor am I against the use of culturally-known personae as a medium for delivery of those creative works. If that's all this were-- a set of creative photographs by a well-known portrait photographer à la Annie Bertram, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But bringing commercialism into the mix, and then mixing up the selling of fashion with the selling of suicide, is deplorable. And now it might be time for me to go out and take some dark, fantastical, and likely post-apocalyptic renditions of all of these photographs, if only to show that I could have done it so much better... and with no purpose other than my own creative fulfillment.