by Chantal Tseng

Not-so-casual Xenophobia, Klexos, & Leonard / Leonardo obscura

Did you know that there is a word for the art and nuance of dwelling in the past? Just learned it. I’m totally mesmerized. Lose yourself here: klexos.

Consider this as a variant of Leonardo da Vinci quotables: Memory is a work of art never finished, only abandoned. Because the more we revisit our past lives, the more we perhaps notice that which we didn’t before. But also, the more we go back in time, the more we finesse our reality and maybe even bring back something with us anew. Our context shifts and our identity perhaps gets an additional brushstroke here and there. Here’s an exercise. Try looking back and perhaps noticing the moments of bias and hidden racism here and there and basically everywhere. Less of a treasure hunt, more of a digging deeper into the highly awkward and ignorant folds of our unconscious consciousness. (Also try repeating that last bit, but with a Twilight Zone-esque eerie soundtrack in the background.)

As I read and watch more shows, I’ve started to pick up on some trends. The phrase “gaining purchase,” as if a grip on a rock or cliff face, comes up frequently. But perhaps more meaningful, the blatant racism of H.P. Lovecraft, comes up quite often. And if you didn’t know, well, now you do.

Here is a reference to his raging xenophobic sentiments because I’d rather not re-type them here. I had no idea just how awful his politics and racism were until just barely a few years ago. One day, a generous and wise human pointed it out in a way that didn’t make me feel stupid, regardless of my actual reality.

“Chicago’s South Side were represented as shining
fortresses” : 2 oz. Gin, .75 oz. fresh lime,
.5 oz. simple syrup (1:1), soda, lots of mint

“I do love them,” George agreed. “But stories are like people, Atticus. Loving them doesn’t make them perfect. You try to cherish their virtues and overlook their flaws. The flaws are still there, though.” “But you don’t get mad. Not like Pop does.”

“No, that’s true, I don’t get mad. Not at stories. They do disappoint me sometimes.” He looked at the shelves. “Sometimes, they stab me in the heart.” ― Matt Ruff, Lovecraft Country

It’s a relatable emotion. Similar to finding one of your nostalgic favorite singers from long ago supporting alt-right wing hateful political stances on Twitter. Suddenly, you question whether you should shower-sing-along to their music anymore. Probably not. Or learning that in fact, J.K. Rowling is heavily biased against Trans lives. Re-watching Harry Potter over and over used to bring me so much joy. Now, it’s just another form of heartbreak in this day and age of sticking to one’s prejudiced guns.

“The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.” ―Leonardo da Vinci

And now for a completely different opinion. I cannot share enough just how enjoyable N.K. Jemisin’s stories and characters are. I finished her Broken Earth trilogy the year before last, her short story collection “How Long ‘Till Black Future Month” last year and just read her latest novel this past week where I found yet again more Lovecraft realness striking home.

“Dangerous mental machines…Yeah. That was H.P. Lovecraft’s fun little label for folks in Chinatown–sorry, ‘Asiatic filth.’ He was willing to concede that they might be as intelligent as white people because they knew how to make a buck. But he didn’t think they had souls.” ― N.K. Jemisin, The City We Became

This line really hurt. This whole scene in the Bronx Art Gallery I thought was brilliant, but yeah, it stung a bit deep. It reminds me of some of my own crushing insecurities from childhood.

Input and Output.

I used to debate whether or not I was actually a robot. Just today I said to myself “Self, we have been indulging in enough input, maybe let’s try some output.” As in, I’ve been binge reading and show watching a bit much lately so maybe we should try writing for a bit. That’s a point for the stereotype brigade right there. Ha. If only I were a model efficient Asian stereotype. I imagine my living space would be much neater and that I wouldn’t sore-throat-ugly-cry while watching Inside Out. 

I recall a phase where I believed I couldn’t cry. Several years in my late teens, I started to consider my time-lapse of never crying and was convinced that I somehow didn’t have the ability any more. Like I was just a machine, (regardless of all the very human things I did like eating, drinking, as well as the very human removal of that which I ate and drank). All that suddenly changed, while watching Mulan in a Berkeley theater one summer in the late nineties. It may have been the beginning of a tumultuous time. Tears of renewal? I might not have understood it then, but I was definitely emotionally overwhelmed by the story of the brave tomboy Asian heroine, a real first for American cinema.

Ever notice how the creation of an alien in the old Star Trek universe basically led to racial othering/profiling? Don’t get me wrong. I still think the original series helped bring down walls and tackled some taboos of the time. BUT STILL. Rather let’s think of Mr. Spock. He clearly started off as a not-so-casual racist depiction of an Asian stereotype born from the golden age of sci-fi, an iconic representation of an entire intelligent species that values cold efficiency over emotion. His non-alien counterpart, Hikaru Sulu, Asian scientist turned helmsman who rarely had more than one facial expression in the original series, essentially sported the same vein. Granted, due to the longevity of their series, both characters evolved and were given more nuance, eventually. I was particularly thrilled that the newer reboot re-evaluated and fleshed out both of these characters in brilliant ways both playing homage but also breaking out of tropes. Kudos and of course, RIP to Leonard Nimoy.

I suppose at the heart of all the many adaptations of works, the remakes of films done over and over and over, is the grandiose combo of the pull to the creation of art and klexos. Our need to revisit an idea, a character, a story til the end of time is just so restorative and often neverending.

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.” ― Leonardo da Vinci

by Chantal Tseng

True Colors, Gothic Terror and calling upon Thor with our Tears of Vengeance

I graduated from college with a Bachelor of Arts degree focusing in Media Studies over twenty years ago. My concentration was in Studio Art. I had a very different idea of where I would take that education but I am for all intent purposes happy with my life. I have tried to stay true to my awkward tune and pursue the creative life. I try to listen to others, read the works of folks with ranging perspectives and to get inspired by their words and worlds. I create cocktails and that is how I attempt to relate to stories and to people. It is also how I ask people to open their minds and consider my own perspective. For example, maybe consider drinking more sherry both by itself and in cocktails? That’s just one example, of course.

I remember now a project in one of my media classes. It was a group project. Our subject was the portrayal and analysis of terrorism in film and tv. We created an edited montage of video including scenes from True Lies, Patriot Games and other popular media including scenes from The Crow. That last bit brought on some discussion upon its airing to the rest of the class. After a montage of fictional Islamic and IRA dissidents, the underground cult gangster villainy, as well as the heroic other worldly vengeance of the hero in The Crow seemed confusing and led us to attempt to properly define the term terrorism. There are a few entries in the dictionary, as they have been updated over the centuries.

The definition of terrorism via Merriam-Webster first appeared in 1840 but its usage and understanding was first noticed and mentioned via the French, having been tied to around the 1790’s in depicting the Reign of Terror in France. Its first definition was “a state of being terrified, or a state impressing terror.”

Current broad definition:

: the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion

Legal Definition of terrorism:

1 : the unlawful use or threat of violence especially against the state or the public as a politically motivated means of attack or coercion

2 : violent and intimidating gang activity // street terrorism

“The second shift in meaning took place later: the use of terrorism without political connotation. It was used in this way in newspaper coverage of gangsters during the 1920s:“

CITY ASKS END OF 20 YEARS OF GUN TERRORISM HERE

— Chicago Tribune, 12 February 1926

SECRETS OF GANGDOM TERRORISM BARED

— Chicago Tribune, 4 July 1926

TERRORISM IN TEXAS OIL TOWN; RANGERS TO SCENE

— The Washington Post, 2 April 1927

“Indeed, Al Capone, the era’s most famous gangster of all, was clearly understood by the public to be a criminal rather than a person with political motives, yet his crimes were so extreme that they were referred to as terrorism. Regarded as the most important fact of all is this: Gangsters, by terrorism, vote stealing and bribery, swung a certain political faction into power and in return were given the privilege of operating gambling, vice and booze joints.“

— Chicago Tribune, 4 July 1926

That moment when you realize you are carrying a strong bias about an idea of which the only experience you have is with the media’s narrow portrayal, is always a touch unsettling. I recall, at first, defending the idea that terrorism was a political act, but then later widened my perspective on its definition. In The Crow, the undead hero gets the help of a renegade cop to take down the bad guys responsible for his fiancee’s brutal death as well as the power seat of the underground creepy-uber-villainous-worshipper-of-chaos-type gang leader. Truly, it’s hard not see the early inspirations of our modern Joker here. There’s a whole lot of violence and it is mostly of the kind that feels like sweet sweet vengeance. Also, the soundtrack is amazing. But what I’m really getting at…

…Righteous anger is really something. It can range from hating on the person who cuts the line without concern for others to the president of the country spreading lies to incite violence and sedition without a shred of remorse. It usually comes down to a basic principle of someone feeling they don’t have to follow the rules, that they are above everyone else. Really, there are many stops on the train of righteous anger. Now let us explore our natural desires for vengeance. When other people do terribly wrong and selfish things, and then get what they deserve, it’s like elation multiplied by a factor of ten opiates. It’s fuzzy math because it’s an indescribably feel good vibe that only lasts for a short time. And oftentimes, we come down from this high with a touch of shame. After all, any proper moralist knows not to wish ill upon others.

“He wrested lightning from the gods and their scepter from tyrants.” (P.168) – “Little” by Edward Carey
1.5 oz. Rebel Yell Rye, .75 oz. Punt Y Mes Vermouth, .75 oz. Rainwater Madeira, lemon oil

Of course, in a film or in a book, rooting for sweet vengeance isn’t real so we can often avoid the crashing of shame and guilt. Call it a loophole. In a film where the villain is truly awful, we are all quite fine with them getting shot, bound in a moving car towards an unforgiving body of water, killed off, etc. In our sad continuance of dumpster fire reality, however, no matter how villainous our main antagonist gets, wishing murder or death by assassin/avenging angel as a cure all just doesn’t sit well with our beliefs. Unless an unsummoned lightning bolt streaks from the sky and puts a contract out on that specific human, we just can’t quite feel alright with the situation. There’s always poetry, I suppose.

The universal Spirit guides; nor less,

When merciless ambition, or mad zeal,

Has led two hosts of dupes to battlefield,

That, blind, they there may dig each other’s graves,

And call the sad work glory, does it rule

All passions: not a thought, a will, an act,

No working of the tyrant’s moody mind,

Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boast

Their servitude to hide the shame they feel,

Nor the events enchaining every will,

That from the depths of unrecorded time

Have drawn all-influencing virtue, pass

Unrecogniz’d or unforeseen by thee,

Soul of the Universe! eternal spring

Of life and death, of happiness and woe,

Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene

That floats before our eyes in wavering light,

Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison,

    Whose chains and massy walls

    We feel, but cannot see.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Queen Mab IV”