Apologies for the lateness of this entry! 
Three words response (sorry I know it's more than three)
1) An empty sheet of photographic paper.
2) Wrenched
3) Vulnerable
Darkroom a memoir in black & white
 in its very title sets us up to enter a world powerfully, painfully, 
violently divided by racism and the Civil Rights Movement as it courses 
around and through the home/town, family and body of Lila Quintero 
Weaver; complicated frequently by the challenges she and family confront
 as Argentinian immigrants in a place so very Black and white. The 
content approached in this memoir, most similarly to Persepolis I & II, strives
 to knit together a conversational narrative that moves between Quintero
 Weaver's personal experiences and the sociopolitical dynamics that 
surrounded her childhood and adolescence.
One of the elements I was most struck by in this work was the way in
 which Quintero Weaver uses literal and figurative illustrations in 
conversation and juxtaposition. By literal illustrations I mean the 
lifelike/photographic drawing 
techniques that Quintero Weaver employs to depict the majority of the 
scenes included in this graphic memoir, where the images functioning as a
 direct translation of the words.  By figurative illustration I mean 
images that offer a 
metaphorical translation of the text in key moments to eke out language 
to:  
1) emphasize the profound imprinting a moment/experience rendered on Quintero Weaver's consciousness/sense of self/community
2) focus the reader's emotional response (this is particularly salient 
as the text itself is rendered so un-sentimentally often with few direct
 access points to the internal register of the characters depicted)
3)
 to give visual record of the sometimes unnameable - which is 
particularly powerful because so many elements of the process of 
migration, of being strung between two worlds, languages, codes, of 
existing in a liminal space between in a society framed in binaries, and
 the upheaval of a society in unpredictable flux against systemic 
oppression are experiences that rest on the margins beyond words. 
Given that Quintero Weaver's artwork is so lifelike in 
quality, these moments of figurative disruption do a great deal of work.
 Here are some of the moments that I noted post powerfully:
1) On
 page 25 she offers a strip of developed film, the frames of which 
alternate between photos and white space. It is here that she introduces
 the role of white space in the text as a visual sign signifying what 
lives only in memory - for which the documentation, even if it does 
exist, does not do justice to the event. "Of course nobody at all got a 
shot of what happened just one block from our house on February 18, 
1965. Our closest brush with history."
2) In recounting her 
migration journey she writes, "Much I have forgotten... but not the long
 flight" (30-31) to which she matches a full page panels of the globe 
with a disproportionately sized airplane moving flying from South 
America to North emphasizing the deep psychic imprinting of this journey
 for which there is no documentation other than her passport. 
3)
 On page 50 she introduces us to her process of learning English, the 
words coming out of the teacher's mouth are symbolized as lines with no 
distinct meaning, which communicates to us the profound disorientation 
in language. She brings this sign back later on page 115 when she is 
describing her father's process of teaching himself to read. 
4) 
On pages 52 and 53 she uses unfilled-in line drawings in combination 
with fully rendered images. This happens frequently throughout the work 
and I've given a lot of thought as to whether there is a consistent 
purpose in these moments. In this moment Quintero Weaver is expressing 
her humiliation regarding her parents public use of Spanish - and in 
this image she and her family are fully rendered while the background 
figures are in line drawing. What this illustration communicates 
figuratively is the way in which she felt exposed, visible, vulnerable, 
and very separate from the dominant white culture she wanted so badly to
 "blend into" (the title of this chapter).
5) On page 97 Quintero
 Weaver's father attempts to bring the Black church choir to the white 
church. In the top panel again we have a mixture of line drawings in the
 foreground with fully rendered images in the background. The line 
drawings depict the the white church goers responding with horrified 
racism to her father. This illustrative strategy at this point in the 
text does a number of things: we see (again) in a profoundly visual 
manner the way in which these white churchgoers conceptualize themselves
 as separate from Black coir members (the Black people rendered in this 
frame are in the background, filled-in and much more lifelike); it 
forces us to confront the stark violence of this situation, 
demonstrating the dehumanization taking place; it requires us to see and
 consider this moment in a very separate manner, which is key to the 
building momentum of the narrative she is constructing.
6) On 
page 112 we see the ways family stories gathered a cinematic quality for
 Quintero Weaver as a child - where in the second frame she is not 
simply depicting the story her father is sharing, but has placed herself
 directly within it - demonstrating the way in which she is immersed in 
her father's memory.
7) On page 117 she depicts Argentina as a a 
piece of beef to introduce us to Argentine cuisine in opposition to 
Southern cuisine.
8) To emphasize the magnitude of what occurred 
in Selma on March 7th, 1965 she offers a two-page panel on pages 176 - 
177 writing "At last the world saw" depicting disproportionately sized 
newspapers orbiting the globe in space.
9) Skipping way ahead to 
page 241 she demonstrates the way in which the ties that kept her 
dislocated family connected with those they had left behind in Argentina
 was through her mother's diligent letter-writing. In the first framed 
panel on this page we see her mother sitting on the top of a globe at a 
desk with a typewriter "tap tap tapping" out letters that descend from 
her position on the globe downwards.
There are so many more examples. 
What all of this emphasizes (in part) are the ways in which this highly visual text is wrestles with: 
1)
 how we can memorialize in image things that we may not have seen/have 
no visual documentation of but must and do remember; and
2) how the 
crystallization of truth sometimes happens most powerfully through 
figurative renderings that focus our attention on the 
obscene/grotesque/disappointing/unimaginable/magical things that live 
everyday in our midst
Looking forward to the discussion tomorrow.
mia
Super curation of the figurative examples. Yes, the contrast of literal and figurative was a nice balance, as the present/ living and the past/photos were too...
ReplyDeleteYes, I agree, very good analysis of the quality of the visual images. It's interesting because even in her drawings she doesn't veer from what's photographically true--She is not abstract or distorted--she lets the truth come from renderings that are difficult to interpret.
ReplyDeletedon't need much language then
e
Great post, Mia. I was captured by a line in your first example, "It is here that she introduces the role of white space in the text as a visual sign signifying what lives only in memory - for which the documentation, even if it does exist, does not do justice to the event." White and/or negative space does a lot of work in Darkroom, it calls to mind the use of the unsaid in textual books. The white space implies a memory and evokes unsaid/uncaptured emotion in a powerful, dream-like manner.
ReplyDelete