Sunday, September 21, 2008

O'Neill's Presence in Long Day's Journey into Night

For several hundred years, when artists such as Raphael began subtly inserting their self-portraits into their works, art and literature have become a means of self portrayal and self- expression. From Charlotte Bronte to James Joyce, literary figures of every background masterfully project aspects of their lives’ onto those of their characters. As authors have developed such clever methods of placing autobiographical aspects in their works, they may, as in Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night, never actualize in the form of one single character. Rather, as O’Neill displays, authors may project certain aspects of their background or beliefs onto several characters, creating a subtle autobiography which often eludes readers at first glance. Though O’Neill never appears in his work as a specific character, elements of every character culminate in the creation of a sort of “fifth Tyrone”- the author himself (Mann).

O’Neill sets the play in 1912, the year he left home and entered a sanatorium to begin recovery from tuberculosis, as well as the year in which he began his writing career. These elements of O’Neill’s younger self manifest themselves in the character of Edmund, and though he alone fails to holistically depict aspects of O’Neill’s life, Edmund successfully represents the young O’Neill, hurt and haunted by his own family’s arguments and substance abuse. As Edmund undergoes numerous epiphanies throughout the work, he begins to understand the reasons behind his family’s guilt and anger. Yet he remains ignorant to the realization that his sufferings and the failures of his family members have prepared him for success in the future. Though Edmund mimics the feelings experienced by the young O’Neill, he is limited only to these, and as he remains ignorant and naive, the playwright turns to another presence, identified in the work as the unseen narrator, in order to depict the transition from his younger self to an older, more experienced man. 

In his dedication of the work, O’Neill reveals that he wrote the play with “deep pity and understanding and forgiveness for all the four haunted Tyrones.”  This image of O’Neill as an older, wiser, more mature, compassionate figure manifests itself in the voice of the narrator. Through this presence O’Neill allows himself to reflect on the past, now regarding his family members as victims of fate, a perspective unavailable to his younger, unforgiving self. Though the narrator remains distant and unseen throughout the work, his omnipresence allows O’Neill to see things from every point of view, ultimately realizing his family’s contributions to his success as a writer. It is in this realization that numerous parallels are drawn between the playwright’s life and the lives of his characters. In James, the sold-out failure of an actor, representative of his own father, O’Neill learns a lesson in artistic integrity and uncompromising standards. From his self-destructive brother, manifested in the character of Jamie, came O’Neill’s introduction to the writers and poets who ultimately influenced his own works. Finally, from Mary Tyrone, a portrait of O’Neill’s mother, the playwright learns the lesson on which he centers his entire play: the lonely, painful nature of our flawed humanity.  

Though O’Neill travelled through much of his life troubled and tormented, blaming and resenting his family, transitions and revelations within his work Long Day’s Journey into Night, allowed him to emerge from the past with a grateful understanding, and at least a shred of hope for the future. By injecting this positive aspect of his life into the work and ending the play on a relatively unresolved note, Eugene O’Neill hints to his readers that there quite possibly may be a light at the end of their long, hopeless journey into night. 

Mann, Bruce. “O’Neill’s ‘Presence’ in Long Day’s Journey into Night.”  Drama Criticism. Vol. 20. Detroit: Gale, 2003. Literature Resource Center. Gale. Lee County Library System. 7 Sept. 2008

Friday, September 19, 2008

SCAD essay

In the midst of a chaotic life, an interesting young girl, passionate and creative, found peace when she picked me up and looked through my lens. Something just clicked, resting there in her hands, eyes squinted and pressed up to the viewfinder. In that moment, she and I both found something we had been searching for: solace. From that point on everything was history. I evolved with technology, and she grew up along side of me. I witnessed her past and will accompany her into the future. I am  Hillary Gunder’s camera, her third eye.

I was there from day one, making memories, recording events of her life.  The viewfinder allowed her to see things first in vivacious color, then in black and white. I watched as she began taking events from her life, faith, and family, attempting to divide them along two distinct lines, stumbling through the cloudy gray areas before realizing that life isn’t so easily categorized by right and wrong. She searched for stability whenever she looked through that viewfinder, working in the darkroom during whatever free time she could gather, the only place she was ever free to figure things out. This girl found a shred of individuality amidst the conformity of a homogeneous private school population. She began developing a unique vision of her own. 

Dedicated, hardworking, and involved, this aspiring artist often unwillingly sets me aside to devote attention to other commitments. But she always comes back to me, my strap around her neck, lens cap in her back pocket, toting me along wherever she goes. She sees the world through one giant viewfinder, the shutter opening and closing as she blinks to take it all in. She finds herself analyzing angles, light, focal points and depth of field. Her eye is drawn toward intricate details, specific parts rather than the whole. Quirky little things- a clothesline, a doorknob- stop her in her path as the rest of the world carries on, unaware of this magical find. Her stacks of photographs might appear a conglomeration of random objects, yet in every one she can pinpoint something that caused her to pull me to her face and shoot the photo. Her vision, this need to highlight things that often go overlooked, will carry this girl far into her future. She dreams of becoming a photojournalist, a freelance photographer, anything that will allow her to see and change the world. She wants to record for eternity the people, places, events that go unnoticed. Maybe one day her work will cause people to see things as she sees them, for how they really are. 

For now, I’ll be content accompanying her through the remainder of high school, to Savannah College of Art and Design, into the professional world. She’ll flutter from place to place with freedom and artistic license. She’ll enjoy herself, loving every minute of every day. We’re quite an unassuming duo, a young, energetic artist and her beloved camera. But together we’ll change the world.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

lost in translation

I sit here, my mind wanders, my eyes follow
     I wonder if anyone notices how transparent we are-
Like jellyfish in a sea of emotion.
     We cling together, fall apart
Magnets- attracting, repelling.

Maybe this comfortable life vest of acceptance
     keeps us from floating free. independent
Maybe we've been numbed of all feeling by
     instant communication @ the touch of a button
Maybe we're all a little lost in translation
     misunderstood, distant
Maybe we live too much in daydreams
     staring out the window, white clouds of hope
Maybe we spend too much time trying
     to grab the rope that dangles out of reach
Maybe we babble so much about maybes
     that we forget the point we wanted to make

So we wander these halls, lost in translation.