Associations

Image association is a quality inherent in all forms of visual art. It is through association that we come to connect to an image. And the depth of association is the entire basis for defining the depth of connection as meaning.  Entire art movements have had a direct foundational basis in exploring the nature of association itself. Dada, and  Pop Art being obvious examples which explore and exploit association as subject in a deliberate manner , irrespective of differences in their theoretical or technical approaches. My own visual output, personal and commercial, relies entirely on association; Success or failure depends on my ability to achieve the intention of a specific motivating association.

 

Self Portrait   Copyright Emma G, 2008 

It is hard for me to single out an aspect of my own identity as well, that is completely devoid of associations. My trans gender identification relies significantly on associations, especially visually ones. These visual associations depend not only on my own perception of the associations, but also on the degree of adherence or variance they encounter in relation to culturally perceived associations. They are often taken from diverse and sometimes conflicting sources. Part of the process of discovery (or recovery) that most trans identified seem to go through. 

Marianna in Lisbon, Portugal does a regular ongoing series of postings on her blog exploring her own personal image associations that I enjoy a great deal. I thought it might be fun to offer my own variation on her theme.

 

Pinup, circa 1930s    Copyright,  Alberto Vargas (1896-1982)

 

 

Pinup: Self Portrait after Vargas   Copyright Emma G, 2008

Any associations, beyond an attempt to capture the stylistic and aesthetic concerns  that might have made Vargas’ work uniquely his own, I leave open: As being at best potentially marginal if unconsciously present. and not as any conscious intention of my own.

Empathy

The only experiences I can ever inhabit and access directly are my own. Empathy enables me to engage the experiences of others: Through a lens of observational comparison of similarities, commonalities and parallels or a lack thereof that are assessed for accuracy largely against my existing basis of my own direct experience. The greater the number of reference points I come to identify through empathy, the greater my engagement of another’s experiences through my empathy may potentially be. The greater my analogous identification is, the more potential exists for assuming a position of understanding.

It is the potency of this assumed position of understanding to permit connections of engagement that may lead me to a presumption of inhabiting the experience of others as a direct experience of my own. Connection, through the commonality of empathetic identification feels predominately beneficial to me. It provides a basis to commence personal interaction, eliminating the sense of personal isolation while increasing personal awareness. But it is incumbent on me to remember that empathetic, analogous identification to an experience is not equal to the direct experience that another inhabits. I cannot claim to inhabit the direct experiences of another as my own.  I have no actual basis to assign or impose a definitive value or validity to any empathetic identifications.  Access to such differentiation is appicable solely to my own actual direct experience.

Empathetic identification is a significant factor in helping to clarify for myself various dilemmas of being trans gender identified. It is often the sole external resource I can access or reference as a contrast for my own internal feelings.  Although I have always had some sense of what is normal in relation to myself specifically, without the addition of such empathetic identifications, the pressures applied by established normative standards against a specific individuated expression would become unbearable.

 

Tarot #15  (hard & digital mixed media painting)    Copyright Emma G, 2008

My direct experiences and their entailed feelings, do not present a clearly defined boundary of separation along gender lines. I would account for the majority of my internal experiences as being femininely focused. Empathetic identification plays substantially into this account. And rational thought raises further questions regarding the accuracy of internal perceptions achieved as contrasts against the existing normative gauge. A formal diagnosis has merely confirmed that my internal feelings are not an entirely irrational flaw. It has not resolved many outstanding questions of my own thought on rationality. And imposes a more strigent and restrictive demand for conformity to the existing normative standard in exchange.

Many of my external experiences however, were male bodied, irrespective of the apparent clarity of my own internal focus. Though such experiences often felt like surviving with imposed and involuntary biological limitations, the conflicted experiences themselves were sustained nonetheless, through participation.

My first experiences of my own sexuality were male bodied, yet internally conflicted experiences. My participation in such experiences (with either gender) was passively received, not self-initiated. A singular emphasis on purely physical gratifications, equally achievable through masturbation, provided nothing to sustain the repetition of such experiences.

It was largely through the degree of empathetic identifications I felt with females (and the lack of such with males) that my own sense of having any sexual preference was consciously concluded. Sexual gratification as a means of intimate connection could only hold additional significance for me with such identifications. Somewhat contradictorily, such empathetic identifications also often directed my relationships with females towards a role of confidant/best friend as the most productive and gratifying expression of mutual intimacy.

I initially came to regard my early expression of sexuality as bisexual solely because of the openness, as lack of preference, inherent in passive receptivity. I regard these experiences now as asexual; devoid of real connection to sexuality itself, of any kind.

Though it may be hard for me to admit, my own rational thinking applied to my experience of internal feelings can result at times in self-deceptive rationalizations. Biologically, I will never be female as that biological designation is normatively defined. I understand this as rational thought. Yet I continue to pursue an outward expression which attempts to convey such biological femininity (as ascribed by normative standards) necessitated by inner feelings/needs of disharmony, imbalance. There is no rational thought basis for restricting such expression of  these feelings/needs.

Without the empathetic identification of others, the best I will achieve through these expressions is to deceive that normative expectation in my relationships with people who subscribe to the validity of that normative definition. The efforts I exert to expand the options of my own personal gender expression may/will be variously perceived as appropriation, betrayal, subversion, perversion, delusion, deception,mimicry and even mockery when viewed against that normative standard. My expression of my gender is only marginally and minimally acceptable under the conditions of an imposed physical or mental disorder of abnormality.

The highest common denominator of our species, as I see it, is the potential through our empathy to acknowledge and allow access for variation in expressions of our individual humanity within our species. The lowest common denominator is that specific direct experience, focused solely on self-interests withoutl potential access by connection through empathy, can reduce each of us to a commonality of self-justifying fools.

 

Endless

 I have a strong personal need to feel that I am acting consciously and responsibly of my own violation volition. Satisfying this need can only occasionally be accomplished by the ego gratification of having made a popular correct choice, of having done the acceptable right thing. No single occurrence in my own experiences has ever felt completely clearly right, or wrong. To originate such judgments in myself always felt dependant on the exact particulars of an existing circumstance. Any ethical consideration I make always seems entirely dependant on how rationally conscious my participation of my own experience was, is. Belief for me, in anything, requires a great degree of my own conscious commitment to participation. It is, otherwise, merely lip service to external orders.

The need to actively experience this conscious participation has always made it difficult to accept any form of externally imposed limitation excluding choice; Whether the fulfillment of expectations presumed by others, the assignment of non consensual obligations in social situations, or mandated bias as requirement for conditional access to basic rights. Lacking both discretion and discernment in adolescence, I spent long periods in opposition to one or all of the above. In adulthood, I hoped things would be different. That a rational necessity for such imposed limitation would become clear through either knowledge or experience.

But that has not proved reasonably to be the case.

I suspect my experience of this consciousness necessity is often a similar need in others, for anyone attempting to express an individuated identity consciously.

 

Lost, With No Exit (hard & digital mixed media painting)  

Copyright Emma g, 2008

 

The lack of such consciousness, however, appears to be the primary underlying basis for the copious hostility contradictorily generated by applied /imposed labeling in most forms of identity politics. The process of “othering” can and does occur even though the underlying ethical foundation of an identity’s ideology is opposed to such separatist exclusion. Overwhelmed by emotion, in a moment of defense, reason may be subverted by the need to defend: Either be like the prevailing “us”, or be labeled the opposing “other” (them).

The effect of such labels on me personally is confined to the degree by which they inhibit or restrict my ability to exercise a primary conscious choice. Wearing makeup occasionally (1) and a skirt (2) as a trans gender (3) expression, though born white and male (4), may prohibit my access to the label feminist under certain identifications of that term on any of the numbered grounds. It does not inhibit my ability to implement in my life whatever I may find essential in the ideology that feminism contains. It does provoke certain questions: If we’re being unjustly crucified together, does it really matter who was nailed up first or what wood their cross is made from?

I consider myself a novice in my knowledge of the two areas of current activism that concern me most directly: Trans gender rights and feminism. I also consider myself to be at least competent in spotting obvious irrationalities in a dialogue attempting to convey a progression of thought on either subject.

Having spent much of this year in a pursuit of this knowledge to meet my personal needs in these areas, I feel disheartened by the lack of quality sometimes in the information available on line. The primary potential of the Internet for activism (as I perceive it) is its ability to provide a more immediate accessibility to information. I would hope that an additional potential for that information to be available unencumbered by bias, prejudgment, restriction, embellishment, fabrication and deceit might also be a plausible expectation of possibility.

 I maintain these rather naïve expectations. Even though it remains easier (and sometimes takes considerably less time) to order a book, read it and formulate my own conclusions than to differentiate fact from fiction in some of the activist postings on-line.

The work of seeking information doesn’t bother me, and I have no expectation that it should be easy. The seriousness of any concern requires an equally serious effort to extract options. I expect debate to be passionate; it is not worth the effort without personal investment and commitment. And I have no illusion that identity politics serve any purpose beyond a specific structure for the brokerage of power.

What I find disturbing is how the potential for sharing information toward collective empowerment so easily converts to blind fundamentalist propaganda, hysterical ranting, abusive name-calling, divisive self-interest, sensationalism, and arrogant egoism in the pursuit of exclusive personalized power directly in opposition to such collective empowerment. 

The inherent weakness of blogging such information is that it is a personal presentation. There are many blogs that do reportage, and many within that grouping that do so in as impartial a way as possible. They provide a meaningful resource for information that is usually scarce in mainstream media. And they collect it towards a specific activist necessity emphasis. 

There are also many personal blogs that attempt to provide information. They clearly project their personal nature, stating their perspective is personal, and stating that it is thus limited by their own experiences, feelings, and conclusions. This blog is, I hope, emulates that type of blog.

For me, the existence of these personal blogs has proven incredibly useful, precisely because of this personal quality. Diverse, personal blogs serve as a needed reminder; of the variation of human experiences that ought be considered in identifying my own empowerment needs. I cannot dismiss them wholesale because some aspect of an individual’s experiences might superficially appear to be in opposition to the current emphasis of my own identity agenda.

Like any other method for disseminating information, blogs allow the development of an individual persona to impart the information. Humor, satire, sarcasm, and confrontation can be used to personalize and enhance emphasis. intensifying the information conveyed. The danger, if the original intention is to convey useful information towards empowerment, however, is that personalization can also distort, corrupt and subvert the character of information itself through such embellishments and divert focus to the presenting persona. Might not the sincerity of motivation and honesty of that information then become questionable? Is the intention to empower others? Or is the intention to empower the persona itself?

Confrontation increases the risk of non delivery for information. And adds a potential for alienation. Character assassination and bullying qualify as destructive-only confrontation. It might be “entertaining” (if you find the whole whoever-versus-whatever-as-long-as-there-is-blood mentality entertaining) to watch assumed rational, intelligent people attempt to gnaw each other apart under the pretense of debate. What has that actually to do with active empowerment of anything but egos? Maybe I am missing a bigger picture? I though its all ready been endlessly proven that beating someone to death verbally won’t ever make you right. It will just make you more alone.

The frustration of looking for answers I feel I need to find often comes to: I waste time listening to offers of empty packages, wrapped in clever words, describing only how empty the packages really are.

The degree to which any identity can be incorporated into the functions of my individual life and the degree to which my empowerment is encompassed by its ideological structure, are the only important measures of its viability.

EDIT: Mispelling re Carolyn Ann in Comments

Try Again: Year One

Rewind: Can’t do that with my life.

Re-shoot: Can’t do that with my life.

Remake: Can’t do that with my life.

Remix: Can’t do that with my life

Try Again: I can still do that with my life.

A_ my partner, reads most of the posts I write (and the comments they receive too), without offering her opinion. Unless I specifically ask her for an opinion or advice, she is very respectful of non interference in anything I do creatively.  I realize that this is difficult for her at times, since her own nature leads her to discuss many of her own efforts with me. For her, it represents a channel for the intimacy and trust we can share. It is a significant gift, always, she gives me of herself: despite her own need, allowing me the time/space to work the idea through by myself as I need.

I often need to think through art/writing ideas “fully” first alone. Until that point when I feel the image/idea is defined, comments or suggestions (usually informed by anticipation of an expected direction) are distractions that disconnect my own engagement to the work.  But whenever I have uncertainties, I’m grateful I can include her in the process. 

 I showed her the previous post (after I’d finished writing it, before I clicked publish). Her comment: “Its good. I’ll have to read it again”  This phrase has become a euphemism for “I could say more, but you might not want to hear my opinion”.

“But?” I ask (I always do).

“Its very personal, but it doesn’t really communicate clearly exactly how you feel”

“Good Point” I thought as I clicked publish.

And her comment ricochets around my brain for the next night/half day.

 

Femme Soft Butch (Self Portrait)   Copyright Emma G, 2008

 

Try again: Year One.

Blogging isn’t what I thought it would be. Its often Less. And More.

It is Less of a connection than I hoped for. Its not a forum, so engagement is More difficult, More limited. More random and fleeting. Thoughts seem to stop or drop off mid-sentence. Post have self lives so short they’d never be “marketable” as any form of thought sustenance. They barely qualify as an idea snack.

I only have a vague sense of who reads what and when. The blog stats give me numbers: YOU HAVE received 22,759 views on 154 posts with 383 comments ( including my responses).  What’s that mean? Is it Good? Should I care? Can I use it on a credit application?

I have a slightly better sense of the people who comment, often because they have their own blogs and I can read more of their thoughts in depth. Some I’ve interacted with in a more meaningful way. Some I even feel have started to become friends.

It is More useful in understanding the various approaches others attempt to take in expressing their experiences of being outside the normative boxes. Mostly it is the alternative boxes I’d been concerned with, the ones in opposition to the imposed binary gender boxes. But that’s expanded a bit as well to include various human beings who get “othered” by a similar normative standard. Nearly any blog I visit has a blogroll leading to More thoughts and feelings I’ve come to identify within myself, thoughts I find useful. My own blogroll has quadrupled in just the last few months as a result.

 It is Less in the creative potential area and More restrictive. Much of which stems purely from my own lack of time. To really get what I’d ultimately like visually alone, I’d have to build the site myself. As a “packaged” site things turned out to be slightly More than I expected.

Its been More work to sort out what I want to write about, and how I want to write it. Being trans gender identified is not the only thing in my life. But there isn’t any part of my life, especially the parts that are necessary to day to day survival, that it doesn’t impact on or affect. So it filters through most, if not all of my thoughts in some way. That doesn’t require that I whine or whinge or rant in every post (maybe only every third or fourth would do?)

Its been Less simple and More challenging and confrontational than I expected. Regardless of how carefully I sort the thoughts, putting them into carefully chosen words doesn’t always make the meaning as apparent as I think it is.  I have to take ownership for the things I set down and put out, if I care about the writing. And sometimes I have to think it through again, even if my ego gets a bit bruised.

 Its taken the whole first year to sort out a simple frame of reference for what’s important for my self in writing. While trying various things out, I’ve let some things fall away, which I really wanted to sustain. Or found others which sometimes took their place. But I haven’t lost interest in the writing itself.

I felt pretty clear initially that my intention was to blog more as a journal, and invest more in the personal. That never meant just on an emotional level to me. My physical, real world journals, have never been even remotely linear narratives anyone else could read easily. They are accumulations that start on the first available page. And pause when all the available pages are full. Then I try again.  And that intention remains still fairly intact.

I’ll be here for awhile. Maybe some of you will be here too.

Year One

Last Wednesday, marked the one year point in the history of ”herstory”. 

A point, in honesty, I hadn’t really entertained an expectation of attaining. Not because I’m lazy, or self indulgent or habitually non committal. Not because sometimes I can be any/ all of the above. 

Because having such a point played no part of the point of the beginning, to begin with. It left me free, to reach whatever point I could arrive at, without anticipation or regret.

Fumbling, stumbling, clumsily tumbling across thin ice, day by day.

Changing, turning, listening, learning, talking along the way.

With words;

intense

incensed

untamed

inflamed.

Near enough (I felt at times) to the border of insane.

Symbols for the  meanings, I only sometimes manage to convey contained. 

 

 

Self Portrait   Copyright Emma G, 2008

 

I learned alot.

The scheme, of dream caught in between, 

as much about what I never  knew, as what I still remember or what I long forgot.

I stopped to pause, reclaim the cause, without need for an escaping clause. 

If purpose is the purpose, any purpose serves my own.

Receiving views, the daily news, I learned my cues, from hidden clues.

Finding always on review, an only fact left to extract;

the deck is stacked with non exacts, each time the dice are thrown.

Sometimes,

the page was simply unengaged.

A solo chant of private rants. 

A message mix I couldn’t fix.

“Flickr Babe/ Flickr Fav”   Copyright Emma G, 2007 & 2008

 

I let things go 

to take it slow.

 And learned once more, what I knew before…

That empty words are wingless birds

 that never fly before they die.

Without wings, they can never try.

 Without wings, they only lie.

Without the art to use my wings

I’m just another useless thing.

 

 

A single year,

some private tears.

 I’m still here just to spite the fear. 

 

(to be continued)