The word ‘autobiography’ was first used deprecatingly by William Taylor in 1797 in the English periodical the Monthly Review, when he suggested the word as a hybrid but condemned it as ‘pedantic’; but its next recorded use was in its present sense by Robert Southey in 1809. The form of autobiography however goes back to antiquity. Biographers generally rely on a wide variety of documents and viewpoints; an autobiography, however, may be based entirely on the writer’s memory.
Autobiographical works are by nature subjective. The inability — or unwillingness — of the author to accurately recall memories has in certain cases resulted in misleading or incorrect information. Some sociologists and psychologists have noted that autobiography offers the author the ability to recreate history.
From this blog
“Hugo Ball—poet, philosopher, novelist, cabaret performer, journalist, mystic—was a man extremely sensitive to the currents of his time and carried in their wake. In February 1916 he founded the Cabaret Voltaire in Zurich. The sound poems and performance art by Ball and the other artists who gathered there were the beginnings of Dada. Ball’s extraordinary diaries, one of the most significant products of the Dada movement, are here available in English, along with the original Dada manifesto and John Elderfield’s critical introduction, revised and updated for this edition, and a supplementary bibliography of Dada texts.”
No one has a good idea how the front and back images of a crucified man came to be on the cloth. No one has created images that match the chemistry, peculiar superficiality and profoundly mysterious three-dimensional information content of the images on the Shroud. Therefore, they compacted trash and recycling in a Stationary Compactor (there is an example on page 7). They put a ’tilt truck’ (see example on p.115) into a Cart Dumper (see example on p.120) of which there are two; one for trash and one for recycle. The two Cart Dumpers work by using a hydraulic arm to lift the tilt truck (through a ninety degree angle) dumping its contents into the compactor, to be crushed and compacted. Therefore, there are two photographs of the floor of The Cart Dumpers on p.27 and there are a two photographs of the Shroud of Turin on p.111. On p.45 the two photographs from page 27 are placed above the two photographs from p.111 (for a total of four photographs on one page). Therefore, they conclude (for now) that the Wear and Tear on the Floor of the Cart Dumpers and the two Images within the Shroud of Turin show the Front and Back of a scourged, crucified man. They said, “These hard times can last us so very long, If I ever get off this Killing Floor, I’ll never get down this low no more, and you say you had money, you better be sure, ‘Cause these hard times will drive you from door to door.” (After Skip James)
Recognition of the significance of speech acts has illuminated the ability of language to do other things than describe reality. In the process the boundaries among the philosophy of language, the philosophy of action, aesthetics, the philosophy of mind, political philosophy, and ethics have become less sharp. In addition, an appreciation of speech acts has helped lay bare a normative structure implicit in linguistic practice, including even that part of this practice concerned with describing reality.
Austin famously claimed that performatives are not statements (1962, p. 6). This may be taken either as the claim that performative sentences, even those in the indicative grammatical mood, lack truth value; or instead as the claim that utterances of performative sentences, even when such sentences have truth value, are not assertions. One can consistently hold that an indicative sentence has truth value, and even that it may be uttered in such a way as to say something true, while denying that its utterance is an assertion. (Testing a microphone in a windowless room, I utter, “It’s raining,” and it happens to be raining outside. Here I have said something true but have made no assertion.)
Lemmon 1962 argues that performative utterances are true on the ground that they are instances of a wider class of sentences whose utterance guarantees their truth. If sound, this argument would show that performatives have truth value, but not that they are assertions. It also leaves unanswered the question why some verb phrases such as ‘I promise’ may be used performatively while others cannot be so used. Sinnott-Armstrong 1994 also argues that performatives can have truth value without addressing the question whether they are also used to make assertions. Reimer 1995 argues that while performatives have truth values, they are not also assertions. Adopting a similar strategy, Jary 2007 aims to explain how utterances of such sentences as “I order you to clean the kitchen,” can succeed in being orders. In so doing he draws on Green’s 2007 analysis of showing to argue that such utterances show (rather than merely describe) the force of the speaker’s utterance. Because ‘show’ is factive, if such an utterance shows its force, then it must have that force.
Searle 1969 had argued that a performative formula such as “I promise to…” is an “illocutionary force indicator” in the sense that it is a device whose role is to make explicit the force of the speaker’s utterance. Making something explicit, however, would seem to involve characterizing an independent event or state of affairs, and as a result Searle’s account presupposes that speakers can imbue their utterances with the force of demotions and excommunications; yet this is what was to be explained.
One of the well known tie-ins to the Blade Runner film is the Blade Runner comic. It was issued in two volumes and a combined edition.
The Blade Runner comic is very interesting for its interpretation of the movie. Quite obviously, they can’t possibly do the same in a comic as in a 2 hour movie, so one expects that some dialogue will be trimmed or even slightly changed and details in the action will be curtailed or perhaps adjusted. One of the things I find most interesting is that some of those differences from the original movie version are referencing the shooting script! So, while there is some interpretation and a particular perspective present, it is in some ways almost like a different cut of the film.
The traveling survey of Agnes Martin’s work that debuted this summer at Tate Modern in London offers an opportunity to reconsider an artist who seems easy to know. Martin is generally pictured as a sage of the desert dispensing measured lines of graphite, pale paint and gnomic prose with ritual changelessness. In and around New York, she is perhaps best known as one of those select few whose work is semi-permanently enshrined at Dia:Beacon, high church of Minimalism and citadel against all forms of personal contingency. To lay out the narrative arc of Martin’s development, as the present exhibition does, is a welcome corrective.