Sunday, September 6, 2015

ISIS, Isis, and George Orwell

Isis


Baalshemin being blown up
            Some time within the last month, members of ISIS (or ISIL), the big group that intends to establish a new Caliphate in Iraq and Syria, systematically mined and blew up the ancient Temple of Baalshamin in Palmyra. Last weekend they also blew up the Temple of Bel at the same location. Palmyra had been an important trading city in the ancient world, and was designated as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.  ISIS also demolished two Muslim shrines, one Shia, the other Sufi.  To top things off, they beheaded the retired local chief archeologist and historian, Khalid al-Asaad, who as a scholarly autodidact, had devoted his life to the study of the venerable city.  According to the New York Times report, ISIS branded Asaad as “an apostate…” and the “director of idolatry” and accused him of “presenting papers at infidel conferences.”  In other sites, such as Ninevah and Nimrud in Iraq, ISIS also blew up ancient buildings and smashed ancient images in local museums after looting them to sell off valuable pieces.
 
The Late Khalil al Asaad
            To make their caliphate work, it is apparently vital to trash everything that doesn’t fit with ISIS’s narrow parameters.  Idolatry is certainly against Islamic law—as it is to Jewish Orthodoxy.  The original intent here was to make the public statement that images, big or small, are not to be worshipped as gods, as there is only one immaterial One, who lives somewhere in the heavens.  But the gods –and any images once worshipped at the Bel and Baalshamin temples are long gone, and no one seems to have the least intention of reviving them.  In the Islamic, Christian and Jewish religions, the notion of a sole God has been irreparably established for a very long time.

            Why destroy dead idols, as ISIS has done in museums—at least those they couldn’t cynically sell to raise money for weapons?  The idea of destroying Muslim shrines dedicated to groups that fall outside ISIS’s canon, as well as the slaughtering of groups considered “the other,” like Yezidis, or Christians, has a longer history and way beyond and before Islam. As a matter of fact, building your place of worship right on top of the one of your defeated foe has a very long tradition: for example, the site of the Cathedral of Seville in Spain was originally occupied by a Roman Temple (or maybe some other cult even earlier), then became a Visigothic cathedral, then the city’s major Mosque, and since the 13th century, the world’s second-biggest Catholic church. 

            But is ISIS planning to build big mosques on the sites of the Palmyra temples?  And why kill an archeologist-art historian, and a Muslim one at that?  If all of us art historians were condemned for studying, documenting and preserving old sites, is it carte blanche to remove not only the sites, but those who wrote about them? Does this make me a target for blasphemy and assassination for what I’m writing here?

            ISIS is probably aware that its acronym (in the United States at least) is synonymous with one of the most powerful of ancient Egyptian goddesses. (Maybe that’s why they prefer “ISIL” or “Islamic State.”)

It’s interesting to compare the destructive activities of ISIS with another time of looting of targeted sites: the Spanish Civil War. When, on July 18th, 1936, General Francisco Franco and his allies staged a coup d’état, overthrowing the existing Republican government, it set off riots all over the country.  The Republic had been an uneasy coalition of worker’s groups, anarchists, Communists, Stalinist, Marxist or Trotskyite, liberals, and strong regional factions in a very diverse country.  It not only marked the beginning of a three-year civil war, but in its initial stages, it was a free-for all of all those republican groups on the left versus Monarchists, Carlists, rich landowners, mine owners and plutocrats on the right, as well as the Catholic church in general, which was hated for its enduring conservatism

Who got attacked depended of where you were.  Churches and convents were set on fire and looted of their considerable treasures everywhere.  In the Andalusian south, Landowners who owned most of the arable land and often treated agricultural workers like serfs were the targets.  In the northwest in Asturias, it was mine-owners, while in the Basque provinces and Catalonia, it was mixed in with separatism.  In Catalonia, it was rich industrialists who owned factories where disgruntled workers were organizing.  In some places in the same region, socialists, Communists, Anarcho-Syndicalists and other leftist groups fought each other, so that in Barcelona, far from the actual battlefront during the first years of the war, there was a civil war within a civil war.

All of this is way too complicated to analyze here, and your writer is just an Art Historian, but I think I can say that at that moment, a decade before the activities of the “Monuments Men,” art enthusiasts organized themselves and acted like a federation of workers with a purpose.  In Barcelona, both the systematic rescue of objects from damaged sites and items brought in by spontaneous individual and small groups was carried out, consolidated and catalogued by museum, academic and library personnel working for the Catalan republican government.  The rescuers fanned out to the towns and villages, trying to convince local revolutionaries to convert churches to garages or meeting halls, rather than just destroying them.
Apel.les Fenosa


The Retablo of Lanaja as it was
            But issues can become clouded and arguments difficult, the further away sites were from the cultured coast and nearer to the actual front.  The Barcelona sculptor Apel.les Fenosa, fighting with a republican militia company in central Aragon, worked furiously in whatever spare time he had in the area to salvage works, and often met with outright hostility;

“It’s thankless work, and the People don’t understand it.  One    day they will kill me, confusing me with a robber, as a profiteer of pillage. Ingrates because they are guilty of not understanding.  Ingrates because they are guilty of bad faith and ingrates by those that know how much all of this is worth, without having done anything to save it, and when they see it saved, they accuse you of being a thief and vampire of the population.”

The locals believed that they were being patronized by city folks who didn’t  understand the dire living situation imposed by a poorer economy in the line of battle.  In the small town of Lanaja was a church that the locals had attacked.  When Fenosa arrived there, they were cutting up pews for firewoods.  They were also cutting up centuries-old wooden altarpieces for the same purpose:

Panel from Lanaja Retablo just after rescue
“I found a formidable retablo, thirty feet high, which they had dismantled piled up in the committee courtyard. They wanted to use it for heating fires in the winter…” 
Same panel, restored and rehabilitated

They offered to trade the dismantled altarpiece for a truck, which Fenosa and his companions didn’t have, and so the would-be rescuers had to leave most of it behind (they managed to rescue three painted panels, in bad shape, which they sent on to Barcelona, restored after the war, and eventually sent back to a museum in Aragon).


But when do aesthetics trump human desperation?  Fighting with a Marxist militia company in the same region, the British writer George Orwell vividly described local conditions for soldier and civilian alike:

George Orwell
“[Yet] I believe that even in peacetime you could not travel in that part of Spain without being struck by the peculiar squalid misery of the Aragonese villages. They are built like fortresses, a mass of mean little houses of mud and stone huddling round the church, and even in spring you see hardly a flower anywhere; the houses have no gardens, only back-yards where ragged fowls skate over the beds of mule-dung”

Firewood was the one thing that really mattered…..When we were not eating, sleeping, on guard, or on fatigue-duty we were in the valley behind the position, scrounging for fuel. All my memories of that time are memories of scrambling up and down the almost perpendicular slopes, over the jagged limestone that knocked one's boots to pieces, pouncing eagerly on tiny twigs of wood. Three people searching for a couple of hours could collect enough fuel to keep the dug-out fire alight for about an hour.”

            All of that ready wood in those gigantic altarpieces, not in very good condition at that time at any rate, certainly was a temptation when freezing to death was the alternative.

            When does what we call “Art” cease to be important for its own sake, when are its component materials are worth more than the finished project (except in the eyes of a cultured minority)?  In the case of Palmyra and a good deal of the educated world in this time of mass-media and instant communication of events, such destruction, not only carried out, but publicized by its perpetrators, seems inexcusable and tragic, particularly when they are at a remote site, and revered as past history, representing as they do now defunct religions or empires.  The looting and selling of portable objects is unpalatable but more understandable.  Since the ancient looting of the ancient pyramids in Egypt, moveable objects are easily carried off and fenced, whether as in the case of ISIS its revenue will be used to buy arms, or for petty criminals, a quick buck.

            In the case of Spain in 1936, the looting and destruction was a more or less spontaneous manifestation of the uprising.  In the case of ISIS, destruction is intentional, planned, and in their eyes a manifestation of their narrow, very black-and-white ideology, which spans both space and time.  If they triumph in their Caliphate, all culture will be a very narrow, mostly black-and-white corridor of faith---their's.
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About the killing of Khalid al Asaad:


http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/aug/18/isis-beheads-archaeologist-syria

An overview of the complicated situation in Republican Spain in the 1930's: 
Stanley G. Payne, Spain’s First Democracy.  The Second republic 1931-1936,  Seattle, University of Wisconsin Press, 1993. (p. 30)

Apel.les Fenosa is quoted: (in Catalan)
“Catalunya ha salvat a Aragó un trésor artistic,” Mirador. Setmanari de Literatura, Art i Politica, Any VIII Núm 397, Barcelona, dijous, 3 desembre 1936 (segona epoca), pp.8-7.
http://ddd.uab.cat/pub/mirador/mirador_a1936m12n397.pdf  Mirador

George Orwell's account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War can be found online at:
 Homage to Catalonia: http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks02/0201111.txt




Thursday, July 23, 2015

Darth Vader and the Sylphide, Part Deux

                                                             II: Darth Vader (1977)


Iconic Darth


Last week at the Comic Con convention in San Diego, preview a clip for the newest film in the Star Wars collection was shown, and (surprise!) the three best-known surviving stars of the original 1977 film (Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford) made an unannounced appearance to hysterical acclaim.  Even better, they will reappear in the new epic, along with other stars of the first film.
Then
Now




If I certainly wasn’t around for the opening performance of La Sylphide, in 1832, I did see Star Wars with friends the weekend it opened in San Antonio in 1977.  From the first opening scroll to the giving of the final medal, we were completely entranced.  The vividness and fast pace of the action, the sweeping sense of sheer adventure and quirky fun, real heroes and villains and the battered world of that galaxy “a long time ago and far, far away,” swept us into a complete and gleeful suspension of disbelief, and just let us be carried along.  John Williams’ exciting score helped too, with its echoes of Holst’s The Planets and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring amalgamated into its own originality enhanced the action.   When, regretfully it was over, we all bounced out of the theater, high as kites—or spaceships.


Like la Sylphide, Star Wars arrived at a moment in popular culture when the audience was ready for it.  After all, otherworldly nymphs had been wafting around story lines long before The Sylph ever floated by, but it was the supernatural in that exotic Scottish setting and Doomed Love that resonated with the audience caught up in Romanticism.  For us, science fiction and fantasy had already existed for 80 years or more.  Both George Lukas and I had grown up with the klunky Flash Gordon serials, made in the mid 1930’s on the cheap with recycled sets, blimp-shaped rocket ships spewing exhaust and reused costumes from second-rate movie musicals, seen 20 years after their creation on ten-inch TV screens.  The first Star Trek series had already come and gone as well, not to mention Kubrick’s acid-tripping 2001, a Space Odyssey.  But Lukas, over a period of four years, had created a visually rich and very accessible space world at a moment when the digital age and all its possibilities and overkill hadn’t yet arrived. 

Reviews contemporary with the 1977 premier reflected an almost universal (forgive the pun) intoxication. Vincent Canby of the New York Times, after summarizing the plot said:

That's about all the plot that anyone of voting age should be required to keep track of. The story of "Star Wars" could be written on the head of a pin and still leave room for the Bible. It is, rather, a breathless succession of escapes, pursuits, dangerous missions, unexpected encounters, with each one ending in some kind of defeat until the final one.

The initial movie became  the first of a trilogy, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi continuing the story, a sort of cinematic Ring Cycle, Wagner more than Tolkien.  Not leaving well enough alone, three more films were made, prequels to the first three, putting the original Star Wars as episode IV.  These three, necessarily with different casts, over-explained the Jedi story and Anniken Skywalker’s fall from grace and metamorphosis into Darth Vader.  With newer digitization techniques, all sorts of magic became effortless—and for me, it was certainly overkill and very forgettable—like so many Sylphide knockoffs.  And of course all of them, like La Sylphide, generated all sorts of Star Wars commercial paraphernalia, on a far greater level, due to all of the improvements to mass media.

The first Star Wars was actually a great stand-alone film, and has influenced the science-fantasy world to this day.  Like La Sylphide, serious scholars of popular culture, as well as religion and philosophy have endlessly dissected it, and like La Sylphide’s scholarly literature, basically dehydrating the miracle in the process.

Princess Leia of Alderaan
For the rest of us, we can delight in Lukas’s archetypes, but not explore it too deeply (has anybody noticed, for example, that Princess Leia’s hairdo echoes an earlier powerful heroine’s—Ozma of Oz)?  The heroes are all recognizable in type, even the bots, priggish R2-D2 and that wonderful garbage-can computer C-3PO.  And what about our favorite Wookie—an extraterrestrial who looks like an amalgamated lion, chow dog and great ape?  And then, there are all of those critters in the famous bar scene.  On the other hand, the villains of The Empire, with their gray-black uniforms and the anonymous white troopers certainly invoke all-too human Nazis.  Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Princess Laia are all humans too, and so is the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobe.  There’s just enough human population here for us to identify with, mixed with those crazy extraterrestrials to make this film appealing to us humans.  Once again, this is similar to all those Scots in La Sylphide versus the Sylph and her companions.  The fascination of both is that we’re suspended between the familiar and the fantastic.
 
Princess Ozma of Oz
And then there’s my favorite villain, Darth Vader.  His appearance, all black, implied massiveness (though human in scale) made monolithic by his black cloak and his both fly-like and skull-like mask, and that wonderfully wheezing and menacing voice! It took three humans to produce this character, the body, provided by David Prowse, the lightsaber fighter by Bob Anderson, and the raspy voice by James Earl Jones (uncredited in the initial movie), plus costume designers and other production folk. All the “human” actors merely needed stunt-doubles.

Vader evolves through the other films in the series —indeed as everyone who follows Star Wars in all of its manifestations knows, how Aniken Skywalker, Jedi knight, went over to the dark side and became Darth Vader (and a cyborg, no less), is the theme of the Prequel.

But in the initial film, Vader is a stand-alone figure, a former Jedi master with the Force still with him, and already tragic.  He is a space-age equivalent of a World War I – era Prussian General, imbued with an older chivalry of war, who lives long enough to become a Nazi, but is clearly uncomfortable within the New Order.  In short, a formidable foe for Obi-Wan Kenobe and Luke Skywalker.
 
Darth Vader and Other Neighboring Gargoyles
            Darth Vader’s mythic status has been elevated to the world of art as well: he is one of the gargoyle figures added to the Washington National Cathedral in the 1980’s (and they sell his bobble-head in the gift shop).  He has become as universal a figure in black for the 20th and 21st century as the Sylphide was in white during the mid-1800’s.
 
Darth Vader as Bobblehead
            We can’t recreate the initial euphoria and wonder we had in 1977, not only are we older perhaps more jaded now and over-bombarded with CGI images, but the film itself has changed.  George Lukas modified it somewhat and added digital footage in 1997 and tweaked it further later on, partly because of new technologies, but partly to synchronize better with the succeeding episodes.

            Meanwhile, the iconic Darth Vader mask has been immortalized on the Cathedral, and it keeps serving as a model-type for other fantasies: just have a look at the costume of Ant Man, a film that debuted last week!
 
Ant-Man!?

            In the original Star Wars, George Lukas took universal fantasies and contextualized them for the 1977 world, much as Filippo Taglioni did for the romantic imagination of 1832, and both emblems for their times.  Can the upcoming Star Wars VII bring any of that initial magic back?  If so, it will have to satisfy both the 2015 mindset and the nostalgia for the 1970’s--pretty much what Laclotte tried for in his 20th century Sylphide reconstruction.

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Some Sources:

Wikipedia has an excellent article on Star Wars: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_%28film%29

For an old original episode of Flash Gordon see:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1MOvthQYz4

Vincent Canby's 1977 review in the New York Times is at: http://www.nytimes.com/1977/05/26/movies/moviesspecial/26STAR.html?_r=0

A complete study of the changes that George Lukas made to Star Wars when it was rereleased and made into Episode IV can be found at: http://www.movie-censorship.com/report.php?ID=4334040