A Woman Like That

Originally, I had a marvelous plan to do a post about feminism for Valentine’s Day. Clearly that didn’t happen, but for once I do not regret it. That Thursday, I had to attend a film for my “Thinking About Art” class. It was entitled “A Woman Like That” and had been screened at the Denver Art Museum the night before. We were lucky because the director, Ellen Weissbrod, was there to present her film, and there was a question and answer session and reception following the film. First, let me say that if you are so fortunate as to get the chance to see this film, you definitely should. The director’s distributing it herself, so you might not, but if you do you will not regret going.

The film is a documentary, and follows Weissbrod’s journey to tell the story of Artemisia Gentileschi, and also tells of the inspiration that Weissbrod takes from her. Who is Artemisia Gentileschi? It’s a shame so few people know the answer to that question. I didn’t, before I watched the film. Artemisia was a female Renaissance-Baroque painter of extraordinary talent, great notoriety during her time, and relatively little fame today. She had passion and determination, and I wish I had learned about her sooner. Her work is scarce and mostly lost, but what survives is beautiful. There is no doubt that she was just as good as her male contemporaries, although she suffered extreme discrimination because she was a woman trying to make a living at a man’s profession. However, Artemisia never gave up doing what she loved because of adversity; painting was her life and her heritage, and so she stayed the course and carved out a place in history.

While we learn Artemisia’s story, we follow the people she has touched and inspired. There’s a wealth of people who speak about the artist, from scholars and historians to high school students and regular people off the street. Owners of her work and Italian museum employees also make appearances, and it’s fascinating to hear what the world takes away from Artemisia. I wish a few more men had given their opinions in the film; they seemed quite underrepresented. As a film, “A Woman Like That” isn’t too bad. The beginning and the end are rather slow, but the middle is absolutely excellent. Weissbrod’s story of herself is tedious at times, and does not exactly explore new territory in terms of the Who Am I? narrative, but it’s a worthy addition and certainly helps to bring Artemisia out of the past. One of my favorite parts of the film was the groups of random women who had never met acting out scenes that Artemisia painted. Of particular note is the comparison between Caravaggio’s depiction of Judith slaying Holofernes (top) and Artemisia’s (bottom); acting out the scenes reveal how much more sense Artemisia’s painting makes.

I suppose what I take away from the film, Valentine’s Day, and the original post I had planned is that feminism is still very much necessary and important, and that it always has been. What feminist women are striving toward is to be like Artemisia – to have the right to do what we love, and by doing so contribute to the destruction of social barriers that keep women from being equal to men. Artemisia is a person who did that, and while she may not be especially famous or important in the grand scheme of art and history, she is invaluable as an inspiration to people of all stripes. Shouldn’t we all try to be women like that?

Never Let Me Go Review

4.5 stars
It’s difficult to articulate exactly what this book is to me, or how well-written it is. On the surface it’s a very simple story, and the plot is not exactly complicated. The best way to see is to read it for yourself. Perhaps its highest recommendation is that those snobs at CollegeBoard actually allow you to use this book for the open essay question, and that is almost a miracle. (And a rant for another day.)

Reading Never Let Me Go is similar to going to the optometrist. You go in and sit in the chair, and the eye doctor moves this enormous cold contraption in front of you and covers your eyes. At first you can’t see anything, and then there’s a click and a very blurred image of light. The doctor keeps clicking, switching lenses until he gets to where your eyes were the last time you visited, and that blurry image gets clearer and clearer until there it is, you see whatever’s in front of you. For those who have never had that particular experience, this book is also like a beautiful old masters Renaissance portrait. There is the painted person before you, but it’s not just them. There are layers upon layers upon layers of oil paint that color the person, until they look golden and warm and real like your roommate next to you. Certainly the person in the portrait would be the same person without the layers, but the layers are what really make the painting art. They color your interpretation of the person so that it’s not just some random person on the canvas, it’s that person beyond a doubt.

The point that I’m attempting to make is that Never Let Me Go is a wonderful book that you have to appreciate the depth of. No, the plot is not complex, but that’s not the point. This is a character book. An event or conversation will be set up, and then Ishiguro will take you back and relate several other stories that happened before. When you get back to the original event and read it, you have a different understanding, and you can see all the factors that went into how the event unfolded. It’s a beautiful way to write a book.

Furthermore, while I would not call this book a page turner, it nags you. There’s something you don’t get. You sort of figure it out, and you’re fed little tidbits along the way. As one Guardian puts it to the Hailsham students “You’re told and not told.” And so you keep reading. At the end, what you think is confirmed. However, it’s not the confirmation you expect; it’s exactly what you thought but there’s a sickening thud because it came at you in a very unexpected way. I would have liked to see a bit more of the dystopian element that’s hinted at, but at the same time this would be a very different book if that were there.

I write all this about the experience of reading Never Let Me Go because I think the experience is half of what makes this book so good. It’s the way it’s written and the way you figure things out that make what is a relatively ordinary story transcend mediocrity and teach you things that you always knew but never realized about people. And that, too, is part of what makes this book so good: the people. The characters are wonderfully vivid and hopelessly flawed, and you love them and hate them because you know them. Ruth is a fantastic example of this: she is authoritative, almost ethereal at times, selfish, vain, creative, funny, but always Kathy’s friend.

Finally, one quick note about Ken Ishiguro’s writing. It’s lovely. It’s beautiful and evocative and clear, like reading nostalgic poetry. That’s the other part of what makes the book so good, because the author can transform the most normal scenes into the most gorgeous prose.

Truly, it’s impossible to get a sense of this book from a review, and you should really just read it for yourself.

This review may also be found here on Goodreads.

New Year's Resolution

I am a terrible, negligent, lazy blogger. I know this. You know this. I haven’t posted in more than six months. It’s pathetic. I could tell you that I was swallowed by college, that I actually turned into a semi-decent student, or any number of other excuses. The truth is, I simply haven’t prioritized this blog like I should have, and that is a problem.

However, I have a solution! I’ve made a (very belated) new year’s resolution. Normally I don’t believe in these things. I think they’re silly and mostly unrealistic, and that if you’re serious about something then you should start it when you get the idea. Don’t make excuses by waiting for the calendar. But this year, I actually had a good idea: I should make my blog a priority and try to post twice a month, every month. Once a week is never going to happen, and once a month doesn’t make much of a change. Of course, it’s February now and I’m already two posts behind, so I’m going to try to squeeze January into this month’s quota. We’ll see how that works out.

If I may make an excuse, I do think that part of my problem with posting is that I’m a perfectionist and have too many quality standards for myself. I get half a post written and it’s a page long, and then…I don’t finish it. Or I get an idea and do lots of research but…I want the post to be special and really good, and long too. From now on, I’m going to try to post more frequently even if that means what I write is slightly sillier and less informational…and mostly shorter.

If you’re wondering, I do make a lot of plans for posts. I’ve been meaning to write a political one about SOPA and ACTA since October, and even though the results are mostly in I probably still will. I may write more about costuming/sewing, or events I go to, and there will probably be a lot more reviews. As long as I’m putting things up.

There’s not much else to say, except, um, Happy New Year?