The Language of Representation

(This post is a response to the online module “Representing Reproduction: Popular and Political Narratives”.)

What struck me most about this exploration of the way in which biopolitics generally and the abortion debate specifically are represented, was that the module – particularly Heather Latimer’s writings – noted that not only is the presence of representation important, but also significant is the means of representation, namely the language and terms used.

Latimer notes that the language of reproductive representation and discussion has carried over from abortion debates of the 1980s. “Freedom”, “choice”, and “privacy” have been words around which to structure pro-choice advocacy (though Latimer notes their potential to also be employed in denying women abortion rights). Even terms such as “pro-choice” and “pro-life” are similar carryovers and our continued attachment to these specific words facilitates a continued understanding of the debate as consisting of dualistic categories. Such words do not simply play a representational role, but also impact how meaning is structured in these debates.

In addition to the above examples, the instance of language that stood out to me while going through this module was when, in a 1970 radio interview with Dr. Henry Morgentaler, a woman caller speaking about abortion says, “It’s just plain murder”. The word “murder” that she chooses to use carries a complex set of implications. It links abortion to gang shootings or serial killers or other such horrible things with which the word is associated. Not that this woman articulates such connections directly, but her choice of words suggests this broader context of use. The caller’s word choice also says, without her having to verbalize it specifically, that the fetus is a person with the same rights as any other person under the law. On the other side of the debate, the phrase “to terminate a pregnancy” is deliberately implemented in order to shift the focus away from the debate about personhood and the rights of a fetus.

“Murder”, “pregnancy termination”, “the ‘A’ word” – three different references to abortion, each word or phrase carrying its own set of connotations that influence how we understand the issue. As evidenced in this module’s exploration of representation of the abortion debate, language has immense power in structuring meaning.

 

In terms of the teaching format of this module, I appreciated the variety of media used to communicate ideas (videos, journal articles, powerpoint slides, etc.). That said, the main thing that is lacking in this online format is the interaction with fellow students and the in-person discussion that can be generated around these topics, which, for me at least, is an important part of learning and understanding.

Commodity Feminism, Commodity Fetishism

“Young women of the world, two things are lacking in your life: gender equality and shiny hair.
And we can help you achieve at least one of those things.”

Such is Pantene’s message in this video, part of the company’s #ShineStrong campaign.

This ad is part of a larger trend, termed “Commodity Feminism” by some, which uses (a version of) feminism to market products to women.
Examples are ubiquitous:
Always’ #LikeAGirl.   CoverGirl’s #GirlsCan.   Verizon’s #InspireHerMind.

These campaigns have been accused of propagating a watered-down, de-clawed feminism that agitates little for actual social change.  Impressively, companies convince us that by consuming the product we are supporting the feminist cause.  Also valid is the comment that the “you be you” message of these ads is at odds with the very nature of marketing, which emphasizes a lack or imperfection in order to then provide a product with which to solve this “problem”.

Such critiques certainly have value.  However, these ads also raise interesting questions about understandings of product and commodity.
Though the term Commodity Feminism plays nicely on Marx’s Commodity Fetishism, are there similarities between the latter concept and this advertising trend that forefronts social causes and ideology?

Marx recognizes that an object produced by labour processes gains a “mystical character” and social status unrelated to its use-value as soon as it enters relations of exchange and becomes a commodity.  The result is that, to quote Marx, the “social character of labour appears to us to be an objective character of the products themselves.”  The focus shifts from labour to the product as its own entity with its own intrinsic value.

Much contemporary advertising, including the examples mentioned above, engages in obfuscation of the labour and product-ness of the commodity being presented.  Value is instead assigned or implied by linking the commodity to a particular lifestyle, identity or social cause.  Commodity feminism is one example of the addition of an ideological layer that distracts from the origins and nature of the commodity advertised.  Significantly, it also invites the consumer to buy into an ideology – here, feminism – in order to divert attention from the fact that by purchasing the Pantene product advertised, the only ideologies that the consumer is truly supporting are consumerism and capitalism.

Thus both commodity fetishism and commodity feminism are engaged in veiling potentially problematic economic relationships.  Commodity fetishism masks the exploitative relationship between worker and capitalist, focusing on the independent commodity object.  Commodity feminism provides a social-ideological focus in order to obscure the exploitative capitalist relationship that exists between company and consumer.

Benjamin, the Artist and Instagram

The internet is home to a proliferation of images created and shared by individuals, often featuring themselves. Now some of these appear on the walls of a New York art gallery.
In the exhibit “New Portraits”, artist Richard Prince uses what appears to be a fairly simple formula:

Choose a photograph of a person posted on Instagram.
Add a comment.
Take a screenshot.
Print onto canvas.

Voilà. Art.

Repurposing images is certainly not a new phenomenon in visual art; digital technology and the internet simply enable it on a massive scale.

Writing seventy-four years before the creation of Instagram, Walter Benjamin notes that technical reproduction “can put the copy of the original into situations which would be out of reach for the original itself”. He recognizes that technological reproduction enables the removal of content from its place of origin and facilitates its dissemination, thus creating the potential for repurposing and new interpretations.

Reaction to Richard Prince’s exhibit has involved, unsurprisingly, visitors taking photographs with Prince’s “New Portraits” and then posting these new layered, mise-en-abyme images on Instagram. The gallery visitor reproduces and repurposes Prince’s gallery piece in the composition of her own photograph, and returns it to the space of the internet.

Benjamin also comments that technological developments allow the popularization of artistic creation whereby the masses themselves become creators, problematizing the distinction between professional artist and the public.
However, in the case of “New Portraits”, despite the dual stages of creation – by Instagram user and by Prince – the distinction between the “artist” and the original photographer remains intact, defined primarily by economics and prestige. As Prince has demonstrated, Instagram photos are (more or less) free for the taking. Conversely, the exhibited photographs – created by Prince as “artist” – are copyrighted and sell for around $40,000 each.

Prince’s art – a product of our age of image reproducibility – repurposes the popular, but its exhibition in a gallery space suggests elevation and “high art” value. The public who view the exhibit are themselves photographers, but their photos are not found in galleries. They are found on Instagram.