Thoughts from my study of Horror, Media, and Narrrative

Archive for October, 2011

Gaming the System

I must admit that, upon reading about the third-person effect, I immediately began to think about game theory. Although I fully confess to being relatively naïve in the school of thought, I have long been fascinated by the ways in which we make decisions based on incomplete information (see also my undergraduate love for heuristics).

Indeed, there seems to be a wonderfully (horrible? awesome?) kind of power in the ability to reliably predict how the manipulation of information can lead to particular patterns of behavior; in some ways, it is like being able to see into the future. And, although perhaps a tad overdramatic, to bend information to your will is to make and remake the world.

Although I certainly don’t wish to confuse game theory with the third-person effect, I can’t help but think that, on some base level, they share some similarities for we are, in both cases, assessing how others will react to a given piece (or set) of information and responding accordingly. Whether it is to promote media regulation, ordering a pre-emptive strike, or playing the market, it seems like some of the same core thought processes are occurring as we pit ourselves against the world.

The notion of distancing, however, is key as it seems to protect individuals from a measure of cognitive dissonance:  it would be troublesome for one to assume that others (i.e., “the masses) are affected differentially if they resemble oneself! And yet the act of distancing creates an interesting thought exercise for the third-person effect operates on the idea that an unseen “average person” would react to media in a particular way—but if we are abnormal on one measure, we are, by sheer probability, surely average on another! Although we can circumvent this tendency through careful thought, it seems difficult for individuals to consider that they might in fact be one of the Other and reconcile this line of thinking with perceptions of one’s own identity.

In some ways, I wonder if this inclination relates to the actor/field approach that we discussed earlier, wherein one is able to observe (and therefore compare) the ways in which media affects others but is blind to this process with regard to oneself. Or maybe it is precisely because we are hyper-aware of our own cognitions that we tend to formulate alternate responses for ourselves.

Is another explanation for this the Western drive toward individualism? Would this same phenomenon present if we fundamentally understood ourselves as embodying a different sort of relationship to our community? Would we be more inclined to identify with the masses if we inhabited a more collectivist society?


Body Assembly

There is, for Western male bodies in particular, a very distinct sense of the body as discrete and whole. In contrast to permeable female body—associated with tears, lactation, childbirth, and menstruation, women demonstrate a tendency to ooze—male bodies appear much more concerned with integrity and resistance to invasion or penetration.

The male anxieties surrounding penetration are also a bit ironic given that, in some ways, the current ideals of straight Western male bodies derive from an attempt by the gay community to respond to the threat of AIDS. In short, one factor in the rise of the ideal hard body—although certainly not the only influence—was the effort made by gay individuals to project a healthy and robust body in the 1980s. As AIDS was considered a “wasting disease” at the time, exaggerated musculature served as an immediate visual signal that one did not have the disease. As this particular image propagated in society, societal norms surrounding the male body changed and straight men began to adopt the new form, although importantly not for the same reasons of gay men.

This process, then, challenges the naturalization of the ideal body—and even the idea of the body itself. The concept of the body can be seen as a constant site of negotiated meaning as our understanding of what the body is (and is not) arises out of an intersection of values; this means that we must look closely at the ways in which we privilege one form of the body over another, maintaining a static arbitrary form in the process.

Here, Jussi Parikka’s notion of body as assemblage offers an interesting lens through which to examine the concept of the body:  the “body,” in a sense is not only an amalgamation of parts, sensations, memories, and events but also is forged in the interaction between the components that make up the body and those that surround it. What if we were to rethink the sacred nature of the body and instead understand it as a fusing of parts on multiple levels? Would we care as much about the ways in which organic and inorganic pieces interacted with our bodies? What if we changed our understanding of our body as inherently natural and saw it as a prosthetic? The state of the body is in constant flux as it responds to and affects the world around it—put another way, the body is engaged in a constant dialogue with its surroundings.

On a macro scale, this adaptation might take the form of Darwinian evolution but on an individual level, we might also think about things like scars or antibodies as ways in which our body (and not our mind!) evidences a form of memory as it has been impacted by the world around it. Although layers of meaning are likely imposed upon these bodily artifacts, on their most basic level they serve as reminders that, as stable as they seem, our bodies continually contain the potential to change.

And, ultimately, it is this potential for transcendence that forms a thread through most of my work. Stretching across the lineage of Final Girls who had power in them all along, to youth striving to maximize their education, to the transhumanist tendency to push the boundaries of the body, I hold most affinity for people who cry, “This is not all that I am.”


The Man Behind the Curtain? It Was Never as Simple as That.

Generally interested in historiography, it makes the most immediate sense for me to situate an industry within a legacy of that which has come before. Whether it is tracing the progression of mass media from print through digital communications or understanding that the “time shift” phenomenon was preceded by a “space shift” as the telegraph separated a message from its source, history provides a valuable framework through which to understand industries. Unfortunately there are no clear demarcations between periods/ages/epochs and it is, at times, difficult to separate out the complex milestones in an industry’s progress. And although Holt and Perren invoke De Certeau in order to remind readers that historiography always works toward an end (put another way, the end cannot help but be known) I must also remind to avoid adopting a deterministic view—just because things ended up in a particular way does not mean that they had to.

And yet, even on a smaller scale, we might choose to examine verticality in another fashion with respect to the chain of production. Nodded to by Holt and Perren, production can be expanded to include the more discrete content areas of design, production, distribution, sales, and consumer. Although these labels may begin to overlap as individual companies or organizations undergo vertical integration, I believe that they represent a solid position from which to start analyzing the downstream flow of products in an industry. In some ways, each of these five areas potentially represent a rich site of study (e.g., see Holt and Perren’s section entitled “The site of production”), but we can also consider how a much more complex picture occurs when we begin to look at the ways these sections interact with each other and how multiple pipelines are arranged in parallel.

As an example:

Using this (very simplified) diagram, we can more readily see how individual companies’ holdings within the pipeline may affect the ways in which those organizations interact with one another. In order to gain greater control over their products, Companies A and B may form some sort of partnership (or one may be taken over by another) while we see similar potential for Companies C, D, and E. Alternatively Company B may try to buy out Company E in order to become the sole point of sale in this industry. We can also see that certain positions are more advantageous than others, for although Companies A, B, and C each control two content areas, Company C must deal with at least two other companies in order to function whereas Companies A and B need only interact with each other. Understanding the nature of the pipeline for a particular industry, then, can offer great insight into the practices of the companies within that sector.

Adding another layer of complexity, we can examine the ways in which these companies interact with, and utilize, consumers. Although they exist at the bottom of this chain, consumers ultimately have a measure of power through their consumption choices and may occasionally rebel against companies who evidence unseemly practices. But, more interestingly, recent years have seen the growth of fan involvement largely through the ability of the Internet to increase access. In an ideal world, this new form of fan involvement might operate in synergy with industry allowing audiences to have a say in the direction of their favorite entertainment properties and making fans more loyal viewers in the process. Opportunistic companies, however, also seem to be keen in taking advantage of this free labor, “employing” fans in aspects of design (e.g., fan fiction), production (e.g., fan videos), and sales (e.g., buzz marketing).

We have, then, obtained a sense of how to begin unraveling the interrelated set of connections that exist to support an industry. Our task is made difficult by the ever-present need to retain multiple perspectives simultaneously, understanding how actions undertaken on one level have implications on others. And yet, despite the inherent challenges, clearly visualizing the past/present is invaluable if we even hope to see into the future.


Points for Trying?

The obvious answer is that if early Science Fiction was about exploring outer space, the writings of the late 20th century were largely about exploring inner space. More than just adventure tales filled with sensation or exploration (or cyberpunk thrill) the offerings that I encountered also spoke to, in a way, the colonizing of emotion. Thinking about Science Fiction in the late 20th century and early 21st century, I wondered how some works spoke to our desire for a new form of exploration. We seek to reclaim a sense of that which is lost, for we are explorers, yes—a new form of adventurer who seeks out the raw feeling that has been largely absent from our lives. Jaded, we long to be moved; jaded, we have set the bar so high for emotion that the spectacular has become nothing more than a nighttime attraction at Disneyworld.

At our most cynical, it would be easy to blame Disney for forcing us to experience wonder in scripted terms with false emotion constructed through tricks of architectural scale and smells only achievable through chemical slight of hand. But “force” seems like the wrong word, for doesn’t a part of us—perhaps a part that we didn’t even know that we had—want all of this? We crave a Main Street that most of us have never (and will never) know because it, in some fashion, speaks to the deeply ingrained notion of what it means to be an American who has lived in the 20th and 21st centuries.

For me, there are glaring overlaps with this practice and emotional branding, but what keeps me up at night is looking at how this process may have infiltrated education through gamification.

Over the past few years, after reading thousands of applications for the USC Office of Undergraduate Admission, I began to wonder how the college application structures students’ activities and identities. On one hand, I heard admission colleagues complaining about how they just wanted applicants to exhibit a sense of passion and authenticity; on the other, I saw students stressing out over their applications and their resumes. The things that I was seeing were impressive and students seemed to devote large amounts of time to things, but I often wondered, “Are they having any fun?”

Were students just getting sucked into a culture that put a premium on achievement and not really stopping to think about what they were doing or why? We can talk about the positive aspects of gamification, levling and badges, but as the years wore on, I really began to see titles on activity summaries as things that were fetishized, obsessed over, and coveted. Students had learned the wrong lesson—not to suggest in the slightest that they are primarily or solely responsible for this movement—going from a race to accumulate experience to merely aggregating the appearance of having done so. How could I convince them that, as an admission officer, it was never really about the experience in the first place but instead how a particular activity provided an opportunity for growth. It was—and is—about the process and not the product.

But, that being said, I try not to fault students for the very actions that frustrated me as a reader are reinforced daily in all aspects of education (and life in general). Processes are messy, vague, and fluid while products are not. How would one even go about conceiving a badge for emotional maturity? Would one even want to try?

Perhaps I am clinging to notions of experience that will become outdated in the future. Science Fiction challenges us to consider worlds where experiences and memory can be saved, uploaded, and imprinted and, really, what are recreational drugs other than our clumsy attempt to achieve altered experiences through physiological change? I don’t know what the future will bring, but I do know that my former colleagues in admission are likely not thinking about the coming changes and will struggle to recalibrate their metrics as we move forward.


Tell Me No Lies

Today, more than ever, individuals are awash in a sea of information that swirls around us, invisible as it is inescapable. And yet, for people who exist solidly within an age of American history defined by our access to, and relationship with, information, we are surprisingly challenged by the overwhelming onslaught of data as we struggle to sort, filter, and conceptualize that which surrounds us. We lament the overbearing influence exerted by algorithms on the Internet on Wall Street (Pariser, 2011; Kaufman Jr. & Levin, 2011) while concurrently expressing concern over technological advances that allow for the manipulation of the genetic code—itself a type of information!—as we foresee a future the portends the elimination of disease while simultaneously raising issues of eugenics and bioethics (Reiss & Straughan, 1996; Lambrecht, 2001). Or, perhaps more frighteningly, we do not comment at all.

Information, in one sense, can then be understood to occupy a place in American culture that is fraught with tension. Concordantly, it may come as no surprise that society also exhibits a complex relationship with news outlets given that the press represents an industry whose primary function revolves around the dissemination of information.[1] Moreover, if we accept what Herbert J. Gans’ calls “bulwark theory” (2010)—the position that an informed populace is a crucial, if not sufficient, component for the operation of a functioning democracy—we see that the institution continues to perform a vital service in spite of its flaws and constraints.

Take, for example, the limitations that arise from the news media’s current reliance on credentialed sources:  while it might make intuitive and economic sense to obtain information directly from organizational spokespeople, the press has evolved in such a way as to become beholden to these establishments for their information, resulting in the ability of corporations, government, and industry to exert a larger measure of control over the narrative (Herman & Chmosky, 1988). Put another way, if we were to understand information flow as a pipeline that stretches between events and the public, certain institutions have managed to create a chokepoint by situating themselves as the sole providers of legitimate and/or official news with regard to a particular matter. Although this situation obviously puts the public and the press at a general disadvantage, this relationship becomes particularly problematic when organizations performing a gatekeeping function decide that withholding information is in the public interest.

In particular, the ongoing “war on terror” provides fertile ground to explore such practices with the government periodically claiming that the release of information may compromise ongoing efforts.[2] While government officials may in fact be correct about the repercussions of making knowledge public, such behavior also elicits a measure of frustration from the public and the press as noted in an editorial authored on October 9, 2011 by public editor Arthur S. Brisbane entitled “The Secrets of Government Killing.”[3]

Sparked by a lack of clarity surrounding the killing of Anwar al-Awlaki on September 30 of this year, Brisbane chastises the contradictory tactics employed by government officials with administrators refusing to provide information publically while simultaneously “leaking” information through anonymous sources. Such a strategy, also employed in areas like celebrity public relations, not only fosters a sentiment that the press has been duped into publicizing and legitimizing the government’s talking points but also prevents individual government officials from being accountable for their actions. Additionally, news media, for their part, cannot lean too heavily on their sources even if they feel an obligation to report on the inner workings of government for they are subject to the “shadow of the future” effect, which essentially posits that current actions facilitate the development of reputation systems and are affected by the anticipated impact that they will have on future interactions (Axelrod, 1984; Resnick, Zeckhauser, Friedman, & Kuwabara, 2000)—in other words, pressing their contacts might inhibit the ability of the press to access future information. This situation, characterized by Brisbane as “awkward,” is potentially detrimental and serves to expose the existent dysfunction in the relationship between the press and the government (2011).

Moreover, whether or not the withholding of information is justified by the government, this sort of behavior undoubtedly serves to breed conspiracy theorists and a general air of distrust regarding the current administration, for it implies that a divide between front stage and backstage knowledge exists.[4] In addition to encouraging feelings of paranoia, this practice also makes the hierarchy of access to privileged information salient, causing the public to become curious about that which is forbidden. A constant tension exists between the government, the press, and the public as the involved parties attempt to ascertain who knows what about whom (Goffman, 1959)—the public may become suspicious that the press is colluding with the government while the government may be trying to stay one step ahead of the press and the public.[5]

Lest we think that this phenomenon is confined to politics, another article from the New York Times articulates how the desire to know inside information is applicable to a wide range of endeavors. In “Inside Knowledge for All You Outsiders,” A. O. Scott notes similar thematic elements in films that range from the political Ides of March to the virulent Contagion and from the investment banking of Margin Call to the baseball statistics of Moneyball, all of which spoke to an exploration of inside knowledge in some manner (2011).[6] These forms of entertainment, Scott argues, hold an appeal for audiences in part because they afford us the sense that we are breaking through the insular barrier of professionals and finally allowed to join in on the conversations taking place behind closed doors (Scott, 2011; Didion, 1988).[7] For Goffman, possessing a more complete picture of the situation (i.e., a “working consensus”) allows one to better dictate the nature of the interaction and leads to more desirable outcomes, particularly when we are trying to manage our images and reputations.

And the increased facility with image management is an important point to consider when framing our heightened awareness of the relationship between news sources, news outlets, and the public; perhaps our increased sensitivity hasn’t come about solely through violations of the public’s trust but also because we are also increasingly engaged in deceptive practices that revolve around the manipulation of knowledge. Using the popularity of social media as a pertinent example, we might engage in small deceptions on our online profiles as we attempt to lessen the rejection that we so desperately seek to avoid in real life or we might alter a personal characteristic in order to test the waters of a new identity in an environment that dampens anxiety and judgment. Here, in a fashion, we have assumed the role of those we would protest against—the news sources.[8] The question, then, is how our personal experiences in these endeavors might impact our attitudes regarding the news industry. Has the more digestible system of information management present on social networks helped us to become more aware of the implications of information flow, more blasé, or both?

Technological innovations like social media have allowed us, as individuals, to connect over vast differences and afforded us many opportunities that we might not otherwise have; yet, in some ways, it has also left us disconnected from the things that (arguably) matter the most. However, before we begin blaming our societal woes on technology, we should consider how negotiating these new forms of social relations represent but one factor in a complex network of behaviors that help to account for the manifestation and reinforcement of the industry/press/public phenomenon outlined earlier.

For example, perhaps this development is not so surprising if we consider the increasing commodification of knowledge in postmodern culture. If we ascribe to Jean-Francois Lyotard’s argument regarding the closely intertwined relationship between knowledge and production in late 20th century society—specifically that the cultivation of new knowledge in order to further production—and therefore that information sets are a means to an end and not an end in and of themselves, we witness a startling change in the relationship between society and knowledge (1979). In opposition to the idealistic pursuit of knowledge for its own sake that occurred during the Enlightenment period, modern perspectives seem to understand knowledge in terms of leverage—in other words, we, like all good consumers, perennially ask the question, “What can you do for me?” Notably, this cultural shift does not disavow the value of knowledge but does change how such worth is determined and classified.

Lyotard’s ideas also hold resonance for modern culture as he acknowledges the danger posed by the (then) newly-formed entity of the multinational corporation as a body that could potentially supersede or subvert the authority of the nation-state (1979). Although we might be inclined to focus on the mechanisms by which institutions like the government, military, or finance, control and regulate knowledge, businesses like Facebook and Google also deserve attention as entities that accumulate enormous amounts of information (often with our willing, if unwitting, participation) and therefore amass incredible power, with the genius of these organizations residing in their ability to facilitate access to our own information! Without judging such companies—although some assuredly do—we can readily glimpse similarities between these establishments’ penchant for controlling the dissemination of information and the practices of government officials outlined earlier in this article. In spite of the current fervor surrounding the defense of rights outlined in the Constitution, we largely continue to ignore how companies like Google and Facebook have also gained the potential to impact concepts like freedom of assembly, freedom of speech, and freedom of information; algorithms designed to act as filters allow us to cut through the noise but also severely reduce our ability to conceptualize what is missing. These potential problems underscore the need to revisit Francis Bacon’s assertion that knowledge is power—power, in some ways, no longer solely resides in knowledge but increasingly in access to it.


[1] Of course, this should not suggest that the only function of the press is to inform the public as one might argue that the very act of information exchange helps to support the development of community. For a counterpoint that features the positive results of this process and its perversion by the mass media, see Jürgen Habermas’ The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere.

[2] For more information about the Supreme Court case that established such precedent, see United States v. Reynolds, 345 U.S. 1 (1953).

[3] From the New York Times website: “Arthur S. Brisbane is the fourth public editor appointed by The Times. The public editor works outside of the reporting and editing structure of the newspaper and receives and answers questions or comments from readers and the public, principally about articles published in the paper.  His opinions and conclusions are his own.” (The New York Times, 2010).

[4] Here I refer to the terms as used by Erving Goffman.

[5] Adapted from my reading response for August 30.

[6] This is, of course, in addition to the perennial popularity of procedural shows on television that explore the inner workings of police forces, hospitals and/or medical professionals, and the judicial system. A recent trend in reality television has also endeavored to showcase niche occupations (and the lives of) truckers, loggers, crabbers, innkeepers, and gold prospectors—I suspect that, to some degree, these docu-soaps attempt to capitalize on the same impulses as their mainstream network counterparts.

[7] See also Herbert J. Gans’ “News and the News Media in the Digital Age:  Implications for Democracy.”

[8] Although it should be noted that after the 2008 election campaigns presidential hopefuls seem to be embracing this technology to a greater degree and such actions are surely part of a particular candidate’s image management plan. For further reading on implementation of social media in the current campaign cycle, please see Ashley Parker’s “A Presidential Candidate’s Special Team.”

Works Cited

Axelrod, R. (1984). The Evolution of Cooperation. New York: Basic Books.

Brisbane, A. S. (2011, October 9). The Secrets of Government Killing. The New York Times, p. SR.12.

Didion, J. (1988, October 27). Insider Baseball. The New York Review of Books, p. 19.

Gans, H. J. (2010). News and the News Media in the Digital Age: Implications for Democracy. Daedalus, Spring, 8-17.

Goffman, E. (1959). Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New york: Doubleday Anchor Books.

Habermas, J. (1989). The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. (T. Burger, & F. Lawrence, Trans.) Cambridge: Polity.

Herman, E. S., & Chmosky, N. (1988). Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media. New York: Pantheon Books.

Kaufman Jr., E. E., & Levin, C. M. (2011, May 6). Preventing the Next Flash Crash. The New York Times, p. A.27.

Lambrecht, B. (2001). Dinner at the New Gene Cafe: How Genetic Engineering Is Changing What We Eat, How We Live, and the Global Politics of Food. New York: Thomas Dunne Books.

Lyotard, J.-F. (1979). The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Pariser, E. (2011). The Filter Bubble: What the Internet Is Hiding from You. New York: The Penguin Press.

Parker, A. (2011, October 9). A Presidential Candidate’s Special Team. The New York Times, p. ST.6.

Reiss, M. J., & Straughan, R. (1996). Improving Nature?: The Science and Ethics of Genetic Engineering. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Resnick, P., Zeckhauser, R., Friedman, E., & Kuwabara, K. (2000). Reputation Systems. Association for Computing Machinery, 43(12), 45-48.

Scott, A. O. (2011, October 9). Inside Knowledge for All You Outsiders. The New York Times, p. AR.1.

The New York Times. (2010, June). The Opinion Pages. Retrieved October 20, 2011, from The New York Times: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/opinion/thepubliceditor/index.html


Standing on the Edge of the World

Although the term “public opinion” has primarily been paired with politics over these past weeks, I tend to enter the conversation through the machinations of celebrity; if fame represents the phenomenon in question (i.e., the “what”), then Walter Lippman provides a “how” while Walter Benjamin chimes in with a “why.” The explanations of Lippman and Benjamin, are, of course, not the only ways in which one might endeavor to explain complex phenomenon of things like celebrity or political attitudes, but, for me, they represent a way.

In “How the News Shapes Our Civic Agenda” Maxwell McCombs and Amy Renyolds mention how Lippman’s seminal work Public Opinion outlines some of the ideas of what would later be called agenda-setting theory (generally, the idea that the relative attention given to articles by the mass media is correlated with the relative importance of those articles’ content by audiences) but this model, although likely valid, seems incomplete as it forwards a passive and reactionary position on behalf of audiences—although agenda-setting may certainly represent an influence on salience, it seems unlikely to represent the only factor at work.

Indirectly, agenda-setting speaks to some of the ways in which audiences can work to inscribe particular things (be they news items or celebrities) but here, the work of Benjamin sheds some light on why researchers may have observed the patterns that they did with regard to agenda-setting theory. Although admittedly more complex than is outlined here, one of the arguments made in Benjamin The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction is society’s rationalization that, in a world with limited resources, replicated images are worth reproducing. Applying this concept to news media, which  also suffers its own set of constraints (e.g., space in print media or time in broadcast media), we understand that particular items are not only newsworthy because of the focus placed upon them, but also because they are covered at the expense of other things which were not mentioned.

But here I would suggest that the mere amount of exposure cannot fully account for the totality of the effects observed. Recalling earlier class discussions on the nature of advertising, it seems fair to argue that the messages put forth by outside agencies like news media outlets must be rendered meaningful by individuals and be available for recall. In order to support this notion (and introducing a bit of Social Psychology), we might refer to Vincent Price, David Tewksbury, and Elizabeth Powers’ concept of the “knowledge store,” which is itself reminiscent of the availability heuristic (i.e, the mental shortcut that describes the process whereby we assign additional importance to information that we can most readily recall, creating a correlation between memorable qualities and importance). What Price, Tewksbury, and Powers suggest is that it is not enough merely to have representation, but that these representations must be vivid and able to be recalled by individuals in order to have an effect. While one might be tempted to relegate this finding to sensationalist media, I believe that the work of Price, Tewksbury, and Powers also helps us to explain the processes described in agenda-setting theory.


Always Starting Over But Somehow I Always Know Where to Begin

As students in my section undoubtedly were aware, the Critical Analysis of Social Issues (CASI) model is one that I struggle with—mostly because, I think, of the word “context.” The trouble is that the word is much too broad to mean much of anything for me:  I can talk about unequal power structures or socio-historical background…but aren’t these all forms of context? I understand events like the Irvine 11 as situated in a number of overlapping contexts:  political, economic, social, historical, geographic, and temporal. Moreover, the way in which I choose to examine any particular issue also brings with it a certain set of affordances and limitations—I must remember that I too am a sort of context for the event is being interpreted though a series of lenses and filters that have developed out of my personal combination of experiences.

But I do not mean to imply that this effort is unworthy just because it is limited or because it is difficult. I think of critical thinking as a series of skills or tools that one can employ in order to contemplate an issue from multiple angles. The biggest challenge for our group seemed where to begin:  with so many questions floating in the air, how does one even begin unpacking it all? Every answer is necessarily connected to another and it seems like a ball of string that folds back in on itself, offering no place upon which to perch. The answer, for me, is to begin analyzing something along one line of inquiry knowing that your work will be incomplete but moving along anyway—you can, after all, always go back and add to what you have uncovered. Only through practice does the plodding turn into instinct.