Friday, November 1, 2013

Live Experience, Embodied Knowledge

Megan Arkenberg and Aaron Benedetti


In her discussion of Civil War battle reenactment, Rebecca Schneider suggests that historical reenactment uses the body as both a medium for inquiry and a site for knowledge.  In the process of reenactment, some participants believe that
if they repeat an event just so, getting the details as close as possible to fidelity, they will have touched time and time will have recurred.  Thus, “enthusiasts” play across their bodies particulars of “what really happened” gleaned from archival “evidence” … .  But they also engage in this activity as a way of accessing what they feel the documentary evidence on which they rely misses—that is, live experience.  (10)
Historical events are re/performed through and with the body, and the knowledge produced by this exercise (“live experience”) concerns the bodily sensations that escape documentation in traditional, archival history.

In “Ghosts, Cowboys,” the narrator, Claire, similarly privileges the body as a site of historical knowledge.  She deems “inadequate” the knowledge available through historical documents such as “a book, a diary, a newspaper, a coroner’s report” (176–7) because it cannot provide access to certain past experiences of embodiment and affect:
I can tell you the shape of the stain left by H. T. P. Comstock’s brain matter on the wooden walls of his cabin, but not whether he tasted the sour of the curse in his mouth just before he pulled the trigger.  I can tell you the backwards slant of Himmel Green’s left-handed cursive but not whether Leo loved him back.  I can tell you of the silver gleam of Helen Spahn’s tumors but not whether she felt them growing inside her.  …  Everything I can say about what it means to lose, what it means to do without, the inadequate weight of the past, you already know.  (177)
History, for Claire, is located simultaneously in observable imprints of past events—the stain, the handwriting, the appearance of tumors under a microscope—and in what historical figures “felt” or sensed, which Schneider calls live experience.  Claire’s formulation, history possesses physicality and tangible “weight,” but the weight of her particular history is “inadequate” because it lacks, or perhaps because she lacks access to, these affective and embodied knowledges.

Interestingly, when directly questioned about this affective past that she cannot access—“Tell me about your father” (176)—Claire answers with a description of a seemingly unrelated sensory (bodily) experience, that of smelling “the heavy earth scent after a desert rain” (177).  This signals a shift in Claire’s orientation toward embodiment’s relationship to history.  Embodiment not only provides a medium for historical knowledge, but also an immediate experience (bodily and affective) through which Claire negotiates her relationship to history.

This negotiation becomes manifest in the final scene of the story, where it is performed through the act of eating.  When Claire offers a bite of a hot dog to her half-sister, this shared experience of eating becomes a vehicle for the mutual acknowledgement of their affinity:  Razor Blade Baby responds, “I could be your sister” (179).  The sisters enact a relationship that has until this point existed only as conjecture from historical documentation.  Claire describes this ­­­­­­­enactment metaphorically as “carry[ing] that weight [of history]” and “paint[ing] over the past” (179).  Painting over the past is both a form of erasure, such as the erasure of a historical document, and a resurfacing, the addition of new layers to history—layers that can be understood as embodied sensation, “live experience.”  If the body, for Claire, provides both a privileged locus of knowledge and a medium for inquiry, it is also a medium for living with the “inadequate weight” of history.  Can we generalize from this reading to argue that embodied experiences that are not reenactments (in the strictest sense of this term) still constitute responses to history?

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5 comments:

Sarah H said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sarah H said...

Megan and Aaron,

How funny that all of us who wrote on the Schneider piece seem to have been drawn to the same moment in the text. This notion that embodied experience of individual performers might actually add something vital to historical archives is really fascinating. I’ll attempt to engage with your question of whether embodied experiences that are not strictly considered to be reenactments might still constitute responses to history. If we agree with the argument that all socially mediated gestural acts are forms of historical reenactment, then those do seem respond to history as such. Beyond that, its hard for me to think of any embodied experience that is not in dialoguing in some way with history in the sense that our embodied knowledge seems always to be in some way mediated by archival or documented experience. If there is in fact some way of accessing purely embodied experience, unmediated by “consciousness" or however we might choose to refer to a sense of self, I’m not sure what that is. This question makes me think of the improvisational practice of “Authentic Movement” developed by dance therapist Mary Starks Whitehouse as a mode of accessing embodied expressions of the unconscious. I've attempted this form of somatic inquiry a number of times with mixed results. Mostly, what I learned is that it’s really difficult to break away from a sort of reenacted gestural experience. Anyway, sorry for the tangent, but clearly you posed a provocative question!

Samantha S said...

Aaron and Megan,

Fascinating reading, and I agree with you and Schneider about the necessity of an additional embodied component to history. Your reading of "Ghosts, Cowboys" also seems to be dancing around memory--contained in the mind, but also a private re-performance of past events. Memory also walks the line between fidelity and embodied affect, and I'm wondering--what are your thoughts as to the validity and role of memory as another site for inquiry and knowledge?

Jenny Colmenero said...

Ugh, the problem with commenting on Sunday nights is that not only do I want to engage with this great collaborative piece, but I also want to engage with all the provocative comments. Damn discursive dialogues...

While reading your final question, I found myself thinking of the forward to Toni Morrison's Beloved, which I think we established in class that literally Everyone, Ever has read.

Morrison writes that part of the impetus to write Beloved at the particular historical moment that she did, was as a way to negotiate a very different political and embodied experience of the 1980s: abortion and the right to choose it. Seems like there might be something in this that begins to approach your question -- the way that abortion and the very personal, very embodied experience of being denied access to your own body becomes a catalyst for speaking back to the past.

Now reading Sarah's comment, I also have a question for her -- is there a way to separate embodied experience from consciousness, when consciousness itself is embodied? I feel like I intuitively understand the distinction you're drawing but I can't neurobiologically back that up. What we feel can only be articulated by our consciousness, though I suppose there is a gap between perception (the feeling) and consciousness (the articulating)...

Ashley said...

Hi Megan and Aaron,

Like those that have gone before me in the commenting queue, I am also drawn to the poignancy of embodiment as a site (or cipher) for consciousness and memory. I found your close readings particularly adept at weighing in on questions of fidelity (is it enough to state “observable imprints of the past” or do we have to try to capture what is sensed?).

While your passages elucidate how formative bodied experiences are to transmitting historical and immediate knowledge (especially eating; Eating is a touchstone for so many social and cultural acts, I wish you could have expounded more on this!), I couldn’t help but wonder that in your text’s questions about cataloguing history, aren’t inevitably all these catalogues and transmissions about how one felt, how one touched, how one ate, mediated by language? Surely, to remember how someone felt as a tumor grew inside him/her, a narrator or archivist cannot re-perform this. Nor can someone re-perform the act of dying by gunshot wound. In other words, vis-à-vis your last question about whether we generalize from this reading to argue that embodied experiences that are not reenactments (in the strictest sense of this term) still constitute responses to history “we [can] generalize…that embodied experiences that are not reenactments…still constitute responses to history”, I say that they certainly can, but many can only do so through language.

I wonder also about time. Your passage from Schneider also raises the prospect of time: that if “getting the details as possible to fidelity, they will have touched time and time will have recurred.” Given the importance of recalling/recounting embodied experience to recovering and responding to history in your post, I wonder how that expands outwards to the concept of “time” (which I would argue—but not possibly in a cogent manner—seems different from “history” per se)?