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In the following
essay, Paul Ward turns a critical eye on the discipline of Animation Studies.
Considered a sub-category of film studies, animation studies often shows
this influence, limiting the development of the discipline by narrowing
the possibilities for critical interpretation to those perspectives which
are available to film scholars. Ward explores the option of seeing animation
as the potential site for a discursive interrogation -- a place where
many disciplines overlap (film, cinema, television, animation, technology).
Ward's essay encourages scholars to look towards a pan-disciplinary approach
that sees animation studies as a site of intersection for many lines of
flight.
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Animation Studies, Disciplinarity,
and Discursivity
Paul Ward
Introduction
<1> Addressing how knowledge
grows, develops and "fits together" is arguably one of the most testing
tasks facing scholars. In a world where knowledge is increasingly viewed as
a commodity -- and the teaching of that knowledge is often done in an instrumentalist
fashion -- we need to come to a fuller understanding of how knowledge areas
inter-relate. Such a "mapping" needs to move beyond simplistic models
of "disciplinarity" (and its bolted-together variants, such as "interdisciplinarity,"
"multidisciplinarity," and the like) and explore the ways that a wide
range of people in an equally diverse set of contexts might constitute a more
or less coherent field. This paper contributes to such an ongoing project by
examining the ways that Animation Studies can be viewed in relation to these
debates. As a putative "new discipline" its history needs to be excavated
and carefully delineated. But we cannot do this without acknowledging its close
relationship with cognate fields, such as Film, Media and Cultural Studies.
Where exactly does Animation Studies "fit in" with these other areas?
My suggestion is that we need to develop a discursive view of apparently
"multi-sited" fields of knowledge, like Animation Studies: rather
than making what are ultimately false calls for recognition of yet another free-standing
discipline, the dialogic and dialectical relationship between fields of knowledge
must be seen as the central focus.
Animation's status as a
knowledge area: is there such a thing as "Animation Studies"?
<2> It might seem an
odd question: if people study animation, then there must be "animation
studies." This is of course true, but tends to gloss over the fact that
there is a difference between, on the one hand, simply studying various types
of animation and, on the other, proposing that there is a coherent and recognizable
field that can be termed "Animation Studies." Indeed, this raises
several fundamental questions: what is animation, who studies and teaches it,
how, and in what context/s? Furthermore, can these people and contexts be talked
about as if they constitute a "disciplinary" field? The distinction
is one that also dogs "Media Studies" for example. The fact that "media
studies" (note the case distinction) or, simply, "studying the media"
can take place in a number of contexts that would not be described as "Media
Studies" (e.g., English or other subjects might use film and TV to elaborate
on certain aspects) points to the fact that such a label might be problematic.
One thing that is often overlooked is that these areas are plural -- the very
term "Studies" implies that they are multiple, composite. There is
a tension between this plurality and the notion of there being a central "core"
to "the subject" that can be easily identified. Being able to point
to and document a discipline's "essence," its main objectives, has
become one of the main issues in certain sectors -- an apparent obsession with
being able to document and "prove" a discipline's "worth"
by cataloguing what it does and how it does it [1].
<3> For the moment we
need only reiterate that the kind of classification of knowledge that is currently
dominant -- that is, one that classifies along broadly disciplinary lines,
(even if there is a sense of a subject being "hybrid," this is talked
about as the meeting of disciplines [inter-, cross-, trans-, etc.]) --
is historically a relatively recent phenomenon [2].
The shift to understanding and categorizing knowledge in this manner has led
to something of a polarization in terms of so-called "traditional"
and "progressive" attitudes to education as a whole. And often, the
site of most debate is "new" subject areas such as Media and Film
(and, even more recently, the apparently discrete "New Media," with
its emphasis on ICT [information and communication technology] rather than "old"
forms of mass communication). These areas are viewed either with suspicion/outright
hostility (by the traditional wing, who see them as an amorphous and unrigorous
"easy option" compared to "proper" subjects), or as a potentially
liberating and progressive field that can, precisely because of its "hybridity,"
offer a route into educating a range of people on a range of issues. (Also,
the fact that subjects such as Film and Media tend to engage with some sense
of "the popular" is another reason for them to be either dismissed
or valorized). I return to this issue below, when discussing animation's position
as a "discursive field" and how this impacts on its epistemological
status.
<4> The fact that there
is a Society for Animation Studies suggests that "Animation" exists
as an identifiable object of study, epistemologically separable from other forms
of "artistic" or "mass media" endeavor. However, as Jayne
Pilling makes apparent in the introduction to her edited anthology A Reader
in Animation Studies:
"animation studies"
is still hardly established as an academic discipline. Consequently, a "reader"
might be considered a rather pre-emptive gesture in this instance and the conventional
introduction to an academic reader (which usually seeks to place its contents
in context through the critical and theoretical traditions in previous writings
on the subject, and establishes a position or dialectic in relation to the latter),
might seem inappropriate. (1997, ix)
She then goes on to attempt
a tentative "contextualization" by noting animation's "marginalization"
-- both in general cultural and more specifically academic terms. In other words,
the apparent rise of Animation Studies, and its "recognition" in the
founding of a Society of Animation Studies, is predicated on a perceived marginal
status for "animation" in relation to more "dominant" modes
of representation, particularly film and broadcast media. The main paradigms
adopted for the study of animation tend to "mirror" those used in
"film, media and cultural studies" (ibid, xiv).
<5> Such "marginality"
is characteristic of a "new" subject. In effect, certain scholars,
practitioners and learners, in various inter-related contexts will attempt to
fill a perceived gap. Their apparent common goals and similar subject matter
mean that they will constitute themselves as a more or less coherent body, addressing
something that formerly received little or no attention, or perhaps, what attention
it did receive was seen to be skewed in favor of the "dominant"
features of the existing disciplinary structure. (An example here is the gradual
founding of Television Studies as a more or less distinct "subject"
from Film Studies and Media Studies). The founding of Animation Studies, with
the attendant conferences, journals, scholarly positions, etc., gave voice to
an area of research that had previously had to fight for room within more established
areas.
<6> The only problem
with this is that such "marginality" can perhaps hamper the development
of a "new" discipline, to the extent that very real and potentially
useful connections are resented or, even less usefully, treated as if they do
not exist. By this I mean that the new-found "freedoms" of a practitioner
in an area like Animation Studies (who previously might have "done"
animation studies, lower case, in the context of Film, Media, etc.) can overshadow
the fact that the apparent constraining of a particular subject matter by "something
bigger" is hardly ever (if at all) a simple case of a one-way exercise
of power. Also, it is worth reiterating that a large number of people who might
fall into the category "Animation Studies" (whether as researchers
or students) are actually working in a context that does not have that official
nomination. It is hard to see a way around this particular conundrum: there
are always going to be people who are "in" one particular disciplinary
"home," but perhaps have closer affinities with "other"
disciplines. This is exacerbated in the case of Animation Studies by the fact
that probably the majority of people teaching and studying animation
do so in an institutional and pedagogic context where "Animation"
is not the "main" label. Certainly there are those courses where "Animation"
is the main label, but these are far outweighed by those where "Animation"
is studied in other/broader contexts. (This observation is borne out by a cursory
glance at the nomination and affiliation of Society for Animation Studies members,
for example).
<7> The central difficulty
is therefore the relationship that animation is perceived to have with cognate
areas of knowledge, and how practitioners in any of these fields (and, indeed,
"outsiders") respond to this relationship. I return below to the specific
concepts of overlap and discreteness, and also to the notions of discursivity
and recursivity, and how they help us to theorize these issues. For the moment,
however, I'd like to concentrate on how the study of animation per se might
be perceived.
<8> Mark Langer has
pointed to what he sees as the key problem:
It is my impression
that the study of animation right now has not progressed much beyond the point
that film studies in general had reached by the early [1970s] [. . .] What really
seems to be holding animation scholarship back, in my view, is its insularity.
Few animation scholars really participate in the scholarly world outside of
animation, and appear uninterested in or unaware of the theoretical or methodological
debates that are going on [in] other disciplines. (2000a)
These statements are interesting
for a number of reasons. There seems to be an implicit recognition that animation,
for better or worse, has what we might term a "special relationship"
with Film Studies. Langer suggests as much when he states that animation has
not "progressed much beyond" a particular point that "film studies
in general" had reached by a specific historical point. It is certainly
the case that much of the so-called "scholarly" work in what has now
become known as "Animation Studies" perhaps began life under the aegis
of Film Studies. Furthermore, the way that "new" disciplinary structures
become recognized as such is by the newly-generated knowledge in some
sense "moving beyond" (or "progressing") some existing relationship.
It constitutes itself as -- and is recognized as -- different precisely in the
sense that it does something that the existing knowledge area cannot accommodate.
The issue for Langer, then, is not so much that we should ignore the links between
Film Studies and Animation Studies, but that these links should be seen in their
precise historical context. In short, Film Studies has "moved on";
so, now, should Animation Studies.
<9> Animation scholars
are seen as being hidebound by somewhat outmoded approaches that they have borrowed/adapted
from 1970s Film Studies methodologies. Thus, animation scholarship is being
held back by its "insularity" and this is an insularity that is a
hangover from these one-dimensional approaches [3].
The term "insularity" is an interesting one though: it can
imply a strength, particularly in terms of boundaries, that retains the internal
logic of a particular discipline/subject, helping it to keep its focus, and
so forth. However, the more usual (and pejorative) meaning of the term is that
something is obsessively concerned with some sense of "purity" and
falls back on "insularity" as a way of maintaining this. (A common
example is the "insularity" of certain British people when it comes
to mainland Europe). This is the meaning of the term as Langer is using it in
relation to animation scholarship as he sees it. The idea that "animation"
is seen as a separate field, with its own concerns and logical, methodological
procedures is an understandable one for animation scholars to hold, but it is
paradoxically the root of some difficulties, precisely because of animation's
position as a "conjunctional" discipline. It is animation's relationships
with other knowledge areas -- like Film, Media, Art & Design -- that actually
makes it what it is, and Langer is calling for a clear recognition of this.
He is also asking that things be taken further, to recognize the potential of
applying, for example, "cognitive science [. . .] or [. . .] cyborg theory
[. . .] just two of the hundreds of theoretical streams that could be provoking
some new approaches" (Langer, ibid.) to the study of animation.
<10> In all this, however,
we need to keep a close eye on what happens to the specificity of the
subject. It is all very well stating that we need to broaden the methodological
approaches (and also, remember, there is also a broadening in terms of what
animation actually might be, how we define it, and so forth -- in other words,
the actual object of study), but doesn't this potentially "dilute"
the focus? Phillip Drummond's discussion of Media Studies as a subject or discipline
is of use here, and can help us reflect on animation's epistemological/academic
position. He distinguishes between two terms, "specificity" and "fundamentality."
In asking what it is that gives Media Studies its "specificity," he
says:
is Media Studies
"specific" in its attention to particular empirical objects like films
and television programmes? Or does its specificity consist of its elaboration
of a particular programme of intellectual initiatives where media objects are
reference points which support general academic aims and objectives at another
level? (Drummond, 1995, 9)
In relating this to animation,
we could ask the same questions. If one is studying "animation" (or
"particular empirical objects like [. . .] ") then one is surely undertaking
"Animation Studies." However, it is worth stressing at this point
that a great deal of animation also falls under the rubric "films and television
programs." So, the simple assumption that, just by looking at "animation,"
one is thereby "doing Animation Studies" is problematized. This much
is made clear by the many (academic) "homes" in which we find animation,
and its "studies." The second "strand" of specificity that
Drummond points to is more "general," but only in the sense that it
does not tie itself to a set of empirical objects, but rather rests on a set
of academic aims and objectives. Here, animation would operate as the aforementioned
"reference points." The niggling difficulty is that, if one can identify
a set of aims and objectives and note that a certain set of texts can act as
reference points for these aims and objectives, then those texts/empirical objects
do hold some of the "specificity." In other words, the "specificity"
will be "read back on to" the empirical objects, roughly translating
as "this is what we study." Clearly, the exact nature of the
"this" -- and, indeed, the "we" -- remains as difficult
to pin down as ever. My point though is simply that the two "specificities"
to which Drummond gestures are not quite as separate as his essay makes out.
<11> This is why Drummond
puts forward another term as part of understanding these complex epistemological
issues, that of "fundamentality." This term moves one away from the
potential "cloudiness of specificity" (my term), and
involves the identification
of levels and dimensions of profundity, primacy and capacity to generate substantial
intellectual complexity. In empirical terms, it gives rise to assumptions about
"foundation" disciplines and "second order" disciplines,
and leads us in the current context to ask whether Media Studies can be placed
with justice in either of these categories. A large number of parameters are
involved in such a general archaeology of knowledge where Media Studies is concerned,
turning on distinctions between "disciplines" and "subjects."
(Drummond 1995, 9)
Arguably, the problems to
which Drummond points regarding Media Studies are redoubled when considering
Animation Studies, quite simply because the latter can be (and has been) considered
a component of the former. And, if we see "Media Studies" as a somewhat
larger project than is commonly thought (where "Media Studies" is
conflated with and reduced to simply "studying media artefacts"),
it could be argued that many other areas of knowledge might be subsumed within
"Media Studies." In other words, a project of clarification would
involve seeing "media language as a special sub-set of general speech-acts
and repertoires of mediation" (ibid.). "Media Studies," in this
respect, would become a much more important epistemological structure, acting
as a "framing device" for many other intellectual activities. This
is something that has been addressed by Alvarado and Ferguson (1983) in their
essay on Media Studies and discursivity, something I return to below.
<12> To return to Drummond's
points, he makes a key distinction between "disciplines" and "subjects,"
but also points to neither one nor the other having a monopoly on epistemological
potency or clarity. Their effectiveness as educational "frames" resides
in their overall objectives -- about what are they seeking knowledge? for what
purpose? -- and their connection to their social context. Thus:
Foundation disciplines,
for example, if their organisation is based on a merely additive, "collection"
model of curricular activity and behaviour, may lose intellectual and heuristic
potency. Second order disciplines, on the other hand, may achieve considerable
academic and educational sophistication through the integration they achieve
within a frankly derivative intellectual framework. We might more truly call
them subjects. This refers us back to our earlier discussion of "objects"
and of "methods." A discipline dominated by its reference to real-world
"objects," for example, is likely to be held within an essentially
reactive and descriptive paradigm, whilst a discipline preoccupied with "method"
may founder on the formalism of a solipsistic immanence. (Drummond, 9-10)
In the case of a knowledge
area such as "Animation Studies," we can clearly see that it falls
into the "second order discipline" category, in that much of the work
carried out there is academically and educationally sophisticated but, equally,
it is carried out within a derivative framework. There is nothing inherently
wrong with this: It simply means that many of the methodological and epistemological
procedures of "Animation Studies" as a knowledge area are derived
from "somewhere else." This is not a problem, unless you wish to call
"Animation Studies" a "discipline," because as Drummond
points out, this "derivation" means that a more accurate label is
"subject." The chief methodological problem in relation to "Animation
Studies" (and this is something to which Langer alludes) is that it can
sometimes find itself "held within an essentially reactive and descriptive
paradigm," in the sense that it merely seeks to offer overview (albeit
critically/analytically informed overview) of those "real world objects"
that can be categorized as "animated texts." The key is to steer a
course between the two extremes as outlined by Drummond, seeking to place them
in a dynamic relationship with each other, rather than seeing one as inherently
"better" than the other. Whilst an overly descriptive paradigm is
a weakness, so too is one that appears abstract and "theoreticist,"
but it might well be the case that some academics would rather fall foul of
the latter, than be accused of "deriving" their intellectual framework
from anywhere but "within" their own "discipline."
<13> What we need is
a conceptual "map" that allows us to think through where "animation"
lies in relation to cognate subject areas. We also need to pay careful attention
to terminology, as some writers refer to "disciplines," "subjects,"
"knowledges" or "knowledge areas" without making entirely
clear what differences, if any, there are between them. The notion of "boundary"
subjects or disciplines, and the particular issues and problems relating to
them, are of most use in understanding animation as an epistemological phenomenon.
The fact is, as already stated, animation shares many of its objects of study,
and a considerable number of its methodological approaches and theoretical paradigms,
with other disciplines. Most animations are films or television programs. An
increasing number are computer games (and computer-generated imagery plays a
massively important role in current cinema/TV practice). Those that do not fall
into one or more of these categories will no doubt comfortably fall into the
broad category "art" or "art and design." Such a train of
thought is further complicated by the fact that some would locate film and media
practice in general as a kind of "art" or "artistic practice."
<14> The fundamental
problem seems to be: how can we locate or pin down something (and thereby understand
what it does, who does it and so on) when it appears to exist in a large number
of different places, all at the same time? This again takes us back to "specificity"
in the sense that one possible answer to this conundrum is to endlessly "hybridize,"
usually with the result that we have a large number of "hyphenated"
names, something akin to Polonius's description of the actors' prowess [4].
This is the logic of a simplistic "interdisciplinariness," where separate
subjects are bolted together. The problem remains though: what happens if one
subject is seen to be "part of" these others, a sub-category or marginal
activity "within" them, rather than an active "partner"
in the "inter-disciplinary" dance? The problem of insularity and how
it shapes animation's position in the academy is something I return to further
on, when I address the notions of discursive and recursive relationships. Now
I'd like to turn to the relationship between animation and Film Studies, and
their particularly intricate relationship.
Animation and adjacent
fields of knowledge: discreteness, overlap and permeability
<15> In this section
I shall discuss the specific arguments of Watson (1997) and Cholodenko (1991),
and how they argue animation's close relationship with Film Studies. What they
say can be placed in a broad context of overlap and permeability of boundaries
as discussed by Klein (1993), for example. Fundamental to their arguments is
also the belief that animation as a practice and as an epistemological "object"
tends to problematize a broader, pre-existing (and, in some respects, dominant)
field -- i.e., "Film Studies." They come from a perspective that constructs
animation as "marginal," but they do so in a way that recognizes that
this is not, in and of itself, a negative thing. Animation can be theorized
in such a way that its position as a "type of film" is weighed up
against both its other disciplinary affiliations (e.g., with Art and Design,
Graphics, Computing, Engineering, Robotics, etc.), and also its particular usefulness
in demanding a rethinking of what a "type of film" actually is in
the first place. In other words, animation tends to crystalize and problematize
the "interdisciplinariness" of a field such as Film Studies, and careful
consideration of both "Animation" and "Film Studies" should
result in a clearer understanding of both.
<16> The problem for
Watson is that, despite the attention lavished on animation in certain critical-theoretical
circles, he thinks that such work falls into the trap of seeing "animation"
and "live-action" as separate entities. As he says:
concentrating [.
. .] [on] animation as a cinematic form with its own regime of specificity has
had the effect of reproducing the sense that it exists as a formal and aesthetic
world apart from live-action film, that it is first and foremost a sub-category
of cinema. (Watson 1997, 46).
His argument is one that sees
animation and live-action as inextricably linked. This is in opposition to
the common sense
position, reinforced by historical and even the most contemporary discourses
[. . .] that animation and live action shall be regarded as separate entities,
each with its own aesthetic register and corresponding modes of knowledge. (ibid.)
Clearly, Watson believes that
we should see animation and live-action as "two points on the same ontological
continuum" (47). However, we are also in the same problematic area we were
earlier, where any attempt to discuss animation's "specificity" is
endlessly confused by its "overlap" or "implication" with
other categories, like "live-action" and "cinema." The key
difficulty is that, if there is to be a knowledge area known as "Animation
Studies," then it must have some distinguishing features, some essential
characteristics that mark it out as different.
<17> Again, though,
we are in a dilemma. Animation's close relationship with film has tended to
mean that theoretical and historical assumptions are either simply taken on
board as if they are unproblematically applicable to animation, or they are
rejected out of hand, as "not suited" to animation precisely because
they referred in the first instance to "film." More often than not,
though, any distinction between "animation" and "film" as
knowledge areas has less to do with actual perceived differences between the
two types of representation, and a good deal to do with strategic moves
by practitioners in the given area. In the same way that Film Studies had to
make some elbow room for itself "within" (at first, anyway) other
knowledge areas (like English), and then gradually move towards some sense of
autonomy in the academy, a similar process is taking place with animation. However,
the point is that a strategic move of this kind should not be confused
with an actual ontological difference. It is more the case that those teaching
animation are engaging in a rhetorical manoeuvre to "argue the case"
for their activity. The most persuasive accounts of defining animation are those
that do not posit an essential difference between "animation"
and "live action," in that both are instances of "moving image
culture" (e.g., Furniss, 1998). The differences reside more in the relative
"weight" given to (say) "live action film" as opposed to
"animation," the specifics of the contexts in which they both operate,
and so on. It is unsurprising that an activity/set of texts that occupy a marginal
position within 'film' in general should also be perceived as existing "on
the margins" of Film Studies as a knowledge area.
<18> A question I asked
of the Animation Journal email discussion group [5]
elicited an interesting response on this matter. Asked for thoughts on animation
and Film Studies' "separateness" (Ward, 2000), Keith Bradbury stated
that animation has "its own history that should be addressed distinct from
film" (Bradbury, 2000a). This short statement prompted a much longer one
from Mark Langer, the gist of which was:
whatever distinctiveness
animation may have (and that is open to dispute) can only be understood by understanding
its relationship to other media forms. It seems to me that almost all of animation
history HAS been discussed as if animation were distinct from film (or almost
anything else) [. . .] [but] [. . .] to continue in our well-established manner
would be contrary to almost all scholarship going on in art history, film studies,
communication, etc., which emphasises the entire horizon of experience in the
evaluation of any medium. (Langer, 2000b)
Now, this seems fair enough.
It is important that any animation (and any study of animation) is seen in,
and placed in, a broader context. This will involve thinking through the links
to films, print media, broadcast media, spectacle, fantasy, and so on. Equally,
it will involve thinking through the links between apparently very similar knowledge
areas. Nevertheless, while not disagreeing with Langer's basic contention, it
does tend to mean that the issue of "distinctiveness" is somewhat
lost or deflected. This is something that Bradbury picks up on in his counter-response
to Langer ("a more considered response to your criticism of my stance re[garding]
animation studies," as he puts it). Bradbury states:
Any discipline has
had to establish its distinctiveness from others. Art History is a young discipline
in relation to History, yet we make the distinction between art history and
history and others like communication studies (language in the mass media context)
as distinct from english or canadian or french studies. There is a point where
the host discipline becomes the embryonic cast-off of new life. (Bradbury, 2000b)
For Bradbury, what is important
is to stress animation's "distinctiveness" as an object of study.
But the vital thing to note is that this is not necessarily the same thing as
saying that animation is completely "distinct" from other forms of
communication (such as live action films, or 'art' in general). Rather, this
"distinctiveness" is more of a rhetorical manoeuvre, a staking of
animation's right to be studied in and of itself, rather than as an adjunct
to "something else." This disagreement is therefore a matter of degree
rather than a substantive difference: they are arguing much the same point,
but from different points on a spectrum. Bradbury does not mean that animation
can be talked of as if it was produced and consumed outside of the broader
contexts, but he is concerned to ensure that animation's "distinctiveness"
(such as it is) is not lost. In many ways, we are back to the issue of "primacy"
here: two scholars who actually do not disagree at the fundamental level, but
where they do seem to disagree is in the position afforded animation in their
epistemology. As Bradbury states: "my concern was to say unequivocally
that animation should be studied for its own history not as a marginal note
to film" (ibid.). He makes clear elsewhere in his email post that he sees
animation as part of a much broader cultural context, but the difference is
that he wishes for animation to lead his examination of that context
(hence: primacy). And this is characteristic of many people's scholarly work:
they are basically looking at the same material, but approaching it from different
angles
<19> This phenomenon
is something that Steve Fuller has discussed in his work on "social epistemology."
His arguments regarding how to detect the presence or otherwise of disciplinary
boundaries are useful here, in relation to Animation and Film Studies. He states:
When the claims of
one discipline conflict with those of another, which discipline yields to the
other's cognitive authority? [. . .] When the cognitive resources of one discipline
are insufficient to solve one of its own problems, which other discipline "just
outside" its boundary is invoked for help? When the validity of claims
in one discipline is challenged, the validity of claims in which other disciplines
is most threatened? Not only should the answers to these questions be expected
to change over time, but they are also likely to be asymmetrical. (Fuller, 193-4)
These questions are echoed
in Cholodenko's contentions about the role of animation as a knowledge field
in relation to Film Studies. As he states in the Introduction to his anthology:
cinema cannot be
thought without thinking (its relation to) animation and . . . that thinking
of the nature of animation would not only bring the film theorist full circle
in a necessary return to the proto-history of cinema but would in that return
challenge, even suspend, certain axioms of film theory and Film Studies. This
is to suggest that the thinking of animation, the animation of animation studies,
could have profound repercussions for Film Studies -- its reanimation. [Animation]
troubles, and its troubling includes troubling thought . . . (10)
Cholodenko does not really
make a great call for -- or defense of -- "Animation Studies" as such.
He seems far more interested in the ways that rethinking animation also causes
us to rethink some commonly accepted boundaries, divisions and theories (particularly,
for Cholodenko, and Watson, those of Film Studies). Animation is seen as a kind
of "catalyst," or intellectual irritant, making us ask awkward questions
of existing disciplines (like Film Studies, but also a wide range of other disciplines,
as Cholodenko's anthology attests). Perhaps this is the key way to think about
animation: not as a completely coherent field or discipline, but as a "multi-sited"
field. This could perhaps be thought of as an inversion of the idea of animation
as a "meeting point" of "other" disciplines. Instead of
animation existing in a place at the boundaries of related disciplinary knowledge
areas, in sufficiently coherent a sense to constitute a(n inter-) discipline
in its own right, it is instead a rather more diffuse -- but nonetheless epistemologically
potent -- set of ideas, theories, methods. Yet the problem remains of how to
adequately account for such apparent "diffuseness," and the related
issue of animation appearing to "be" in a number of different places.
figure 1
<20> Klein (1993) has
talked of "blurring, cracking, and crossing" boundaries, and how the
relationship between the so-called "frontier" of a discipline and
its "core" are important. She also notes the rhetorical nature
of a lot of the terminology (as I have noted in relation to the rhetorical/strategic
use of terms). For instance:
The blurring of disciplinary
boundaries is typically associated with research at the innovative frontier
of [a] discipline, the rhetorical foil of the established cooling core. As a
result of cracks the leading edge of a boundary that divides two disciplines
is often fuzzy, and talk of blurring is quickly accompanied by talk of interdisciplinarity.
(Klein, 187)
The suggestion of "earthquake"
terminology is fairly common -- mention of "fault lines," as well
as "hot" new research (to contrast with the "cooling" established
work noted by Klein), and a general sense of knowledges being constantly in
flux, bringing to mind lava flows. Another perhaps useful notion here is that
of earthquakes having epicentres and aftershocks. Here I am thinking of a "susceptible"
area (i.e., one where there are the aforementioned "fault lines")
being the "site" of an earthquake or tremor, but the effects of that
movement radiating outwards in a concentric pattern. Indeed, it is often the
case that an area can find itself subjected to a number of tremors, where the
effects will overlap and magnify each other. This metaphor is helpful in conceptualizing
how "movements" taking place on a disciplinary boundary might be felt
in their full force at that boundary, but will also make some kind (albeit
less) of an impact "further in" the respective meeting disciplines.
This might also go some of the way to explaining how a number of apparently
"localized" instances of boundary activity could actually constitute
a more or less coherent knowledge area. That is, the "ripples" radiating
out from specific research enquiries overlap and reverberate (see Figure 1).
Conceptualizing a knowledge area like Animation Studies as a series of related/overlapping
(but, at times, seemingly disparate/diffuse) enquiries means we have to stress
the discontinuous and fractured nature of the growth of knowledge in any particular
discipline. Instead of a naive "evolutionary" model of knowledge growth
and disciplinary development, we need to think more in terms of a model that
recognizes disjunctions and apparent dead-ends. To fall back on the metaphor
from earlier, it is possible for an area to lie dormant and then reawaken.
Animation as a "discursive"
field
<21> The ways that certain
areas exist as a "meeting point" for other knowledges is vital. Equally
vital is the (productive) tension between "insularity" and "overlap"
when it comes to thinking about knowledge areas and education. Certain areas
seem to pride themselves on how much they fall into one of these categories
-- the former clearly allied to other terms such as "purity," the
latter allied to possible "dilution." I'd like to discuss these broad
conceptual issues in relation to the notion of discursivity within and
between fields of knowledge.
<22> The concept of
discursivity in the sense that I am using it here derives from Foucault (1981).
Perhaps the most immediately applicable use of the term is in Alvarado and Ferguson's
1983 essay "The Curriculum, Media Studies and Discursivity." Their's
is a polemical stance that sees the concept of discursivity, and the field of
Media Studies, as a way out of an educational impasse. I'd like to briefly discuss
their use of the term discursivity and how it impacts on conceptualizing Animation
Studies as a field. In many respects, discursivity covers the ways that something
relates to its near-neighbors -- in short, does it "ignore" them?
does it "talk" to them? -- and it therefore makes us address the ways
that Animation Studies relates to areas like Media Studies and Film Studies.
Although discursivity is by no means a straightforwardly positive term, it can
be viewed in a positive light in the sense that it implies dialogue, some kind
of engagement, and so on.
<23> However, discursivity
also implies another term (which may or may not be usefully referred to as its
"opposite"): that is, "recursivity." If the discursive is
describing the relationship between things that are in some kind of dialogic
relationship (which is not to imply that that "dialogue" is necessarily
"equal"), then the recursive tends to describe something that is in
some sense in dialogue "with itself." Again, this is not an inherently
good or bad thing, but it does give us a conceptual term with which we can explore
issues surrounding the relative/perceived insularity or permeability of certain
knowledge areas. In short, a "discursive" field could be seen as positive
in the sense that it is engaging with "other" areas, but this could
lead to some dilution or confusion (a loss of specificity). On the other hand
a "recursive" field can be thought of as one that reflects upon itself,
maintains some sense of itself as itself, and this can lead to a highly-developed
idea of the field, but can also tend towards divorcing the knowledge from its
social context/s, and developing the area in the sense of "keeping up with
new developments" (which, by definition, means "looking outside of"
the knowledge area itself).
<24> Alvarado and Ferguson
are concerned to point out that the curriculum (in the UK, c. 1983, though many
of their arguments are more widely relevant, and still apply today) should move
towards a model that does not offer seemingly straightforward "presentations"
-- i.e., "knowledge" as a set of facts "about" the world.
Rather, it should recognize -- and teach -- in a reflexive way that openly acknowledges
the discursivity of the teaching process. Thus:
the core of the curriculum
would consist neither of a set of facts nor a series of processes but rather
of a recognition of the fundamental notion of symbolic systems. This
would involve the understanding that all experience is constituted by, through
and in relation to a range of symbolic systems and discursive practices
. . . Deriving out of them would be an engagement with all (or as many as feasible)
of the areas of "knowledge." Pupils would be offered a theoretical
base and structure upon which to build their understanding of the complexities
of the world as opposed to empirical accounts ["about" the world].
(Alvarado and Ferguson 1983, 31. Original emphasis)
Alvarado and Ferguson's chief
aim is to point to the curriculum's inability to deal with contradictions and
ideological fissures. They see the most significant factor in contributing to
this inability as the realist epistemology of the curriculum. There is
an irony here of course:
because realism
as dominantly conceived is ironically incapable of adequately handling, representing
or analysing the complexities of the real in an active or productive way --
of looking at the real as a dynamic, as process, as change. (ibid., 20.
Original emphasis)
The idea of "discourse"
is functioning on two levels. Firstly, as a noun, i.e., that of the "discourse"
of any particular subject or discipline (i.e., how it re/presents things, in
what way/s it says things, the "discursive formations" that it uses).
Secondly, as a verb, i.e., as something that has to be done and negotiated,
rather than a neutral "pathway" through a set of facts and figures.
I would also add that there is another double meaning here: the sense on the
one hand of discourse as the "internal logic" of a particular discipline
or subject; but, on the other hand, of seeing discourse as the way that a discipline
or subject relates to "other" subjects, particularly those that are
perceived to have much in common with the discipline in question. In short,
the term "discourse" (and the related "discursivity") is
complex and multi-layered, and forces us to ask lots of questions about how
a subject area represents "its" knowledge, how it represents
itself as a knowledge area and, perhaps most importantly here, how it
sees itself in relation to other areas.
<25> This is where the
distinction between the terms discursive and recursive is very useful. I think
that the essentially realist conception of knowledge and the curriculum to which
Alvarado and Ferguson point is one that relies overmuch on what I would term
a recursive model of how knowledge areas relate to each other. This is
not disagreeing with the bases of Alvarado and Ferguson's argument, but rather
it is developing what they argue. Discourse/discursive tends to mean "flowing
into" or "flowing from one place to another" (note that "cursive"
is a particular kind of writing -- joined up writing -- that "flows"
rather than one where individual elements remain distinct, like in old manuscripts),
with the implication being that one thing is "flowing into" or interacting
with, having a "dialogue" with another thing. From this comes the
general/common sense idea of "discourse" as a "conversation"
between two or more parties. Recursive, on the other hand, means "to flow
back into," to go back to, to return -- i.e., something flowing back into
itself. And the crucial additional point to be made here is that recursivity,
unlike discursivity, relies on things remaining separate or insular. Thus, the
traditional view of the curriculum consisting of a series of separate subjects
that have distinct "contents" (something that is exacerbated by their
separation at the level of teaching -- into recognizable periods of time with
different staff, etc.) is a decidedly recursive position. As Alvarado and Ferguson
make clear, a knowledge area such as Media Studies, as a fertile meeting point
of many other subject "voices," offers an important way that such
recursivity can be challenged and replaced by a more positive discursivity.
Animation Studies exists in a similar fashion, making explicit those important
issues of dialogue in and between subject areas. All this is not to say that
recursivity is an entirely negative factor, but that it needs to be seen as
being in a relationship of productive tension with discursivity: how subjects
and disciplines negotiate the friction between their "core" issues
and those deemed to be "marginal" is of course the most obvious manifestation
of such a productive tension.
<26> Douglas R. Hofstadter
(1980) has written about the terms recursive and recursion (the
latter of these is what I am calling recursivity, in order to stress
the links to discursivity). He describes two meanings for the term. First
of all, there is a recursive figure, which draws on the distinction between
figure and ground. That is
when a figure . .
. e.g., a human form . . . is drawn inside a frame, an unavoidable consequence
is that its complementary shape -- also called the "ground", or "background"
. . . -- has also been drawn. In most drawings . . . this figure-ground relationship
plays little role . . . but sometimes, an artist will take interest in the ground
as well. (67)
Hofstadter's main example
of such an artist is Escher, whose drawings demonstrate that "each figure-ground
boundary in a recursive figure is a double-edged sword" (ibid.). One cannot
distinguish with any certainty what is "figure" and what is "ground"
or, rather, each element of the drawings can be both figure and
ground, the distinction between them is made ambiguous. Escher's works therefore
seem to embody a paradox: they seem to "go on forever" and yet be
"bounded" or "closed off." But the sense in which they seem
to "go on forever" is a recursive one: that is, it is only by commenting
on "itself" that a work by Escher seems to "perpetuate"
itself. As Hofstadter puts it: "A recursive figure is one whose
ground can be seen as a figure in its own right" (ibid.). In other words,
they can be seen as "all figure" and "no ground."
<27> Applying these
concepts to disciplinary structures and the curriculum is useful in the sense
noted above. If a discipline falls into the (epistemologically "realist")
trap that Alvarado and Ferguson outline, then it can also, arguably, be termed
"recursive." That is, knowledge is presented as an unproblematic "set
of facts," clearly demarcated from "other" sets of facts. This
clear demarcation offers a seductive vision of knowledge areas, where they are
quite literally reduced to "all [facts and] figure[s]" and "no
[back]ground." This is problematic because what gets lost is the potentially
useful links that knowledge areas have to other areas, and the related fact
that all knowledge areas have a background. This "background"
could simply be equated to the broader "social context," but it also
needs to be recognized that a knowledge area's relationship with other knowledge
areas, and how it fits into the social and institutional contexts of which it
is a part, are elements of this background. They are also precisely the "discursive"
dimension of which Alvarado and Ferguson speak.
<28> Hofstadter suggests
a second meaning of the term "recursive," which could be equally useful
when considering disciplinary structures. He defines this as "nesting,
and variations on nesting" (127). What he means by "nesting"
in this context is something akin to "stories inside stories, movies inside
movies, paintings inside paintings . . ." (ibid.). But, he warns, we "should
be aware that [this] meaning of 'recursive' . . . is only faintly related to
[the first] meaning" (ibid.). This second meaning draws on some basic terms
of computer science (Hofstadter, the very definition of a polymath, has expertise
in music, mathematics, a PhD in theoretical physics, and teaches Computer Science)
to see recursion as a set of complex "stacks" or "levels."
Even the simplest of computer programs work on the basis of commands that take
one down a certain pathway, which then might require one to put that part
of the command "on hold" (or in a "stack") while one goes
down another pathway (or down another "level"). This can continue
more or less indefinitely, but the outcome is that the program will eventually
fulfil all its functions and end. In order to do so, it has to "reverse"
the stack by going back up the levels.
<29> Hofstadter uses
the metaphor of Russian dolls at one point, and this underlines why this type
of recursion isn't simply "something being defined in terms of itself
. . . but always [something being defined] in terms of simpler versions
of itself" (127). The notion of descending a level in order to clarify
is useful, as is the metaphor of something "nesting" inside something
else, particularly in relation to knowledge areas. The conception offered earlier
-- of overlapping "epicentres" of animation-related activity perhaps
constituting what is perceived by some to be a coherent Animation Studies "project"
-- could be reformulated so that, instead of "epicentres," we talk
of "nests." The idea of nodes of enquiry, situated in diverse positions
(e.g., "within" Film Studies, Art and Design, History, Engineering
. . .), yet in some sense constituting a knowledge area in their own right as
well, is an interesting one. It is also in keeping with the call for a model
that moves beyond more conventional notions of "interdisciplinarity,"
or of certain knowledge simply existing at the "margins" of more established
fields.
Conclusion
<30> By way of conclusion,
I'd like to return to the debate between Bradbury and Langer. While not suggesting
that one is calling for a more discursive approach while the other is calling
for a more recursive approach, it is certainly the case that their positions
can usefully be discussed in the light of these terms. As noted above, they
both recognize that animation needs to be viewed in a wider context, but I would
suggest that Langer's position is one that embraces discursivity more wholeheartedly.
As he states at one point:
The most illuminating
work on animation that I read . . . is generally work produced by historical
polymaths. There is a world of ideas, methodologies and historical experience
that animation scholars should be embracing, rather than retreating from in
some disciplinary quarantine. [At a recent conference] my knowledge of animation
was enriched by the contact that I had with scholars in a wide range of disciplines,
such as history, psychiatry, urban studies, comics, architecture, cultural studies,
the social sciences, etc. etc . . . We need more of this. And we definitely
should not be wrapping ourselves up in a shroud of historical purity. (Langer,
2000b)
The call for an Animation
Studies that is actively in dialogue with as wide a range of "other"
disciplines as possible could not be clearer. And, in many respects, it is the
opportunity for such a "multi-disciplinariness" that appears to attract
Langer to animation as an object of study (though arguably any object
could be approached in this manner).
<31> Bradbury's approach
is arguably more "recursive" in the sense that he seems to want to
retain animation as the central focus of any analysis. Furthermore, this focus
should thereby lead to a more nuanced understanding of animation as a representational
practice, as animation. He states:
Donald Crafton acknowledged
in . . . Before Mickey that animation is the least theorised of all film
mediums . . . and thus would at least then have given plausibility to the pursuit
of a discreet [sic] study of animation. Yes we can subsume animation as film
studies and have the result of animation as a ghetto of film studies . . . [Yet]
animation to survive had to become part of economic[ally] established flows.
But in what ways did animation transform or enhance those practices? (Bradbury,
2000b)
His worry that animation will
become subsumed to the interests of Film Studies is, generally speaking, something
that might bother a lot of academics: that "their" subject might be
"taken over" by something else. Yet, until we more fully understand
how a "map" of related knowledge areas might "fit together"
-- and how some subjects can apparently exist in a number of places, while still
retaining a sense of focus and identity -- then we will struggle to move beyond
what are, frankly, simplistic theories of how disciplines overlap and hold apart.
The concepts of discursivity/recursivity, along with the notions of overlapping
"seismic" activity, and Hofstadter's "nesting," are important
moves towards this fuller understanding.
Notes
[1] In the
UK context, we can point to a schools-based "National Curriculum,"
a seeming obsession with examining children at every possible stage of
their development and, in Higher Education, the idea of the Research Assessment
Exercise and Subject Benchmarking. Although these initiatives are not, in and
of themselves necessarily negative, the use to which they have been put by successive
governments has tended to be. The whole tone is one of positivist "cataloguing"
(often in "league tables") which has a coercive and damaging effect
on education as a whole. [^]
[2] See Ellen
Messer-Davidow, David R Shumway & David J Sylvan, "Introduction: Disciplinary
Ways of Knowing" in their (eds) Knowledges: Historical and Critical
Studies in Disciplinarity. [^]
[3] Examples
of which are: an overly simplistic "auteurism," which tends towards
an equally "basic" survey/overview methodology; related to this to
some degree is the tendency to make arbitrary distinctions between "high"
and "low" art in animation, in much the same way that popular cinema
and the avant-garde were seen "separately" in the 1970s. [^]
[4] See Hamlet,
Act II, Scene II, where Polonius describes the actors as
The best actors in
the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral.
[^]
[5] The index
page for this e-group is <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/>
Specific messages cited in this article are noted in the References, below.
[^]
Works Cited
Manuel Alvarado and Bob Ferguson
(1983), "The Curriculum, Media Studies and Discursivity: A Reconsideration
of Educational Theory," Screen 24(3): 20-34.
Keith Bradbury (2000a), email
to Animation Journal e-group discussion: <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/message/923>
Keith Bradbury (2000b), email
to Animation Journal e-group discussion: <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/message/937>
Alan Cholodenko (ed.) (1991),
The Illusion of Life. Sydney: Power Publications.
Phillip Drummond (1995), "Introduction:
Media, Culture and Curriculum" in Drummond (ed.) Changing English
2(2), London: Institute of Education.
Michel Foucault (1981), "The
Order of Discourse" in Robert Young (ed.) Untying the Text. London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Steve Fuller (1988), Social
Epistemology. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
Maureen Furniss (1998), Art
in Motion: Animation Aesthetics. Sydney and London: John Libbey.
Douglas R. Hofstadter (1980),
Godel, Escher, Bach: The Eternal Golden Braid. New York: Penguin.
Julie Thompson Klein (1993),
"Blurring, Cracking, and Crossing: Permeation and the Fracturing of Discipline"
in Ellen Messer-Davidow et al., (eds.) Knowledges: Historical and
Critical Studies in Disciplinarity. Charlottesville and London: University
Press of Virginia.
Mark Langer (2000a), email
to Animation Journal e-group discussion: <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/message/286>
Mark Langer (2000b), email
to Animation Journal e-group discussion: <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/message/925>
Ellen Messer-Davidow, David
R Shumway & David J Sylvan (1993), "Introduction: Disciplinary Ways
of Knowing" in Ellen Messer-Davidow et al., (eds.) Knowledges:
Historical and Critical Studies in Disciplinarity. Charlottesville and London:
University Press of Virginia.
Jayne Pilling (1997), A
Reader in Animation Studies Sydney and London: John Libbey.
Paul Ward (2000), email to
Animation Journal e-group discussion: <http://groups.yahoo.com/group/animationjournal/message/920>
Paul Watson (1997), "True
Lye's: Reanimating Film Studies" in Paul Wells (ed.) Art & Animation
[Special edition of Art & Design magazine, no. 53], London: Academy
Group Ltd.