Visual Rhetoric and Context/History

While I anxiously await the response to my SRR last week where I wondered how crucial context is to visual rhetoric, I figure it’s best to put it to everyone reading this: how crucial is context in the case of visual rhetoric?

I asked the question very deliberately in my previous SRR, as I think this has become a crucial question for me in the past few weeks; can visual rhetoric exist without context? And can’t context make nearly anything visually rhetorical? I keep coming back to the examples we’ve seen this semester and feeling like the tie between context (or history) and visual rhetoric is hard to break, if possible.

Starting with the piece from (I believe it was Helmers) on defining visual rhetoric through fine art, we see how the context of the paintings in question made them rhetorical. The meaning they possessed and therefore the argument they put forth hinged on the time in which they were experienced.

Similarly, the example of the pictures mountain ranges in Montana on Dr. Yancey’s cell phone—they’re not rhetorical to her, but placed in a new context, they might become rhetorical, like perhaps a conservationist rally. In that same vein, using my previous blog example, a game like Sega’s Jet Set Radio becomes rhetorical in its initial context—it utilized cel-shaded graphics, a radical new visual style in games being used to explore a controversial art style (graffiti). In short, it’s hard to imagine how an image, in a particular context or moment in history, couldn’t somehow be rhetorical.

Thus, the problem I have is that while I like to see things through Blair’s perspective and avoid the “Everything Is _____” bandwagon, when shifts in context and history are taken into account for, I struggle to think of a non-rhetorical image. I don’t want to say I can’t think of one in such a way that it implies that none exist—but I literally can’t think of one.

So, in the coming days, I look forward to the comments I get back from Dr. Yancey and anyone else so kind/bold as to respond, but: can an image be rhetorical without context or relating to history in some way as a result? And can any image, given the right context or historical emergence, avoid being rhetorical? These aren’t trick questions. This is a matter of genuine inquiry, as I find myself hung up on both of these matters.

A Stab at a Theory of VizRhet

What is required for an adequate theory of visual rhetoric? 

      I chose this question, because I think it’s particularly helpful in synthesizing all of the material we’ve looked at so far. That said, I don’t think the answer is particularly easy to find. Here’s an attempt: 

     The most important thing required for an “adequate” theory of visual rhetoric is a definition and understanding of rhetoric, which, as we see from our readings, is difficult to define. For Bitzer, rhetoric is situational, contextual, performs some text, alters reality, and is always persuasive. In fact, Bitzer suggests that “so controlling is the situation that we should consider it the very ground of rhetorical activity” (5). Here, it seems, the context from which the artifact arrives is most important. Other authors, in later readings, emphasize that the context in which the artifact participates is just as importance. In one of his texts, Hill suggests that visual rhetoric is associative -- that it works through symbols like Hill and Helmers suggest --  and that it functions in the realm of public sphere; in another he offers that presence, placement, and vividness of information are, in part, what makes an image rhetorical because those elements invite a kind of participation. Sontag suggests something similar that rhetoric invites identification, arguably another kind of participation. From all of these, I  see that the definition of rhetoric is fluid, yet does have some parameters. I’m going to take a stab at a definition of rhetoric synthesized from these readings -- bear with me: rhetoric is human-made (not natural), participates in some kind of public, circulates in that context, and reveals, reinforces, and/or alters the shared beliefs of a community. 

     The theory must pertain to artifacts that can be perceived by the eyes (this is important, because up until now, it seems like we’ve assumed that all people can see or that all people see in the same way). I’ve often wondered why it’s called visual rhetoric instead of imagistic rhetoric or rhetoric of the image, but now that we’ve discussed “image” as something that can be visual, verbal, and mental, I understand the difference. The difference between the visual and the image seems to be crucial to any theory of visual rhetoric. 

     It also must be anchored in a set of key terms or concepts. I stand by my group’s proposed set of threshold concepts: function, composition, rhetorical situation, meaning-making, and circulation, because I think they work with the definition I worked through above. 

     Finally, I think it’s important for a theory of visual rhetoric to understand the limitations and affordances of the visual. To Blair, visual communication is more “effective” than written communication, and I think that’s right, but we need to be aware that working within the visual is a rhetorical selection from the available semiotic resources; it is an intentional choice by a composer-rhetor. Understanding the reasoning behind that choice is crucial to understanding visual rhetoric. 

History Shaping Interpretation

     Coincidentally, as I worked on my 3rd project, I actually encountered a historical fact that changed some of my interpretations of the particular visual artifact I was studying.  I chose to do my project on the ichthys (or Christian fish) and the appropriations of it by proponents of evolution (i.e. Christian fish with legs, etc.).  I knew that the ichthys was originally a secret symbol that Christians used in the early days of Christianity to denote their faith to others.  In this sense, it was used as a recognizable object that their persecutors would not be able to identify.  However, when I was researching its history, I came across information that contended that the rationale behind the choice of this symbol was more complex.  The ichthys was actually originally a pagan symbol of fertility; thus, it was a symbol that not only was a secret to Christians, but drew upon prominent beliefs of the time, making it difficult to identify since it was so commonplace in Rome.

     I had already intended on focusing on how one ideology (secularism) had appropriated the symbol from another (Christianity), yet this history enabled me to understand that this symbol had been used by various belief systems.  This not only enriched my analysis but also provided me with a more thorough understanding of this visual artifact.

     In our readings for this week, once again I was confronted with historical facts that led to a more engaging interpretation of a visual artifact.  In Helvetica and the New York City Subway System, Paul Shaw traces the history of Helvetica in the MTA signage, yet contends that there is a false narrative that has Helvetica always having been the typeface.  Shaw concludes, "But it is not true--or rather, it is only somewhat true.  Helvetica is the official typeface of the MTA today, but it was not the typeface specified by Unimark International when they created a new signage system at the end of the 1960s" (xi).  He then goes on to trace the journey, which is oddly political, of Helvetica to the standard of MTA.  As he tracks the shifts in the signs over the years, I was struck by how complex this history was.  I would never have considered so much would have gone into the design and choice of typeface--it made me stop and ponder what kind of histories might be associated with other common design elements we encounter everyday.

     History seems a lot more prominent in interpreting visual artifacts than I initially thought.  Without a proper understanding of history, it would seem rather easy to make faulty assumptions as to the nature and/or function of particular visuals.  The hows, whys, and ifs of a visual's usages, circulation, design, etc. have a pronounced effect in regards to understanding it  (we can even see this Helmers' article on fine art).  In all likelihood, it would appear as if a visual artifact is inseparable from its history when doing analysis.  The history is just as critical as any other element in relation to the artifact.  



     

Visual Rhetoric, History, and Theory

We’ve now considered various dimensions of visual rhetoric, including the more utilitarian located in yet another history. Choose one of these questions. What is the role of history in shaping visual rhetoric? What is required for an adequate theory of visual rhetoric?

 

Vernacular Rhetoric

A vernacular memorial for someone I knew. The person who created it provided an explanation of the intent. Do *we* think it's rhetorical, and if so, how?

It's easier for me to analyze this, given that I have no connection to the image; what's interesting to me is the response evoked by the hurricane.

Mapping Designing/Designing Maps

There are many maps of the electoral college: here is one-->http://elections.nytimes.com/2012/electoral-map
Is is helpful? What does it show? What does it obscure? Could we revise it?

The one below is from a different election and relies on a different
unit of analysis. Is it helpful? What does it show? What does it obscure? Could we revise it

And not least (and looking forward): I chose to use a url and an inserted image: this forced you
to click to the url. What if any difference does that make?

It seems that visuals as rhetorical just complicates it the more. After the readings for this week, we now have to define rhetorical in regards to how we study visuals. Easy task? No. If  rhetoric is the study of persuasion (in broad terms), then why is visuals as argument not in fact the condition of being rhetorical.  Focusing on persuasion, this would not only include all visuals with persuasive influence, but also argument. In other words, how do we seperate a visual as argument and a visual as rhetorical? This is, of course, why visual rhetoric is so hard to define.

To great delight after reading Tange, I can now understand how I might differentiate visuals that are merely persuasive, and those argumentive. (yet I still think both are visuals as rhtorical) I now understand why there are so many sub genres (at least that's what I will call it), such as narrative, aesthetic, and argument. I can determine its properties and constraints in some degree, but also see how they can mesh with other genres. It seems that if argument is a form of persuasion, then all these subgenres are a form of rhetoric (if it is defined as persuasive). How overly inclusive is this? How are we to define something so large, with so many components?

If anything, visuals as rhetorical add to the field, and goes beyond the classroom, more than we could ever have imagined. Through technology, there are so many ways to "see" texts as not merely textual. We as a field have much to look forward to, and many papers yet to be written