Photograph by Nadya Lev
I realize that I am one of those bearers of trivial and specific information. It is a fault of mine that I assume people know what I'm talking about, although I make my assumption so as not to be condescending or pedantic.
I had thought steampunk was a well known genre and aesthetic (silly geek, genres are for fans!) but apparently I'm wrong. My friends who have a firmer grasp on mainstream reality have no clue and ask me to repeat the word "steampunk" several times with a puzzled look.
After my explanation, they still have that puzzled look. It's kind of cute, like a squirrel holding a nut and daintily gnawing at it while sitting on its haunches.
Anyway, steampunk (a term coined in 1987 by author K. W. Jeter [the Wikipedia page is better for info on Jeter than his web site]) is a subgenre of science fiction that imagines a world where steam technology reigns--whether in a parallel 19th century Victorian-era England--or in a futuristic utopia or dystopia that never was. It's like an extended, romantic, sometimes dark love affair with the Industrial Age.
An example that cropped up in the mainstream (but not necessarily labeled, hence the "Steam-what? Say that again. What?") can be seen in the movie, The Golden Compass, based on Philip Pullman's popular novels. The movie (blech), League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is also within this genre, and as a flick is far inferior compared to its source material by the inimitable Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill.
Yeah, I have a point!
I've been a fan of steampunk for a long time, but as I researched material on the Internet, I realized a few things:
An interior designer unfamiliar with steampunk described it as an example of "opposition" within design theory--design elements that work together because of their differences rather than similarities, and usually in an unexpected way.
Steampunk is usually set in the 19th century.
Refined + rugged = hot.
What do these realizations point out?
That I'm in love with the 19th century (as much as I'm in love with the Tang Dynasty, which lasted from the 6th-10th century by Western dates)--a period of fusion and opposition, synthesis of east and west, exploration and adventure, elegance and rusticity, apocalypse and renaissance.
There's a dark side, too, of course--imperialism, colonialism, and other unpleasant social ills that end in -ism. Don't even get me started on what the European countries were doing to China during this period.
So, this all makes everything make more sense to me. This is why I love the Millenium Falcon and Firefly. This is why Star Wars is strangely beautiful when, amidst high technology and rayguns, you have Western people dueling with swords made of light while wearing kimonos.
I love the contrast of old and new, the romance of a near-derelict ship held together by love--flying through space or propelled by steam. People surviving and inventing and rebelling against tyranny (the suffix "punk" to genres like cyberpunk and steampunk imply this).
The combining and assertion of cultures and identities is what I've been doing since being born in the United States.
It's what I express through my art.
And what, I am finding out, is my passion.
I.
4 comments:
I must say, I love how your verbal language emerges when your visual language recedes.
This description of strange and beautiful discordant harmony reminds me of the photo of the tree from a few posts back.
Yes, it's the same aesthetic.
I keep thinking how you said that despite the new label ("Rustic Revival"), everything was as it always had been.
I find that now with steampunk. It's a kind of a "duh/epiphany" moment. I've been fascinated with the 19th century for a while now--from my interest in science illustration to the Symbolists and Decadents who are my art role models.
The spirit of that century informs so much--from the Industrial Gothic of The Matrix (first and really, the only film) and interior design of The Edison (www.edisondowntown.com) in Los Angeles, to the sleek future of Star Trek with its five-year Beagle-esque voyage to explore strange new worlds.
Then again, these are 20th and early 21st century works. I wonder what the later part of this century will bring?
I notice, too, the way my verbal language emerges when the visual language takes a backseat. I'm not sure if I want to be able to do both at the same time (at least not yet). I swap because I think I'm trying to be fair to my hemispheres.
I find the "everything was as it always had been" thing pops up with diagnoses, especially when parents first hear something pervasive and "incurable" like their child is on the Autistic Spectrum. I realize that for some, it's a great relief to have a label because it ends their search for a fitting name and begins their journey toward ameliorating symptoms. But for most of the parents I've seen go through this, it's devastating...even though it's the same exact child as before the label. Yes, same struggles but also the same strengths, joys, etc. Hmmmm...I don't really have a point; I'm just babblin' here!
I suppose all epiphanies are duh moments. I mean if Glenda had given Dorothy something new instead of pointing out something she'd already had in/on her, it wouldn't have been such a great moment. I've always thought of epiphanies as the realization/uncovering of something that is already there instead of the discovery of something new. Once again, just babbling pointlessly here...
I love your babbling! I learn so much.
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