Genna Camelia
Professor Anderson
Advanced non Fiction
11/5/2015
Reflection: The Artiste
What does it mean, really to write an essay? And what happens when you convert that essay, which is read, to a new medium, which is heard? I found the transition from reading to hearing an interesting challenge. It made me realize that we simply do not speak the way that we write. There where surprising issues that would arise in the audio essay that would never be an issue in a written essay: tongue twisters, alliteration, awkwardness of speech, and most of all, the art of mimicking real – talk. This audio essay made me realize that speech is by no means perfect and an audio essay is meant to capture that imperfection wrapped up in the best take that we do.
My first challenge came from trying to convert my essay into something interesting. On the page, (hopefully) my musings about art and graffiti were interesting but also, perhaps beautiful. When writing my audio script, I realized that reading my essay exactly as is, can be boring. For instance, in my essay, I list artists who I admire. The list within the context of the essay is not obtrusive or boring, but rather interesting because I list mostly modern or postmodern expressionists which in of itself is revealing my limited preference for art. However, in the audio essay, listing quite so many artists is flat out boring. It sounded almost like a droning machine, rather than acting as an insight into my preferences. The revelations that I may have had on the page about myself may seem exciting but listening to it sounds a bit like Ben Stein calling “Beuller.” From the group work and really getting a clear indication of what an essay can do, which is be playful, I realized that the listener wants to hear about the silly stuff just as much as the beautiful. I didn’t arrive upon the idea that I had a kindred spirit in this unnamed graffiti artist immediately anyway! First I “trolled,” the internet trying to figure out what graffiti was all about. So I mentioned that in my essay to get a sense of what I do when I think about things; I latch onto funny stories like ancient Romans drawing penises on walls. I am maturity incarnate and now the listener knows.
Even with my revisions, there were still aspects of my language from the written essay that I was reluctant to give up. When writing anything and revising, we almost fall in love with our own language because we thought of it, and because it is beautiful. But I don’t speak so eloquently; I stumble, I navigate a quasi-accent that I have picked up from listening to my father as well as living amongst the accented New Englanders. Words do not sound the way that I want them to when I say them. And that bothered me, so I cut them. I made my script easier to pronounce and easier to stumble through with a head cold. More importantly, I took the “fluff,” out, because if I were relating a story to a friend, chances are, I will not speak it eloquently. Perhaps I would have inflection in my voice or I will start laughing as I tell it, or maybe my quasi-accent would get thicker as I got angry or annoyed, but the point is that it is not necessarily pretty. I suppose that in itself encapsulates the idea of “sick of it all,” being beautiful to me. This graffiti told me a story in a not so beautiful format.
Making this audio essay helped me as a student because my ultimate dream job would be to write scripts for films or TV Shows. I had misunderstood what my screenwriting text book meant by creating perfect dialogue. I thought initially that it meant that we had to use the most efficient dialogue because of screen time. But what it really meant is that we need to create a voice that is real and natural without the stuttering “uhms,” or unfortunate sniffles. You have to create a script that is believable and well-paced, mimicking both perfect and imperfect speech. That is the true goal of the audio essayist.