I like to think about the essay as reflective of the mind at play. Most notably, I like to think of Montaigne’s discursive, free play: “my style and my mind alike go roaming” (Essayists, 5). I wanted my essays to be playful and liberated. When I sat down to write/create the essays for this class, I tried to intuitively write my first draft. I wanted to capture the genuine free play of my mind. I refused to outline or plan beforehand—something I usually do before writing a literary criticism, reading response, or short story. I’m not sure if I succeeded as there seemed to be a structure in my head despite my resistance to planning. But, besides that, there are obstacles to this method. The first being that an essay, while following a “train of thought,” does not display the actual train, but a “cleaned-up train of thought” (Graham, 171). If an essay truly portrayed the mind’s movements, it would be made of a collection of random thoughts, contradictions, images, and scattered anecdotes. The challenge then, was to revise in a way that maintained the impression of a genuine mind exploring a question or topic, while also forming some logic for the “train of thought.”

The key is balance. The essay cannot be totally scattered and contradictory, nor totally logical. Speaking of balance, I’d like to mention the usefulness of Aldous Huxley’s three poles of the essay: the personal/autobiographical, the concrete/particular, and the abstract/universal (Essayists, 88). While I have criticized Huxley for labeling the essay as anything, his philosophy was indispensable while I wrote/created essays. When I tried to balance the contradictory and logical portions of the essay, I also tried to balance all three of these poles. When I noticed I was being pulled too far to one pole, I tried to incorporate different elements of the personal, concrete, or abstract respectively. To achieve balance, I tried to revise as intuitively as I had written the first draft. I cut sections, added sections, and rearranged, but I did so without any written planning or outline.

As for the construction of each specific essay, I don’t think it’s surprising to hear that I learned more about my subject as I progressed. In every form of my essay, I explored its subject from a different angle: “I cannot keep my subject still” (Montaigne, 3).

My first textual essay focused on the origin of speech. I wanted to know how speech began, and what would have solicited speech from a primitive human being. I was most focused on humans. I had not yet begun to think about other forms of communication. Writing about speech made me wonder why I was so interested in the act. I had two thoughts that I explored: 1. My brother has autism and is unable to speak and 2. I have my own issues with social anxiety/shyness (the personal). I then explored my own experience speaking in the classroom (in front of all those students!) and the absolute amazement I feel that human beings speak so casually, yet the process of speech is so complex (abstract/universal). At the same time, I tried earnestly to answer the question of the origin of speech and found a research study that suggested that tool building and speech were correlated (concrete). As I wrote, I realized I was writing more about my brother. And so, in the next form—the audio essay—I changed tactics and moved further into the pole of the personal.

In the audio essay, I wanted my brother to be more present—a voice in the essay as well as the subject of the essay. I agreed with Jeff Porter’s assertion that “the voice was a medium in its own right” (Essayists, 193). Voices should not be submerged in narrative or text. If they can be heard, they should be. Therefore, I made recordings of my interactions with my brother and my Mom. After I had recorded those pieces, I again created the essay in an intuitive manner. I intertwined my Mom’s conversation and my interactions with my brother. One thing I tried to avoid here was directly answering questions when I changed audio. Doing so would have crafted an essay that was too logical, an essay that did not “refuse any definition of its concepts” (Adorno, 85)—making it more like an audio documentary than an essay. I did not want to create a linear story about my brother that answered questions I had asked my Mom or vis versa. As for the balancing of Huxley’s poles, I thought I may have moved too far into the personal. There were some takeaways that could be seen as abstract/universal (the importance of being with someone; always assuming the best; appreciating the moment), but I still felt I should pursue a more universal inquiry in the essay’s next form.

For the video essay, I attempted to move back towards a more universal exploration, but I still tethered this attempt loosely with the personal. I used my Mom’s conversation as the central audio throughout the piece. As for the subject, I wanted to think of non-verbal forms of communication—something I had ignored in my first and second essay. Thus, I compiled several videos where communication is separated from the voice. I did not want the images to exactly correspond to what my Mom was saying. Bresland cites the “promiscuity of the image” such that an image “resists the precision of language” (Essayists, 183). He goes on to label this characteristic as a “feature” of the video essay (184). Thus, I thought it was important, when working with video and audio, to create some dissonance between sound and image. I tried to make the personal play on the level of audio and the universal/abstract to play on the level of image. I also bookended my video essay with my own narration to introduce my brother and whether he thinks/can understand us, following with a conclusion of my own thoughts to give the essay some concreteness and logic.

And then, I had to think about how I would incorporate everything into the revision of my first textual essay. What a difficult proposition! But, then again, why should I incorporate any of it? Why not take another path? Why force the subject to stay still?

I wrote the textual revision intuitively (surprise!) and I was again drawn to the personal pole. I wanted this textual version to be more involved in my personal exploration, but act as the vehicle for larger questions. I also remembered an observation that I hadn’t written about: while recording my brother and I, I noticed that I often talked to Pat as if he would answer. And sometimes I would pretend as if he had responded. So, I decided to begin with that conceit in my textual revision. I thought this would be genuine, and offer some humor. I thought that my previous essays were too sentimental, and didn’t really capture my voice. Honestly, I had not even considered my voice (written or spoken) in the previous essays. I referred to Sara Levine in her essay, “Self on a Shelf” when thinking about how to represent my voice textually. She describes the self as being formed from the combination of linguistic choices, pronoun shifts, discursions, formalities, and informalities (Essayists, 161). I included a pronoun shift to “you” in my revision essay, but otherwise, I tried not to think about my voice. I tried to write freely and have fun. I wanted more humor and more informalities than in the original essay. I wanted this essay to capture my voice and tone. I thought the best way to do that was to become engaged with the subject again, and write until I was finished.

As for the composition of the essay, I recycled some ideas from previous essays. I kept my amazement of speech from the first essay, although I rewrote the section. I included a short conversation with my Mom that is reminiscent of her audio (but not exact). And I transferred the plant image from my video essay (with a personal touch). I tried to examine my personal relationship with my brother and his speech more acutely, while using this exploration to think about larger questions (non-verbal communication, speech and connection).

I don’t think my thoughts about the essay have changed much after completing this portfolio. I still think of it as the reflection of a mind at play. It’s impossible to truly capture the movement of the mind over a subject. But, thinking of the essay as never finished or fixed, but always evolving, allows the essay to at least resemble the mind. I think of balance in an essay rather than any definitive characteristic. Through these essays, I’ve learned more about the essay’s process. It involves patience, rewriting, and a willingness to experiment and explore different paths and trajectories, always looking for something “real”—that thing that, in the back of your mind, you know you’ll never find. By something “real” I mean what is simultaneously truth and untruth—the metaphysics behind metaphysics, the gold of El Dorado, the unobtainable—something the mind can’t help but grasp at.

 

Works Cited

Klaus, Carl H., and Ned Stuckey-French eds. Essayists on the Essay: Montaigne to Our Time.

Iowa City: U of Iowa, 2012. Print.

Adorno, Theodore W. “From ‘The Essay as Form.’” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 82-87.

Bresland, John. “On the Origin of the Video Essay.” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 181-85.

Graham, Paul. “From ‘The Age of the Essay.’” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 171-73.

Huxley, Aldous. “From the Preface to Collected Essays.” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 88-90.

Levine, Sara. “From ‘The Self on the Shelf.’” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 159-66.

Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de. “From ‘Of Practice,’ ‘Of Repentance,’ and ‘Of Vanity.’” Klaus

and Stuckey-French. 1-6.

Porter, Jeff. “Essay on the Radio Essay.” Klaus and Stuckey-French. 186-93.