My final essay and my project based on the concept from The Deep and Derek Walcott’s poem 🙂
The exact number of deaths during the Middle Passage is unknown, and I wanted to convey it artistically, with literature and numbers. The sea keeps all of this as archived, even if we don’t want to know it.
Not only do I feel like so much of this class taught me about the way these issues that are supposedly isolated to politics are anything but that, I feel like I’ve learned so much more about myself and how to interact with a society focused on so little.
Literature when it comes to the environment, because it expands to both the social-emotional and literal definition people recognize, is such a zoomed out view of what goes on. We’re such a small part of such an incredibly large world, with so many actions that people can do to improve and upkeep that.
I love learning that humanity needs to focus less on themselves; it’s such a basic thing to consider, to remember to be selfless as people who exist in a world full of creatures we don’t know or understand, but it’s so forgotten. Remembering that there’s entire beings that have their own lives, their own issues and surroundings and a million other things we’d never think of is something so vital to becoming more well-rounded people. On top of it, it reminds us how many things go on socially, how many interpretations of simple things come about because of the way we all recognize the world, and I loved developing a better empathetic understanding.
The environment and its vitality to us is so incredible to learn; it feels like finally putting such a collective look at everything around us and everything I’ve ever known. I am so grateful that I took the class, and grateful to learn so much from Professor Pressman and everyone that shared their own ideas about our readings. It was genuinely an incredible class and experience, that I took away really valuable skills with analysis and understanding of so much more than just literature from. 🙂
For my final project, I want to expand on my post about Derek Walcott’s poem about the sea’s history, and how much hold water has on human history. The original focus of my post was how it pushes the human need to utilize violence and imperialism as a land marker for human record. The sea’s ability to act as a mass that holds memory is expanded on within his poem, as well as many other works throughout our readings.
I want to expand on how the sea keeping so many of humanity’s secrets makes it something so integral to society; nature surrounds us and keep track of everything we do and do not see. Without it, we have no complete and unbiased book on what truly occurred to us, so it requires recognition, and thereby protection, from us to keep its stability possible. By tying in some of the themes of Sirenomelia and The Deep as other credited resources, it proves how versatile the message remains through the same story, told in different ways.
Tate Mcrae represents the alluring and dangerous sound of the siren as love, something captivating in a beautiful way, in her song “Siren sounds” to uphold this ideal about sirenic ability to lure people in; she then utilizes it to describe what is known to be damning and destructive so often becomes elusive and craved. Natural human instinct desires to delve further in regardless of cautionary tales, to be so entranced by and succumb to their treacherous wants because it signifies momentary pleasure.
The song reflects her deeper feelings about one particular love, and how this partner of hers stays alongside her in spite of the danger that they both clearly recognize approaching. Her emotions, and overall argument presented are embedded majorly in the repeating lines of the second half of the chorus: “Might be crazy to stick this out /But we can’t see all the flames around/You and I, and I/We’re just dancin’ to the siren sounds” (Mcrae, 0:43-0:56). Her immediate recognition of their behavior, saying it appears as ridiculous or “crazy” to anyone else, is the first admittance that these actions, to anyone else, are irrational. In really analyzing her word choice though, it becomes quite clear how this view doesn’t seem to impact her, or become completely internalized whatsoever. Specifically claiming that they “might be crazy” carries so much weight in recognizing her argument; there is this underlying sense of the reality, but an overwhelming amount of carelessness as to what is factual, in order to feel the good parts of their love.
This narrative seems to continue with the way she describes their oblivion against everything going on, that they are physically blinded to the torture. Her particular choice in the world around them as on fire places an emphasis on this hot, blazing passion, as a result of its typical usage as a comparison to intense emotion. Its all consuming nature could potentially hurt them both, but they seem to choose the bliss that comes with being ignorant to their situation. The enticement that comes with these situations that could cause injury makes her and her lover choose to keep their eyes blinded to this inferno around them that could collapse their world. Getting so invested in this and pretending it won’t hurt you, like sitting right next to the fire knowing how you may get burned, ingrained itself in human nature because it brings that singular moment of joy. The beauty of love before it falls, the warmth of a fire before it spikes and chars your skin, all fuels this human need to seek what is clearly harmful. If it provides just a moment of excitement, human nature wants to choose to risk it.
She continues to emphasize how much choice really plays a role in this, and how much agency she truly has. Part of the narrative of sirens in day-to-day media, in easy access stories that people find when they do not diligently study to understand sirens, is their entrapment. The men they push into the dark waters to their deaths, or the way sirens are held hostage by their hybridity all perpetuate this idea that no choice is allotted to their lifestyle. Mcrae flips this narrative when she emphasizes herself, a feminine figure, in discussing how they dance. Her repetition, which plays an incredibly crucial role in reiteration and absolution throughout the song, occurs solely on the pronoun that depicts her as a force of her own desire, “And I, and I”. It combines both this idea that sirenic relation does not automatically denote the loss of agency people tend to assume, but also that these subjectively agonizing decisions come from deep within the psyche. It is her and him that decide to dance, that want to stay and be deluded by that burning before them, if it means they bask in each other’s presence for that moment.
Actual mentions of hybrid aquatic beings don’t appear as a part of her story until the final line of the repetition, where she claims they dance away to its beautiful incantations. The “siren sounds” refers to the commonly mentioned tale within myths, where the sirens utilize beautiful voices to the point of hypnosis to draw men in for a multitude of reasons. In her case, it metaphorically refers to the way love feels so encapsulating, so all encompassing that people become mesmerized by it. It is to the point that they become blinded to everything negative about it, the same way these sirens depended on men to be so entranced by them, they forgot what they knew to be true about their malicious intentions. She emphasizes though, that they are not simply put to sleep by it; they forge their own path once again to flourish and enjoy themselves in it, because they deny that the destruction could ever catch up to their excitement. While their delusion creates the imagery that their love is without fault, it is their agency that allows them to forge it as something they enjoy, because of this inner desire to keep after this uncertainty.
The entire message she conveys, the way humanity desires that which damns us for brief enjoyment, the idea that people choose these things of their own free will, that every rational thought would go directly against this kind of action, is represented quite holistically when it comes to Odysseus and the sirens he encounters during his journey. Within The Odyssey, the warning of sirens he will inevitably face from Athena mimics this idea of how Mcrae’s character becomes cognizant of the insanity in their relationship through other’s weariness. Odysseus eventually makes this choice to allow his men to cover their ears, but tie him to the mast for him to gain the knowledge that the sirens are known to spread. It originates this idea of human need to go after what is infamous, as he and Mcrae both make this choice, reiterating their “And I” or guaranteeing his men will not remove him. They crave so desperately to chase their ultimate desires, regardless of its volatile reputation. In both cases, there is that allure of some grand objective, her love and him knowledge, that becomes enough to overpower their rational thought. They take major risks, despite understanding how it can inevitably scorn them, because their human naivete believes this fleeting fulfillment is worth it.
Siren nature, their sounds and their stories, ultimately demonstrate this sovereignty that they have, and how it eventually became a reflection of human decision. Despite the understanding of how some pieces of life inherently cause damage, people still seek them. Tate Mcrae’s song “Siren sounds” utilizes how the power of being the deciding factor in one’s life allows them to do whatever they desire, regardless of peril. Experiencing even just a second of satisfaction is enough motivation to throw their caution to the sea.
Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History rounds out a really beautiful image that was begun by the first short film we saw, Sirenomelia. They both utilize the ocean in such an intricate way to point out human emphasis on violence as something of value, rather than destruction.
His opening of the poem, asking the sea, “Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?” (Walcott, line 1) reflects so much more than just his question as to why the ocean isn’t appreciated. The questions feel somewhat rhetorical, that there’s nothing to memorialize the ocean when it does so for itself. It stretches on for miles and miles; so much of this never ending mass existed long before human record, or humans themselves, did. It is his choice of wording though, that seems to trigger this idea of more than just being about the sea’s need to be recognized for its totality. He asks about monuments, these statues and physical representations of what once was in order to be faced by every following generation for its bravery; he asks about battles and martyrs, these incredibly discussed and revered objects of discussion because of their sacrifice. All of it though ties together when analyzing all of the terms base themselves in violence, in war-like imagery.
Monuments of the modern day often depict leaders of military, or political figures who incited some sort of change that often resulted in violence because of the overwhelming resorting measures to it in our culture. Battles are the most obvious, with the heavy denotation towards wartime activity, with martyrs often being seen as those involved in these battles. Relating these images, of what society often describes as frightening and gory when looked at in the present tense, to something as gentle and peaceful as the sea creates this greater comparison of how society views appreciation. It ties itself to violence; we crave it to prove our superiority and simultaneously, our appreciation for it. In order to truly be seen as an object of affection or of worth, we must prove we’re worthy through our ritualistic behavior.
This emphasis we place on it additionally seems to prove the reason that Walcott must ask the question at all: the way we view the ocean is the main reason we do not consider it an incredible source of life. In describing it as this peaceful and beautiful place, in the phrases we use of its gentle ebbing and flowing, it becomes associated with this antithesis of our culture demand for aggression. It cannot be fathomed that the ocean is a valuable part of day-to-day life and habit if it does not revolve around these primal needs to prove dominance over the rest of the beings on our territory. In order to ever have a place, it must be a part of this torturous ideal; it must carve out its name in death.
The most stand out part of Sirenomelia is the abrupt shift of visual about half-way through. While it begins on this beautiful scene of ice, although melting at the result of global warming and various human contributed factors, there’s a sudden shift once the siren, who I presumed to be Sirenomelia, appears.
The total juxtaposition of scenery really emphasizes how humanity seems to overtake everything, and the same point that has been discussed ad nauseam in class: humanity craves to be completely separate and disconnected from that around us. The arctic’s peacefulness is truly emphasized because we watch it, completely silent and still, for so long. No dialogue, no human intervention, the entire scenery truly forces humanity to recognize how abundant the environment is. Because of its distance, of its unintentional border from most human life, recognition of the arctic seems to fall out of realm of understanding. It’s known that it’s icy, that it faces extreme disaster with the recent climate crises, but beyond that, many people, especially those who don’t actually seem to care about the climate, cannot truly conceptualize any issues.
It’s almost for this reason that Sirenomelia doesn’t really appear in complete view until the shift has occurred, and feels representative of this human border drawn between the natural and the mortal. The siren, this creature that humans aim to completely separate of our experience despite being half human, cannot even be associated with anything too natural. It’s as if the human part of her will never be allowed to reach this level of absoluteness of nature, nor can she ever be entirely immersed in the capitalistic, terrestrial so she lies in this murky in between that we consider “other”. The dirty water that lies beneath bridges, that comes between random buildings and concrete fixtures far enough from society that we forget about them too.
Truly, Sirenomelia feels like yet another representation of how we desire to absolve ourselves from the idea of nature, how human behavior should be an entirely separate class because we desire wholeness when it comes to us. Time and time again, it is our selfish nature to be this top predator, to be the principle that everything must be compared to for definition, that drives this wedge between what should be apart of us, and what we are absolutely a part of.
In discussing our intertwined dynamic with nature, I think deer might be one of the most obvious and imperative examples. Obviously, they’re an animal pretty closely connected to man because we encroached so deeply into their habitats, and because they’re such a commodity in hunting culture. Not only have they become such a universal symbol of innocence, they are so engulfed with our language, the way we continue to discuss.
Deer makeup and costumes recently became quite popularized for their allegory to a loss of innocence. This connected to this overwhelming comparison of them as innocent animals, as incapable of harm. From Disney stories like Bambi, whose family posed no threat and became an easy target, to juxtaposing horror movies that make them the villains because it’s so unexpected by the audience. On social media, it became a trend to dress up as a deer, then utilize red makeup to portray a target directly in the center of their forehead, an ode to hunting and how deer are so often the desired outcome. It played on the same idea as so many people connected it to their experiences with losing their innocence, through grief, through sexual assaults, through abusive instances within their lifetime. In my mind, it connected deeply with stories like that of Melusine. Her experience with a “loss of innocence” of sorts when she’s forced to become this monster, and again when she experiences that extreme betrayal by her husband choosing to directly ignore her instruction to stay away on Saturdays. She goes from this youthful, gently-spirited woman, to a devastated woman who seems to lose herself; she transforms from the docile deer to the mutilated carcass at the hand of man.
When it comes to language, we utilize even the simplest phrases of “Oh dear!” or making it a pet name amongst people. While it all seems quite trivial, throughout our discoveries, it has become more and more clear that nothing about our choices when it comes to language could be considered trivial. Their gentle nature, their ability to be such peaceful creatures made them something people compare to loved ones, those they hold closely because of their inner beauty. It only emphasizes the idea of innocence when we look at the usage of it amongst parents; they consider their children so dear because they’re innocent, young and agile the way deer continued to be represented and perceived. The biggest language choice that stands out is that of “doe eyes”; it’s this label we use for that big, wholesome look in a person’s eyes, the one place it’s nearly impossible to hide emotion. The term comes with this connotation of sensitivity, of gentleness and represents how we view these people, speaking as someone who has been labeled by doe eyes my entire adult life. It truly rounds out this image, this belief in deers as this beautifully simple part of lives, and how we often forget this when it comes to the real thing.
The first of the readings this week, although incredibly content and numerically heavy, really seemed to open my eyes about a reality we know, but don’t think of: water outnumbers us by an immeasurable amount.
It’s specifically the way it’s enumerated and compared within the Ocean Reader introduction: “The largest of the regions is the Pacific Ocean, which is an expanse of 64 million square miles (about 165 million square kilo- meters [km]). It is difficult to grasp such enormous dimensions. By contrast, the landmass of Asia, the largest continent, is only about 17 million square miles (44 million square km), while North America covers just 9.5 million (24.6 million square km), of which the United States represents less than half, with 3.8 million square miles (9.8 million square km)” (Roorda, 2). Obviously, the fact that the Earth is 70 percent water is considered a common place fact, but it’s never really actualized how greatly that stretches across the physical space unit its existence becomes contrasted to something we recognize. It returns us to this conversation from class prior, that human beings consistently need to label based on comparison and recognizing it because of what it is not.
This disconnect of disregarding water, and treating as some sort of minute thing compared to our landmasses, only for it to be larger than even our largest areas, really puts it into perspective how disproportionately human beings seem to recognize the world around them. It’s so common to hold this assumption that because we can identify ourselves as sentient, it places us above everything else in this ecological food chain. The decision making and this labeling of important versus not becomes ours to choose, ours to define in spite of never recognizing its capacity because of our typical definition models. Despite being so commonly terracentric in our speech, so selfish in the way we acknowledge the world around us and never considering how our speech, our action, even our momentary thought has lasting effect, the water really has all the power.
The usage of mermaids in media, specifically in song writing and visuals, emphasizes this allegory between them and women grappling with their relationships, good or bad. In Taylor Swift’s new music video, The Fate of Ophelia, she utilizes mermaid visuals at one point in order to reflect this siren-like beckoning that love often brings, only to be met by betrayal. However, in recognizing the incredibly particular details of her portrayal of them, it creates the antithesis of the narrative that sirens solely act as villains of the a man’s story, existing to lure and deceive; rather, she chooses to recognize them as these elusive, but real and necessary, sentient characters with their own story to represent.
The song itself, from the title alone, reflects deep connections to literature. Taylor reflects on the story of Ophelia from Shakespearean literature, a character who was driven mad by the men around her and her lack of value to them as a human being to the point that she drowned herself, Within the music video, she creates multiple textually based worlds to continuously relate this concept throughout storytelling of various women. At one minute and fifty-one seconds, four mermaids appear at the bottom of a pirate ship visual, indicating the first of many direct correlations to mermaid literature.
Their appearance comes in as the lyrics “And if you’d never called for me” (Swift, 1:51-1:54) are sung, sparking this stereotypical connection to sirens. In most stories, their fate lies in luring men from safety, down dark and treacherous paths into the sea and inevitably, to their deaths. Them resting in the water, at the bottom near the plank she’s eventually forced to walk off the ship additionally reinforces this narrative of how mermaid-esque creatures seem to drag them into danger. This translates into women and love, as sirens often represent the parts of women that make them so desirable externally, and simultaneously, their internal softness. Even if it seems willing, surroundings seem to coerce the gentleness of women into giving in, knowing how it only brings ruin to their most vulnerable selves. This association of entrapment to mermaids and sirens, combined with escalating visuals of fighting between the pirates and Swift’s character in that moment, all points to this overwhelming theme that women are doomed in love, as are men lured by sirens. No real joy can find them as long as they are haunted by this narrative, as long as they are always seen this way.
However, she spins the narrative in order to reflect the reality, that this love she’s referring to, that real and genuine love truly proves the opposite of all of these expectations previously written out for women. The sirens never instigate harm; in fact, they never reach for her at all, or anyone for that matter. It really reflects sirens and their connection to women as defenders, rather than seeking to draw them in the way they do with men. They aim to protect here, to act as this shield from falling into deceitful love once again. At the same time, the lyric continues to say “I might’ve lingered in purgatory”(1:55-1:58), referring to this despondence felt in that post-relationship state. In nearly every telling of sirens, their seeking out of a human being destroys the mortal’s life; the minute they choose to “fall”, they become stuck in this situation and oftentimes, never escape their ultimate fate of death. Referencing this saving, this ability to escape, shifts their alignment to be that of a positive ideal, that sirens existence does not automatically mean everything to follow will crumble. It brings them again as a figure of admiration for women, as a sense of security to their innermost selves. If anything, it juxtaposes typicality of love in the means of a couple; their individual existence, that whole and real love coming from them, saves human beings, namely women, from this unfortunate fate.
These antitheses only seem to escalate when recognizing even the most minute details of lyric choice. In the previous verse, the same line ends in “I might’ve drowned in the melancholy” (Swift, 0:39-0:42). The usage of drown to a visual completely unrelated to sirens, and linger when they are present furthers this intention to alter the beliefs surrounding siren nature, and thereby love. Keeping them entirely separate from these visuals of death with the water emphasizes them as non-harmful aquatic beings; their existence does not automatically mean death by drowning, rather an eventually peaceful and hopeful resurfacing to ease. Love’s existence, women being engulfed in it does not equate to an immediately crushing demise, but a soft and easy landing into this fate of finding more.
Imagery that affiliates itself with sirens comes into play once more in her lyricism, as she describes how love wraps around her “like a chain, a crown, a vine, pulling me into the fire” (2:00-2:07). It almost acts as a recall to this association of entrapment and fire’s correlation with eventual destruction. Again though, this wrapping visualizes how these sirens are seen as something enclosing and withholding, when it lies in the eyes of those witnessing and experiencing. This surrounding becomes a positive thing, the way sirens act as this kindness to women by shielding them. In the same sense, this encasing nature that’s referenced in the lyrics becomes actualized in the way that this all-consuming love seems to act as a force-field, as this barrier between happiness and hopelessness. It encompasses as a protection and finalizes the place of sirens as the image of safety, of how love’s all-consuming nature only aids it in its forcefield like state.
While all of the messaging points to this idea of love, of romance, it really fleshes itself out in the overall messaging behind Swift’s entire era. The Life of a Showgirl depicts this need to perform, as a celebrity, as a musician, and above it all, as a woman. Every visual within the music video references this showgirl like quality of womanhood, a constant need to be acting put together and impressing. Sirens and mermaids alike feel like one of the oldest representations of this feminine need to perform, to act in order to have their presence validated and valued. From stories like Undine to shield the ugly, or the Little Mermaid giving herself up entirely, women sacrifice and reshape themselves all for the love they think Swift pushes. This love she refers to really means within us; the woman’s need to wholeheartedly accept who she is, to accept the dirty siren that is so constantly demonized because, at her heart, she is good. This constant rejection of who truly lies underneath the “human” half must end; we must find acceptance of our whole mermaids in order to save ourselves from that treacherous “Fate of Ophelia”.
Besides the obvious intrigue of this week’s readings that discuss so many sightings of mermaids in very early years, I was drawn to the way they discuss the shift of their view. While we’ve analyzed at length the difference between their original view in society as creatures of lust, to a symbol of femininity and fertility, to their modern interpretation as child’s play, there doesn’t seem to be much of this recognition from the previous generations during the existence.
The exact statement really holds a lot of value: “The Mermaid has long been considered by many as a fabulous animal, but some naturalists have declared there is too much evidence of the existence of these animals to warrant them in pronouncing the mermaid to be solely a creature of fancy” (Penguin, 241). Their verbiage in particular, referring to them as animals, really begins a new definition in and of itself. While they’re somewhat referred to as a cross between fish and human in the rest of the reading, it’s clear where the author of this particular section draws the line. Their animal existence seems to completely separate them from the human existence, as if totality is the only true definition of being excluded from animal definition.
It’s especially intriguing because of how it leans into the idea that in the wake of their reality, they are animals, but humans are not. Only in fiction can they be considered entirely something of marvel, but when they may actually be something of fact, their existence must become detached from ours. Despite the same evolutionary process that created us being something that would be a part of their existence, and the fact that their cognitive ability matches our own, they must be completely disconnected and unassociated with the “perfection” that humanity supposedly holds. Even the contemplation of their existence needing to have complete evidence, despite there already having been, proves this need to deny them so we do not have to work around any creature that we would consider remotely comparative to us.
It truly in one sentence reflects our disrespect of them, our need to stare and make them “creatures of fancy” when we don’t believe they can defend themselves or find any kind of retaliation, but in the event of their actuality, we’re unsure of how to respond besides disconnection as animalistic beings. Without this shield of their non-existence, we’d have to recognize the inevitability of coexistence with something as cognitive as us, and humanity’s selfishness cannot do this. Instead, we refuse to accept them as a part of us, or a part of the world whatsoever.
