This year, at the urging of a friend, I presented at the APU Asia Pacific Conference. I was rather impressed with the panel organisation and level of research done there. While my paper did not fit perfectly into the type of research done there, it was enough to fit in with concepts and ideas presented in the same room.
My ideas on the ontological status of concepts and signifiers found application in papers on postcolonial cinema (Yu-Ting Hung’s presentation on director Hou Hsiao-hsien) and television (Aldrie Alman Drajat’s presentation on Japanese dorama and Indonesian cinetron) studies and Jose Rodolfo Aviles Ernult’s presentation on Stephen King’s novel IT.
For Dr Hung’s and Mr Drajat’s presentations it was applicable to the reading in the wider context creativity and homage, the need to define one’s own work against The Other. Similarly, Jose Ernult’s study also consciously defines itself against a Freudian backdrop.
What was important was that they found the idea of gap between signifier/concept and the referential thing applicable to their research, that it can help explain some aspects of their own reading. I, too, found it useful to find for myself how to best explain the discrepancy in general reading and misreading.
Far more detailed explanation will be needed in order to make this reevaluation of the meaning of the triangle of meaning a truly tool rather than being just a self-indulgent intellectual exercise. Now I have my work cut out for me.
In Sperber and Wilson’s Relevance (ISBN9780631198789) they quote the following in discussing the idea of mutual knowledge:
On Wednesday morning Ann and Bob read the early edition of the newspaper, and they discuss the fact that its says that A Day at the Races is showing that night at the Roxy. When the late edition arrives, Bob reads the movie section, notes that the film has been corrected to Monkey Business, and circles it with his red pen. Later, Ann picks up the late edition, notes the correction, and recognises Bob’s circle around it. She also realises that Bob has no way of knowing that she has seen the late edition. Later that day Ann sees Bob and asks, ‘Have you seen the movie showing at the Roxy tonight?’ (Clark and Marshall 1981: 13)
Here are the facts in the order of action:
- they both saw the morning edition of the newspaper
- they have discussed the movie showing that night
- Bob knows the movie has changed and circled it in the late edition newspaper
- Ann saw the circled changed movie name in Bob’s absence
- Ann knows Bob does not know she saw the late edition newspaper in which Bob circled the changed title being screened
- She asks, ‘Have you seen the movie showing at the Roxy tonight?’
To be honest, if Ann had been a good communicator would she not just have added an extra statement, ‘I saw the movie showing now is Monkey Business. Have you seen it?’
Was there any reason not to say she knows the newspaper listing has been corrected? Is there a reason why Ann decided not to acknowledge her own knowledge of the change with a simple statement?
The idea that sparsity of language equates to efficiency of language is wrong. Perhaps in poetry economy is valued. But in normal everyday communication such checks can be done without much disturbance to efficiency. In fact adding the extra statement may help in avoiding any misunderstanding.
And why would not Bob confirm with her that they are talking about the same movie? Why not just reply, ‘You mean Monkey Business? No, I haven’t’. That would save Ann, Bob, the authors – Sperber and Wilson – and us readers a lot of grief and pain.
If peace needed a language to convey its meaning and intention far fewer people from around the world would have turned out for his state memorial service. Peace is beyond language and so language comes second to emotion and thought.
Once in a while piece of new research will remind you that some things that seem a given are just not. Take for example this paper on a species of earless frogs listen with their mouths. As incredible as that may sound these frogs do indeed react to mating calls. In other words you don’t need ears to be able to take advantage of physical properties of sound.
We all know bats use sonar to hunt for prey in the dark and that dogs can hear high pitch sounds we can’t (think dog whistle). Even children can hear sounds that adults no longer can. As a parent I sat through a science show for kids once where they played sounds which my kids nonchalantly reacted to but I couldn’t hear at all. I literally heard nothing. It just goes to show much we rely on the “equipment” for the interpretation of the world around us.
The top award though must go to the mantis shrimp though. This animal can see 100,000 shades of colour, ten times more than humans. There obviously must be a need for it to be able to do so otherwise it would have become redundant and have been whittled out of the species through natural selection.
But opposite must be true too of the limited range of human-made sounds. A while back I wrote about the Japanese’s inability to distinguish between the ‘l’ and ‘r’ sound. In Japanese this distinction doesn’t exist. It isn’t necessary for their language and communication so they therefore need not either to bother hearing it or producing it. The moral of the story is the sounds within Japanese language more than adequately suffice for their need to communicate what they want to say.
There are two lessons here: one is that what counts as sensory perception and faculty is not so clearcut. And second, you don’t necessarily need to hear everthing, that is, our minds filters out things, to separate “the noise from the music” so to speak. And this has consequences for the development and acquisition of language which essentially is a manipulated layer over sound and sight.
We are the embodied.
As humans we can nothing other. If we are then are deficient in some way. And as such we have the ability to see three colours. We have red, blue and green receptors in our eyes to interpret light which is abundant in the space around us (compare our eyes to the Mantis Shrimp).
At the same time our eyes have limits we do not notice. They are enough for what we need. Nonetheless they have deficiencies which do not hinder us much but let us get along fine in daily life.
Josef Albers’ Interaction of Color highlights the way our eyes perceives colours. The flaws are shown (as only we know how to do so well) to point out just how much we rely on them, how little we notice our visual and other perceptual systems.
This reprinted 50th Anniversary Edition is a must-read for all interested in cognition.