Monthly Archives: December 2023
18/12/23 New Shenandoah Comics: Angie Kang & Robert James Russell
Shenandoah Issue 73.1 (Fall 2023) is now live. It’s the tenth issue to feature comics, and the eighth I’ve helped edit (I happily step aside for occasional guest comics editors, including José Alaniz who curated an amazing selection by contemporary Russian women last spring, and Rachelle Cruz who curated an equally excellent selection in Spring 2021).
We don’t define “comics” on our submission page, because we hope to attract as much variety as possible. When my advanced comics course recently perused back issues, they questioned whether some pieces suited any of the scholarly definitions we examined in class. Sijia Ma‘s “A Hundred Stories,” for example, is a sequence of photographs (which they decided was allowed) but none of them are juxtaposed on a shared page. Another student was happy to call Mita Mahato’s “Lullaby” a comic, but not a “poetry comic,” as it’s termed in her author note, because the “poetry” includes no words.
I don’t think any of my students would challenge the two works in our new issue, Angie Kang’s “The Birthmark” and Robert James Russell’s “How to Make a Full English,” because both share a range of conventions common in the comics medium. And yet they both push at those norms in exciting ways.
If I’d seen Kang’s before publishing The Comics Form last year, I would have included this pair of panels in my discussion of “match cut” juxtapositions:
The technique is common in film, but rarer in comics. The juxtaposition of Kang’s main character sitting in her doctor’s office and then driving is striking because her figure is drawn from the same perspective and in the same position relative to the frame. Or, since there is no sharp black line framing the panel, to the image edges.
That’s another subtle quality I enjoy about her image style, those softer edges, which reveal how the color is not added to a prior line drawing but is an organic and defining quality of the artwork. I also enjoy a quiet meta moment, when she paints an exhaled breath of smoke to resemble a speech balloon. In Italy, comics are called “fumetto,” little puffs of smoke.
Kang also uses speech sparingly, letting her images do most of the narrative work — as with this haunting dream sequence that could stand alone as an abstract comic:
She is also artful with her turns of perspective. The first image below is ocularized from the main character’s literal point-of-view, but then the angle shifts to over-the-shoulder, so no longer also literal but still focalized from her internal experience — as felt even more in the third panel’s zoomed-in intensity. Then that last panel captures her emotional experience by leaping to a detached and distant angle.
Russell explores a different set of comics qualities.
First, he establishes his own image-text format: numbered text begins above each image — is interrupted by a single tall panel — and then finishes below. The first features a double-decker bus, which not only confirms the title’s English setting, but also evokes the two-level, or “double-decker,” approach to text.
The images are simplified in a naturalistic style (comics studies really needs a term for that — I refer to it descriptively as “unexaggerated simplification” in The Comics Form), but with some subtle disruptions.
The black surrounding the next image creates a kind of matte effect that extends the frame — though it could also be interpreted literally as the darkness of the building sharpened by the contrast of the lit window. And, whether visually literal or not, it evokes the main character’s isolated emotional state:
A later panel removes visual ambiguity with a fully expressive use of background color:
And though a panel typically includes a single image, Russell plays with that aspect of the form too, drawing panels within panels:
I also really appreciate the hand-written quality of Russell’s lettering — which adds to a general feeling of memoir, while also allowing a sudden shift in emotional intensity:
And note that pleasantly unexplained shift to a painting-by-numbers conceit — perhaps because, as the rendering of the words becomes more evocative, the representational meaning of the image flattens? I’m not sure, but I love the effect.
Russell and Kang are also wonderfully different, even as they each further refine comics possibilities.
Check them out at the new Shenandoah.
Tags: Angie Kang, José Alaniz, Rachelle Cruz, Robert James Russell, Shenandoah
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11/12/23 What Should a Faculty Handbook Say about Academic Freedom?
My school is beginning a process of revising our faculty handbook. The entry on “Academic Freedom” might be a good place to start.
The American Association of University Professors identifies four main elements:
- Teaching: freedom to discuss all relevant matters in the classroom;
- Research: freedom to explore all avenues of scholarship, research, and creative expression and to publish the results of such work;
- Intramural speech: freedom from institutional censorship or discipline when speaking or writing as participants in the governance of an educational institution; and
- Extramural speech: freedom from institutional censorship or discipline when speaking or writing as citizens.
That seems fairly straightforward, and when I looked at my handbook, I expected to find some version of it. I didn’t.
Here’s the current entry:
There’s a lot there, so I’ll break it down sentence-by-sentence.
A faculty member “is entitled to full freedom” in two areas: “research” and “publication of the results.” Those two areas match the AAUP’s second category, “Research.” Except at my school those freedoms are contingent on other factors.
A faculty member must perform their “other academic duties” adequately. None are not named but presumably those duties include teaching. Since faculty are evaluated in three areas (teaching, research, and service), service could be another. There is no indication of how “adequate performance” is determined or by whom (I assume by the administration, but is that my chair or my dean or my provost, or all of them collectively, and so then really just my provost and president? And what if the board of trustees decides someone isn’t fulfilling their undefined “duties”?). Regardless, according to the handbook a faculty member does not have the freedom to research and publish if their teaching (and possibly their service) is not deemed adequate.
Also, you can’t make money (“pecuniary return”) from publishing. I make a pittance from my publications, but since I have no “written understanding” with my administration, I am in overt violation of the handbook policy.
What about academic freedom in teaching? The AAUP lists that first, and it’s the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the phrase “academic freedom.” And yet my school’s policy says not a word on the topic. According to our handbook, we do not have a stated “freedom to discuss all relevant matters in the classroom.”
A form of The AAUP’s “Speech” falls under the second part. It begins:
“Members of the Washington and Lee Faculty are citizens, members of a learned profession, and officers of the institution.”
In what sense am I an “officer of the institution”? And how does being an “officer” differ from my also being a “member” of the faculty? And what do those have to do with my being a “citizen.” I think the sentence might just be preamble, a sort of rhetorical clearing of the throat. Probably no need to parse the semantic phlegm further.
The second sentence begins:
“When speaking or writing as citizens, they should be free from institutional censorship or discipline,”
Behaviors other than “speaking or writing” (such as, say, attending a rally) are not included. Why not? Wouldn’t something like “acting as” cover the bases better? AAUP uses the legally broad term “speech,” which is likely best.
Regardless of the actions, the phrase “as citizens” is (again) unclear. The “when” implies that there are times when faculty members are speaking or writing as citizens, and times when they are not. What is the distinction and how is it made? And why should faculty members “be free from censorship or discipline” only when acting “as citizens”?
The AAUP’s “intramural” and “extramural” is clearer. An article by Don Eron in the AAUP journal describes extramural speech as “the kind of thing we say at the city council meeting or in letters to the editor,” while intramural speech is “the kind of thing we say in the classroom, journal articles, and conference presentations.”
If that’s the distinction intended by the handbook’s phrase “as citizens,” then the policy only covers extramural speech, meaning you only “should be free from institutional censorship or discipline” when talking outside of work. There’s nothing about intramural speech – which means that at my school faculty members can be censored or disciplined for things they say in classrooms and faculty meetings.
And even freedom for extramural speech is vague, because of the verb phrase “should be.” An “is” or “will be” establishes a fact, while “should” suggests the “free from” is in some way weaker.
The rest of the sentence is strange for a policy titled “Academic Freedom”:
“but their special position in the community imposes special obligations.”
Is the “special position” distinct from being a member/citizen/officer of the institution and/or learned profession? Is that the same as the “community”? The “imposes special obligations” is rhetorically stronger than the “should be free from” of the previous sentence. And despite the brevity of the previous descriptions, the obligations receive two more sentences: First:
“As persons of learning and educational officers, they should remember that the public may judge the profession and the institution by their utterances.”
Faculty are again “officers,” now “educational” ones, which seems more general than “officers of the institution.” The “persons of learning” is even broader. And, although the handbook is specific to the school, the obligation is equally to “the profession.” Why? And what does “should” mean in this case?
Finally:
“Hence at all times they should be accurate, should exercise appropriate restraint, should show respect for the opinions of others, and should make every effort to indicate that they do not speak for the institution.”
Accuracy, restraint, and respect are all good things for anyone, including a faculty member of my school, to display. That they are listed under “Academic Freedom” is at best confused. This policy would be more accurately titled “Special Academic Obligations.”
Given my special position and obligations as a citizen, member, officer, and person of learning, I look forward to my school revising this and other faculty handbook policies.
Tags: AAIP, academic freedom, don eron, extramural speech, intramural speech
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