Katie and I were standing in the kitchen on Sunday evening discussing this question while we were trying to make popcorn balls. During our discussion, we were both alternating between stirring the hot sugar syrup and trying not to burn the popcorn in the pot. The dark red syrup was bubbling and our talk was punctuated by the sound of popcorn kernels exploding inside the pot (a lame attempt at pictorialism). I think we both agreed that we appreciated Goggins' emphasis on the material and I think we’re both interested in the relationship between circulation and the meaning of images. I mentioned that in one of my SRRs I wrote:
“. . .the fact that images are so pervasive makes me wonder if an essential component of the field of visual rhetoric should also include an investigation of delivery systems. . . These delivery systems may be an important part of my definition of “image” since they seem to define the terms in which we think about and encounter images. . .”
First, I see these “delivery systems” as the location of meaning in images. Helmers states that “[m]eaning is not located in the object itself” (65). Similarly, I would argue that the images themselves don’t contain any meaning but rather the meaning is determined via its delivery system(s). In other words, the delivery system determines the context in which the image is delivered; this context then determines how the image is interpreted. The delivery system operates much like a caption, although less explicitly—it encourages how an image should be read. The reach of the particular delivery systems determines how much meaning can be derived from the image—the greater the reach, the more multiple its meanings (I’m thinking especially of Ground Zero Spirit as a good example). The extent of this reach (and thus the extension of meaning) is based upon material factors that both produce and reproduce the image. Ground Zero Spirit was reproduced extensively (as were many September 11th images) and innumerable meanings were, as a result, generated. In particular, I see the material through which an image is delivered as fundamental to a reading of an image. Goggins argues that “[a]ll discursive practices may be best understood as material practices” and I agree since delivery systems are material constructs (89).
In any case, there seem to be two factors that potentially determine whether an artifact is deemed vernacular or not. First, like Ground Zero Spirit, an artifact has such a broad, wide reach that its audience is extensive; second, the artifact appears in a context deemed to be “vernacular.” In the first case, because an image is so ubiquitous, there are opportunities for others to re-interpret and, more commonly, remix the image. What could be more ubiquitous than the Starbuck’s logo?
In the second case, whether an artifact is deemed “vernacular” depends on the context in which it is placed. Goggins writes that “the materiality of semiotic practices and artifacts is socially, culturally and politically constructed” (89). These constructions have determined at us what contexts/spaces are vernacular or formal/official. These constructions influence our “reading” of the image (and this is why I think an understanding of architecture is so important—it’s appropriate that Hefland starts out with a quote from Tschumi). So, for example, we have street art in which the context is vernacular:
In addition, I tend to think that a context is deemed “vernacular” based upon access; the more broad-based the access, the more likely it will be labelled “vernacular.” The tighter the access (and that includes access to the allocative/authoritative resources), the greater the likelihood that the context would be deemed official or formal (and this is why a discussion of delivery systems should always involve class issues). On the other hand, we have the street artist Banksy who, due to his wide appeal, is crossing over from vernacular spaces to official gallery spaces. I find this cross-over particularly interesting—it would seem like an instance in which official space is attempting to appropriate something from vernacular space. How Banksy’s work is “read” on the street, I think most would agree, is read quite differently from the way it is “read” in the gallery. This brings me to the “aesthetic.”The term “aesthetic” is the trickier of the two. Whereas I am connecting “vernacular” to a material context in opposition to a “high” context, the “aesthetic” stretches across all contexts. In the case of the Starbuck’s logo or the street art there is an aim towards some type of aesthetic response (either positive or negative) in vernacular contexts. In a formal space, such as a traditional art gallery, the context encourages a specific aesthetic response whereas a vernacular space seems to be self-consciously responding to the “official” aesthetic expectations. Sontag writes that, when photographs are viewed in museum or gallery space, “photographs cease to be ‘about’ their subjects in the same direct or primary way; they become studies in the possibilities of photography” (133). A museum space creates a structure in which we have come to understand that the contents within must be understood as “aesthetic” artifacts in a specific way. I agree with Helmers that “exhibitors are powerful mediators in the reception of texts” (78). Again, it comes down to delivery systems—how an artifact is delivered determines a specific reading, and that is based upon the material that constructs those systems.
What I’ve just suggested seems emphasize the third aspect of visual rhetoric that distinguishes it from the “Sister Arts” tradition—a consideration of “the temporal and spatial implications of context: the ways in which the meaning of a single image can alter dramatically due to placement, context, cropping, and captioning” (64). On top of temporal and spatial I would add material; I think the interrelation of these three factors in context determine the meaning of the image based upon the context and this context influences a particular aesthetic response. What do you all think?
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