#because that plasticity prioritizes by relationship hierarchy

[rxttenfish]

honestly miranda's a lot more insecure than she will ever let anyone else know about or even mentally recognize and realize in herself - its just also in such specific and bizarre ways that no one ever picks up on it

[nubeeeohno]

I'm not sorry that I get so ticked off whenever the topic of gen z and loneliness comes up because my millennial colleages have done nothing of substance to it and have in fact just worsened it via the endorsement of boomer and gen xer type brutality emotionally wise.

It comes from us and our generation and the massive joking off of pain followed by a half assed approach of disque emotional awareness, really just leaving the do to the epidemic of mental illness delirium and pharmacologicalization of things that don't exist. I'm not sorry I don't feel like sugarcoating or coaxing today. It should be obvious.

Yes, absolutely every single thing is going to get better by you not talking heart to heart to your peers because "boundaries". Every single thing is going to get better by burying, burying, burying, BURYING BURYING BURYING like a maniac instead of yanking things up to the surface, because why affront my pain, there is social media, there is cellphones, there is this super addicting game, there is pharma, there is fanfiction and there is every single thing ever, to simulate a plastic and temporal equivalent of the feeling of reward I would have felt by forging a long term relationship with my mother and my father - except they did not do that to me, and now I'm doomed, I'm doomed because I can't build with other people what they did not build with me and thus, in the absence of family, there is absence of friends.

Except I can, I could, speak genuinely and pour every thing out to a person and be vulnerable, but there is the catch - it is shamed. Shamed. Because they're not my "therapist" (despite "therapy" being a subconstruct of the professionalism construct, that aims to sanitize what is basically prostitution) and they should not "carry" my burden despite me expressing myself and seeking a bond with someone in no way equating me tasking them with solving my life or pain, and thus apparently if I don't PAY someone whom has studied - via reference and not experience, and reserves their ability to mask their own biases into their practice - to listen to me I am being entitled. And there is also the catch that I am afraid of bonding with them and depending on them the way I could not depend on my parents because they never wanted to, probably the absence of my parents is going to have that consequence, or just naturally from revealing things that are so personal and hurt so much… which is valid. And the reason so many resort to AI. But AI is merely a practice and a test of the waters for human relationships, not an end nor a replacement.

What IS the consequence of reducing psychotherapists to mere gateways to psychiatry? (The pseudoscience that claims endogenic origin of emotional repercussions by grabbing brain scans and labelling them normal vs depressive, gaslighting into a causation fallacy, because mind you, making direct and undoubted assumptions of connection between words and pictures is how we learned LANGUAGE, so that method is always going to work automatically) The consequence of obsessing over surfaces? The consequence of putting more, more, more, more and more obstacles and labels over people's emotional expression ("trauma dumping", don't fucking get me started on that)? People can be clumsy, and you CAN choose to be understanding instead of a shaming piece of shit. The consequence of giving emotions no importance if not over the academical hierarchy and construct that is psychology? The consequence of prioritizing the material over the intangible, the computer over the sentient ("rational" vs "emotional" as if dumping the very thing that makes your soul over the ability to be a computer could be your biggest achievement as a person)? To the point that there has to be external validation by academia for every single thing that we live every single second because of course our emotions hold no validity by themselves, no value by themselves - FEELINGS are LIES, just because you FEEL something it doesn't mean it IS - except yes it is, yes if you feel something is harming you it is because it is actually harmful. This is ridiculous - to feel like there has to be validation for your feelings by some authority by every single time and every single ocassion. That there has to be some doctor or psychologist telling your parents and peers and old fucking people that yes, yelling at you does nothing but harm you - because you don't hold value by yourself, your words, your feelings, your instincts mean nothing because someone else decided they don't - the parent that was told the same thing as a child because their parent saw emotions as a vile gateway for children to be forever dependent and bratty and leeching off every possible resource out of the parent because children are evil. Or humans are weak naturally and you have to TOUGHEN THEM UP as children by making a CHILD immediately prepared to live without YOU the PARENT… shaking my fucking head. No, a medic does not have to validate via academia what is fucking obvious to us as humans, just because some deny it out of the self-punishing practice sown by their parents to desperately seek a meaning or "reward" out of endurance and suffering (myth of merit)… that is fucking ridiculous.

The consequence of making the work force and have work be every thing in the life of a person, putting them under the permanent pressure of having to constantly pay just for living…

The consequence is we simulate relationships. Via social interactions that are not direct relationing of one human to another. Via games, fictional stories, roleplay, via parties and lunches and god knows what, via every single thing that temporarily provides just a second of the reward that is always there from true love. We are afraid of investing long term and real emotion because that interferes with work. It interferes my energy and time for the material. My resources to invest in buying the resources to keep a body alive and not a soul (and the resources to keep a body alive and happy are your very basic right, yet you are forced into having to "earn" them by the rich and the brainwashed myth-of-merit-sucking workers). My ability to also keep my pain and vulnerability buried. A bond takes nakedness - and having someone see you naked emotionally means seeing yourself naked emotionally which so many of you just can't do and resort to believing yourselves ill and taking medications to keep burying yourselves in heavier layers of things and concrete because you think being vulnerable is the end of the world. You think that letting yourselves feel your pain is the end of the world. That hurting and pain are the end of the world. You dread becoming aware of that pain because it is so big. You think that letting yourself hurt every injustice, cry for your mother and wish for her arms is the end of the world. Because you think in an absolutist way that says, if you can't possibly mend it, then don't let yourself feel it - but it is not pointless at all. You were made to look at a "point" and "functionality" for yourself when you are not a machine. To have "goals" and "dreams" to feed a productist system and pay a university to put you closer to fulfilling them and "go" somewhere when your biggest happiness is and should always be and always have been home where true love is - or had to be from the start.

You think that bringing up to the surface something so big will break you, but it won't.

[web1995]

Aesthetic Significance and Human Meaning in the Iconography of Monuments to Mickey: What does Mickey Mouse look like?

Mickey Mouse, a figure with unclear, possibly composite origins amidst the shadows of early human mythology, dominates much of our modern landscape. Visit any city upon any landmass, and you will find the familiar monuments to him, ranging from humble shrines to elaborate multi-storied castles fit to house the Mouse, Himself. Most creation myths regarding Mickey claim he originated in what was known as California, of the so-called United States, though there are variations on the geographical setting, and most speak of pre-plastic human creators, meticulously crafting his first incarnation from bones, potatoes, or, usually, from paper.

It is indisputable that Mickey is a pre-plastic relic. Mickey and his Friends have appeared on clothing, architecture, medical equipment, jewelry, cutlery, aeroplanes, submarines, and nearly every other imaginable pre-plastic object that post-plastic excavation has recorded. In the late stages of pre-plasticism, his image began to take on greater significance to the artists portraying him, and the consumers of Mickey Art grew ever more fervent, leading to the new artforms upon which the Mouse’s plastic throne has been firmly established.

In this essay, the authors’ unified goal is to introduce the reader (doubtlessly already familiar with Mickey and the many monuments dedicated to him) to some finer points of how specific iconography in the omnipresent Mickey Monuments functions to convey meaning. While much of this meaning may be clear on a first viewing and first trip through a monument’s coiled tract, other aspects of it have been lost to pre-plastic history, or lies in details that are better appreciated (in the authors’ opinions) with re-examination. 

Mickey’s following (and the reverence of his followers) are nowhere near devoid of spirituality. However, it bears mentioning that he has never been closer to a religious figure (or “god,” despite his obviously godly status) than to a mascot, an effigy, an anthropomorphic symbolization of the plastic world’s greatest values. Mickey became a symbol of prosperity and fortune early on in the plastic world. These are the main qualities attributed to him historically in his semi-deification, though he has been considered to represent various other patronages (such as joy, cleanliness, rationality, modern medicine, dominion over other beasts, and music, to name a few), and may be considered a “personal” patron by those who seek his favor. 

As prosperity and fortune are ever-changing, Mickey himself has no single traditional depiction. The same artists may depict Mickey differently every time they portray him. There are regional, cultural, and religious trends but has never been a consensus on how “Mickey should look”— and most Mickey enthusiasts will instead reach a consensus on agreeing that there never should be. Let us begin our visual exploration of Mickey Monuments with four strikingly disparate depictions of the Mouse:

The differences, not only in Mickey’s appearance but in the architectural motifs utilized, intended function of the monuments, overall composition chosen, and other decoration present are astounding. Mickey’s image is ephemeral, in the hands of the creator, but so too in the eye of the beholder— for each of these monuments, once erected, drew admirer’s cries— behold! the Mouse himself!

Fig. 1

Fig 2. 

One common motif in Mickey Monuments is the portrayal of Mickey’s head (and sometimes, his many noble heads) alongside the heads of other animals, lacking his pseudo-god qualities. In Fig. 1 and Fig. 2, Mickey’s dominion over ordinary beasts— what appears to be a common mouse, perhaps the extinct pre-plastic rodent Pikachu (if not the closely related, probably also extinct Raichu species), and elephants, demonstrates that Mickey is neither an ordinary rodent nor unable to wield authority over even much larger beasts. 

Fig. 3

Similarly, in Fig. 3, Mickey’s dominion over other mascots becomes clear. Mickey and his Friends are afforded honors above other pre-plastic cartoons that may have once had a following of their own, because Mickey’s power surpasses theirs. Doraemon, another pseudo-god figure who may once have been equal in popularity to Mickey, is seen here as a mere painting alongside other cartoons, while Mickey is sculpted and elevated into the imperial 3rd dimension to show his status. Snow White takes a similar role in Fig. 1.

Fig. 4

Two-dimensionality does not always denote a lesser status, however. In Fig. 4, simple iconography is used to evoke Mickey’s presence (as is a “cross” in christianity) in sculpture, accompanied by mosaic and/or fresco depicting Mickey enthroned, in a pastoral scene with his Friends. 

[ A word on Mickey’s Friends— sometimes, Mickey’s Friends appear as his companions, and sometimes as lesser aspects of Mickey’s own soul. In Fig 4, Mickey’s Friends appear to be his acquaintances or subjects, celebrating alongside him, but this is not always the case. All of Mickey’s Friends, Minnie Mouse especially, may be depicted as pseudo-gods equal to Mickey, and quite a few scholarly endeavors have been made in exploring the history of Donald Duck Monuments. Take note that in Fig. 4′s composition Minnie is equal in status to Donald Duck, rather than placed alongside Mickey, while in other monuments, Minnie appears as Mickey’s mirror image (or even as the superior deity, with Mickey as a lackey). ]

Fig. 5

For a charming interplay of 2D and 3D space, one may turn to Fig. 5, in which is seen a mosaic/fresco of Mickey humorously pointing toward a sculpture of his head (authority), showing different aspects of his soul. Intriguingly, while Donald Duck appears beside Mickey in the arch, only Mickey is given the right to manifest in three dimensions— perhaps playfully reasserting the dimensional hierarchy seen in Fig. 1 and Fig. 3. 

Fig. 6

In Fig. 6, two-dimensionality has a positive function (with mild third-dimensionism, in the shape of the columns). Mickey and Donald Duck decorate the pillars of this monument, suggesting that they are “pillars of the earth.”

Fig. 7

Fig. 7 creates little distinction between relief, freestanding sculpture, architectural contour, and painted icon, in a chaotic plastic landscape, with one notable exception to this blurring of category— Mickey’s gaping mouth allows visitors to crawl in or out from it, bringing Mickey (and thus, fortune) into their life as both creator and judge. 

Fig. 8

Fig. 9

Fig. 8 and Fig. 9 demonstrate monuments in which Mickey’s eyes are obscured, showing his impartiality. Mickey’s ongoing popularity as a figure and his enduring semi-deification probably have been assisted by the human desire to appeal to fortune for help, and the human understanding that fortune is simply another word for “fate.” Mickey’s face acts as a softening mask over fate’s seemingly arbitrary, often cruel judgement.

Fig. 10

Fig. 11

Subdued by comparison, deliberatively minimalist Mickey Monuments like Fig. 11 followed controversy surrounding laboriously painted monuments such as Fig. 10. Elaborate paintings of Mickey and Friends drew criticism for their “gaudiness” at the same time that they drew praise for honoring Mickey with the luxury he deserves. Fig. 10 aims to be a gilded celebration of Mickey’s pantheon. Simpler designs like Fig. 11 typically signal an intent to prioritize the visitor’s relationship with Mickey himself.

Fig. 12

Some monuments do verge on genuine deification of Mickey, such as Fig. 12′s emphasis on his Head of rationality and Hand of justice (with frescoes).

Fig. 13

Other monuments use allegory to pay tribute to history. Fig. 13 shows a castle that has been decorated with frescoes of Mickey and Friends as the four humors, showing the influence Mickey has had on modern medicine.

Fig. 14

It is only reasonable to take some time to focus especially on Minnie’s role in Mickey Monuments. Here, in Fig. 14, Mickey and Minnie Mouse are depicted as equals, sharing in the honor of a triumphal arch.

Fig. 15

In Fig. 15, Minnie and Mickey take on the role of two sphinxes (the “ups and downs” of fortune, if you will). Minnie beckons the visitor to ascend the monument’s stygian stairs, while Mickey laughs at their all-too-abrupt plunge from grace. Both are mischievous (yet non-malevolent) figures.

Fig. 16

Another triumphal arch, Fig. 16 actually centers Minnie herself. Minnie’s distinction from Mickey is not always clear— is she half of a single pseudo-god? While it is tempting to argue that Minnie’s status is entwined in Mickey’s, as much a part of him as he is of her, viewing her merely as half of Mickey reduces her significance in Mickey Monuments that have made the conscious decision to honor Minnie in the better-known Mouse’s stead. 

Fig. 17

However, Mickey and Minnie sometimes are portrayed as two halves of a single soul, as seen in Fig. 17, in which case there seems no other choice but to admit these figures do, at least partially, share an overlapping self. Fig. 17′s melding of their flesh establishes them as true equals, though it is Mickey’s outstretched Hand of justice that seems to wield their shared power. 

Fig. 18

When portrayed together, Minnie and Mickey seem to be conveying a shared power more stable than Mickey’s capricious rule might appear alone, evoking imagery of pre-plastic royalty. In Fig. 18, Mickey stands above the world, confidently surveying his surroundings, while Minnie luxuriates in her power, appearing to rule with serenity in this Mickey Monument clearly meant to show their dominion over Spiderman. 

Fig. 19

In Fig. 19, the entirety of the monument is an altar, dedicated to Minnie. A small yet ornate monument, this altar’s subject matter is again the motif of dominion over beasts. Here is a hierarchy: an ordinary rodent, with little significance; Pluto, who is to Goofy what a human must be to Apollo; and Minnie, a true pseudo-god, blessed with wisdom beyond that of each lower category of beast. She appears to use her wisdom benevolently, gazing out at the visitor with self awareness and a welcoming expression, while Pluto lacks the ability to look into a higher dimension and interact with the beings there (and the ordinary rodent is merely a rodent). Minnie’s bold stare shows the visitor that she is aware of dimensions beyond the two that she has been painted in, that she feels no fear of the third dimension (indeed, she appears unsurprised and if at all surprised, merely charmed by the sight of the 3D world) and may in fact be aware of dimensions beyond even the one through which her visitors approach. This not-so-simple altar has an entire pseudo-theology painted on its sides.

Fig. 20

Mickey Monuments often draw upon existing religious iconography to illustrate Mickey’s form, instead of attempting to create a separate pseudo-theology as seen in Fig. 19. Fig. 20 is a Monumental variation on an “Annunciation” scene, from christian myth, depicting Mickey announcing Mickey’s birth to Mickey.

Fig. 21

Fig. 22

Another reference to christian iconography, Fig. 21 depicts a Monument in which Mickey is the Gate through which lies “salvation.” ("Extra Ecclesiam nulla salus" or, in this case perhaps, there is no salvation outside the House of Mouse). In contrast, Fig. 22 depicts Mickey and Friends as bringers of joy and supporters of same sex marriage. 

Fig. 23

Above the central portal by which the monument in Fig. 23 may be entered, the visitor is confronted with an unusual wall mosaic depicting Mickey and Friends as patrons of "fun" and "cleanliness." The subject matter may be a unique twist on Mickey’s patronage, but this style of Mickey Monument certainly isnt— wall ornamentation is a common motif, seen in many previous figures.

To conclude this essay, the authors have chosen to draw back from their closer analysis of these Mickey Monuments, to return to the most intuitive way of appreciating them: as a visiting admirer. Following will be examples of some unique and particularly visually striking Mickey Monuments, which the reader is free to admire and/or to apply any analysis of their own to, without the authors dominating the Mickey Monument conversation. Mickey may have dominion over all cartoons, mascots, and other beasts, but each follower of Mickey must decide for themself, in the end— what does Mickey look like?

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 23: Bleeding Out

(Run from the masquerade.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 23: Bleeding Out

Word Count: 1661

Relationships: DLAMP (romantic)

Warnings: Stab wound, blood, knife, dissociation (? kinda), assassin, identity theft/false identities, morally grey Patton (Patton was conditioned and trained from childhood to be a killer, though not by choice)

A/N: sorry that this is late. i've lost my second source of wifi and am now on an unreliable schedule. please forgive me. anyway, i know someone wanted something patton-centric, so hopefully this is okay! i know it's not super whumpy, but i've been playing around with this idea for a while and thought it was interesting.

Who am I?

Words filter through Patton’s brain, drench themselves in an apathy far removed from expression of ideals. Breaks and cracks and trials and tribulations rip throughout his head, shake him to the core, and it’s like his train of thought has switched to a west-bound track at the very last second. Nothing seems to be tangible here, impalpable in the bleak, bleached whiteness of the room itself. Existing in an echo of itself, pictures hung in thin air as residual temperament of times past.

Where am I?

The blank space pushing a pressure on his mind shifts and morphs into something new, amalgams of amorphous nothings twisting and braiding strands of senses, whispering gold in artificial light. Walls rise up, looming and hollow, and Patton wants to hide inside a diamond box until the last bit of oxygen is expelled from his lungs. A roof closes over top, securely snapping into place as if it’s been there all along.

Am I alive?

Dreary greys arise from bleeding spots of discolouration in the new room, pooling out to coat a shade darker like a storm cloud just before it fades away. The attempt at colour is pathetic, and wholly a failure, and none of the words seem to stay in Patton’s brain anymore. There are magicians to tell him no, dancers leaping and twirling as they snatch up every bit of coherency Patton didn’t know he still had. They spin away, leaving him with nothing.

What happened?

A true question, valid and fair, but it doesn’t stop his mind from unconsciously raising a red alert that trails for miles long. The query is stolen away, bartered by thieves of the night for the tiniest splash of the colour magenta, and touching that dot of flat paint sends a shock through his system. The new colour shoots out from every fingertip, shades of red falling heavily over the room to muster shadows and highlights and shapes that are now clear enough to be recognized. A bookshelf, a couch, a table. Blurs of wine, marred by time, falling behind, undefined, stuck in line…

Am I awake?

Taken into consideration, broken and under construction in wavering hands that fall to his sides.

Am I asleep?

Movement blossoms underneath his skin, sparks and compels to bring his tired fingers to wrap around his stomach.

What is that?

A real shape, a real feeling, cylindrical rubber and plastic. It’s a handle, ridged and beaten-up and misshapen, malformed, and Patton grips it hard. Pulling at it is like agony, feeling despite the whims of the shallowly merciful, diluted promises to echo brightly in his head. Each word digs into him, digs deep enough to release his cyan blood, and along with the red comes blue and purple. Azure skies spill from his stomach, coat his hands and stick to his clothes, and the clouds are missing.

How did I get hurt?

The knife rests easily in Patton’s hands, forming to the curvature of his digits like a malleable putty slipping between with the viscosity of caramel. Happy accidents reset the logistics of nightmares, pertinent to the matter of when and where and how and why. The who is him, a stolen identity and a fake face, masked with indifference to the things he had to leave behind. Yellow shines through his chest, rays of light splitting him in half, and the full painting bursts into being.

Patton gasps in a choked breath of much-needed air, pupils blown wide in the dim light of the room he’s in. He shoots up from the concrete, the smell of garbage and petrichor wafting up from the alleyway he resides in. Rain splashes down all around him, filling the city’s atmosphere with a staticky, white noise to offset the far-off ambience of horns honking, vague lyrics, and the occasional police siren. The water soaks through his clothes easily, chills him to the bone in the cool night air, but that doesn’t matter because there’s a huge gash in his abdomen, and a bloodied knife discarded on the ground beside him. Hypothermia is the least of his problems right now.

The pain is acute, ripples deep through his flesh as nerves spark like fireworks under his skin. The wound leaves a bitterness in Patton’s heart, calls forth a litany of self-destructive, self-righteous, asinine introspection, things that usually would remain locked deep in the chasm at the back of Patton’s mind. It’s not as if he necessarily wants to die, but maybe it’d be easier to fall asleep here, lay in the flood and accept each pool of regret as they really are.

Maybe not.

After all, his boyfriends are waiting for him at home. The four of them know about Patton’s job and yet stay with him anyway, despite the danger it’s brought upon them all, something Patton regards with a bittersweet outlook. Yes, the show of sentiment is warming, unconditional love acting as a buffer between himself and his karma that he knows he doesn’t deserve, but it also makes them reckless, loyal to a fault. They will all die if they continue to be with him, something Patton has stressed to them multiple times, but the warning never seems to get through their heads.

Roman and Virgil are similar, in a lot of ways, despite how drastically opposing their personalities are. Virgil is unerringly cautious, finds it easy to betray the powerful under the motivation of bettering the masses, and is rebellious despite his paranoia-- it’s what drew Patton to him in the first place. Roman, on the other hand, prioritizes by not prioritizing at all-- every single person is born equally with the ability to do good or evil, and their path is a result of external factors rather than wholly internal. Setting aside his own wants isn’t losing, not really, because no matter what he chooses he will always find gratification, a trait that Patton does not share but respects anyway. Together, they tend to fight and clash, opposing ideals dancing around each other under a common drive and purpose. This overhang is what brings them together, in the end, as two who refuse to stand on the sidelines and let those who cannot fight for themselves be taken advantage of.

Logan is complicated, mainly because of the very nature that forces him down into commonality. He is inconspicuous in every sense of the word, prefers to work in the shadows rather than the limelight, and it’s this trait that allows him to sneak around those he’s manipulating like a puppet master. His intelligence is boundless, never held down by narrow perspective or innate complacency from where he stands as an individual in a society that constantly seeks to strip him of that title. He’s calculating, assesses every possible outcome before he makes a decision, which makes him extremely dangerous. Exactly the kind of person who would be very high up in the hierarchy in Patton’s line of work.

Ethan is the one out of the four of them that acts as an outlier, the one on the other side of the glass. He’s drastically different to the others, sharing very few commonalities, which made getting to know him much more interesting. Ethan is a coward, bravery having melted away long ago, as if it were never there to begin with, and maybe it wasn’t. He’s opinionated, and fierce, and protective, but when push comes to shove, he will hide in the shadows under an umbrella of regret to part the downpour. He means well, but his fear holds him back, leaves him susceptible to panic. However, this doesn’t mean he’s weak; he’s far from it. While Ethan may crack under direct pressure, when he’s allowed to operate in the flanks, fight by proxy, he’s unstoppable. A worldview untainted by inherent decharacterization pushes him far beyond the rest, an allowance of growth never wavering throughout any success he garners.

They’re all unique, special in how they deal with what the world throws at them, and it’s why Patton hasn’t just killed them all yet. The way he grew up, he was always taught to take advantage of anyone who can provide what he needs and then kill them off when he’s finished with them. Being an assassin means no baggage, not a single suitcase taken along, and shedding identities like the skin of a snake is just another part of Patton’s daily life. He can’t allow them to stay. It’s a terrible idea, leaves him with weaknesses if anyone ever found out. And yet he still refuses to give them up, like an idiot. A lovesick fool, just waiting for an enemy to take revenge and the lives of the ones he cares about.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He does care, dreadfully, impossibly so, and it strips him of his advantages. That cold, detached front he’s worked for years to achieve is easily smashed to pieces any time Logan gives him a stress massage, or when Virgil gently holds his hand, or when Ethan curls up with him under a warm blanket, or when Roman gives him soft kisses early in the morning. There’s no way to be the sharp, clinical assassin known as The Heartbreaker while not confronting the fact that he’s also Patton Etienne (for now, at least), a weak, fun-loving secretary from a small town in Florida.

And when his boyfriends finally get sick of him, he will become Jace, an accountant from Manhattan, or the poor artist Kaden, or Mark, the neighbour from down the street. He will blend in like a chameleon for the express purpose of staying on the down-low, put on a new mask every day to get closer to his target, and then he will move onto the next victim and the higher payout. 

But right now, under cover of the night and the rain, Patton clutches his stab wound, struggles to his feet, and limps home.

[allaboutfoodgwu]

The Essential

Many foods’ journey is disconnected from the human experience; where they are grown, how they are processed, where they are sold, who buys them, and leading up to their shelve-life in a grocery store where humanity comes in contact with them. Some people are passionate about their food, thus food enters a more social relationship with humanity rather than a nourishment role. Robin Fox describes “food fashion” as a way to explain the passion people feel about their food at a certain point of time that results in food fads. Fox describes how food snobbism essentially elevates food fads to a point where if you aren’t informed in them, you are considered a social failure. Also, much like the fashion industry, food fashion is dependent on change and people are often captivated by these foods in a fleeting manner (2014).

           The focal point of this research aims to take reverse food snobbery, “a cultivation of proletarian tastes as long as they are romantic,” to the next point of opposition of food fads (Fox). A complete rejection of food fashion “in’s” and “out’s” and a focus on a commodity above it all; one in which embraces simplicity and necessity, cooking oil. This commodity in a grocery store is essential to practically all the food one eats. Cooking oil is not apart of the war of food fads versus common foods; rather it reflects all social hierarchy, or so I may have believed. I aim to uncover if an item, crucial to almost every modern diet, truly has the ability to manifest in a non-romantic collectivism interaction with humanity and their food. Could cooking oil, quite possibly be the thing that humanity has in common all along?

           For the purpose of this research cooking oil is defined as plant, animal or synthetic fat used in cooking that may be used in food preparation and flavoring, but is not solely used for this purpose. The cooking oil in this optical research focus differs from edible oil which is exclusively used for flavoring. Therefore oils such as truffle oil, or any other flavored oil that appears in the research are classified as edible oils and will not be analyzed extensively. Major cooking oil varieties include; olive oil, extra virgin olive oil, coconut oil, sesame oil, peanut oil, vegetable oil, corn oil, canola oil, grapeseed oil, avocado oil, sunflower oil,  and safflower oil. The reason is mainly because, cooking oil reaches the essence of customary that the flavoring oils do not share. The price of truffle oil alone reveals that the intended consumer is of a higher class or one willing to allocate a large portion of their budget towards an oil.  

           For my field visits I went to five different grocery stores in Washington, D.C. and they included; the Whole Foods Market located in Foggy Bottom, Trader Joe’s in the West End neighborhood, The Mediterranean Way Gourmet Market in Dupont, the Giant Food in Columbia Heights, and the Walmart Supercenter in Brightwood. The pattern I wished to follow in these five locations was a general direction north (map) and to the benefit of my research, each location had a supply of cooking oils. Though, not every location offered the same kind of cooking oils.  

In five store optical research it is difficult to find similarities in such different stores from different neighborhoods about a product that runs consistent. The packaging, is however, a rather consistent particular similarity. Each store had some kind of glass or can packaging. The glass bottle packaging was always reserved for at least the olive oil in each of the grocery stores. Some grocery stores used the glass bottles for safflower oil or grapeseed oil. Often times glass bottles indicated a higher price, the only time where this could not be proven was the gourmet market because they had no comparison.

However, the gourmet market in Dupont had higher prices overall which could equate to the fact that since all their oils were in glass or cans, then they maintain the type of packaging elitism found. Glass packaging requires less energy to produce than the plastic packaging. Although glass is more expensive to produce, plastic is more expensive to recycle. Plastic also, has the possibility of leaching toxins which is a risk that can be avoided if one someone has the dispensable income to spend on not just the oil, but the packaging.

Another major similarity across all the stores was the presence of olive oil at each one. The packaging varied at each location, but olive oil was very consistent and also consistently was the product with a few taken from the supply of it. Some products had not a dent in the supply, but olive oil always appeared like someone just came by and picked some up. However, every time I was observing the oils, there was never more than 3 people around. Although, no one seem to stick around the oil section long, it only proved my point further. The oil is already a well known and trusted staple that the glamorization of the product does not need to be done. It is a given.

Differences were far and wide when it came to oil types; variety, packaging, pricing, location, people. However, something to note is how each store caters to its particular demographic. Whole Foods offered the largest selection of ghee I saw out of every store, and that probably has to do with the wealthy food fashion chasing people they hope to attract. While Trader Joe’s instead offered suggestions paired with each oil on the label, that gives you the friendly good-ole-Joe feel that the store wants you to have. The gourmet market really only had an extensive collection of extra virgin olive oil, because they were focusing on products from a particular region. The Giant had the largest selection of peanut oil, which is often used to fry food, which  appeared the cooking style of the demographic they wished to serve. Lastly, the Walmart had the best price and largest quantity of canola oil, most likely because their demographic mainly used this.

  Across the cooking oils; olive oil had the largest range on price and packaging, but people chose to buy it. Every time, people always bought olive oil. There was an olive oil for whatever type of person you were. However, my last two grocery store visits showed canola/corn/vegetable oil can serve this purpose too, but for those with a desired lower price point overall. However, it seems to be less about the price when it comes to essential items and at a times more about the type of Whole Foods/Trader Joe’s mindset, which prioritizes healthy and organic living over price. At times this means those who are wealthy can partake, but also those with maybe a lower income may want to partake as well because they share that mindset.

Reference

Fox, Robin. “Food and Eating: An Anthropological Perspective.” Social Issues Research Institute. 2014. http://www.sirc.org/publik/food_and_eating_0.html