Point of View

Like we said in class yesterday, YHCHI draws attention from its readers/viewers by its unique presentation. Even more than the first YHCHI assignment we had, Bust Down the Doors! really got my attention because it was just the same story over and over again. I watched the clip in the library, and after about 20 minutes of it, people actually interrupted me to ask what I was doing. It seemed crazy that I was watching a circuit of slides repeating over and over again. Oddly enough, I think that this boring repetition is actually what kept me interested in Bust Down the Doors! – I wanted to see if the pattern would ever break and there would be some shocking new text, or even new music. Eventually, once my headache and frustration became unbearable, each time I saw the words “bossa nova” on my screen I promised myself that I wouldn’t watch it again. But I did – I kept watching to see if the storyline would change. At the end of each story, I hoped the next would be something groundbreaking and obvious as to the meaning of this YHCHI presentation. I feel that my hoping for something new was exactly what the artists intended – they were emphasizing the sameness of violence no matter how it happens. And it is true that violence is all the same: I kill you, you kill him, they kill us, and so on. Violence gets boring because it is all the same with exception to the who’s – just like how Bust Down the Doors! was boring other than the changing pronouns.
I much preferred Bust Down the Doors Again! for its calmer music and more aesthetically pleasing presentation. After viewing black words on a white screen for about 30 minutes, the colors were much welcomed. Also, I thought it was interesting that the text was written in both languages. Its bilingualism shows that both cultures are treated equally by violence, because you can’t choose only English or only Chinese (if that’s what it is). Point of view is everything and nothing at the same time: who cares what language it is, because it is the same story. For the first poem, who cares who does it to whom, because it is still the same story?