Theory Corner (1c)—Bricolage and Change

Read the Introduction to the "Theory Corner" series (here).

Click here for the Theory Corner Resource Center
 See key pronunciations used in the Round and Square blog.
Click below for the other posts on bricolage in the Theory Corner series:

Bricolage 1               Bricolage 2               Bricolage 3

[a] Truck change (see below)

Bricolage, Time, and Change
We have spent some time the last few days in our little Theory Corner examining a(n) historical form (le bricoleur) and a cultural pattern (bricolage).  As Lévi-Strauss noted, the concepts have been shaped by—and even embedded in—history.  Anthropologists have struggled since the beginning of the discipline with ways to show both how cultures "work" and how they change.  This is not a simple matter for historians, either.  Today I wish to show a few examples of how we might think of history, culture, and change. Our new companion Bricky the Bricoleur will be our guide through time and change.

[b] Æthelthryth's Tawdries

Let's take a look at how we might start to "historicize" Lévi-Strauss's account of the bricoleur.  He himself gives a bit of historical context, if you think back to our first bricolage entry, by saying that the word bricoler was related to ball games, hunting, shooting and riding.  It referred to "extraneous movement," such as a ball angling off the side of the table or a rider swerving to avoid something in its path. [1]  Here, culture meets etymology, and we can see that the "modern" word bricoleur has roots in an earlier concept.  So far, so good.  English speakers might think of an example such as "tawdry," which has gone through several meaning changes over time, beginning with a kind of lace.

[c] Bricky c. 1970 (more stuff; still limited)

What Lévi-Strauss does not do in his account of bricolage is give a nuanced "reading" of the artisan we have named "Bricky" over the course of the last hundred years.  If you recall, I gave the approximate years of 1870-1970 for the kind of bricoleur (our "Bricky") of whom Lévi-Strauss writes.  I have my own interpretive reasons for those dates, but that isn't central to the point here. [2]

Let's break down that century in a straightforward manner that nonetheless will give us a sense of change even during the period to which Lévi-Strauss alluded. 

Changing Times

[c] Donkey cart

[d] Bicycle cart

Imagine Bricky, his tools, and his "stuff" in three different eras.  In 1870, he rides a donkey, and his things are loaded onto the back of a donkey cart.  All over France, roads are being built in and around cities and towns; many of the streets are wider and grander than before. In short, great change is afoot, even as Bricky continues to fit rubber plugs into drain holes.

[f] O-rings (the precise kind)

[f] Milk carton meets O-ring (sort of)

Now, let's skip ahead to 1920.  The Great War has ended, and Europe is going through an uneasy rebuilding (and rethinking) process.  For Bricky, though, tubs still need drain plugs, and he still carries his tools and supplies. The only major difference is that now he rides a bicycle—the vehicle that transformed Europe in the early twentieth century. [3]  The cart is behind it, and he goes about his business in much the way that his father did before him and his sons would do after him. He finds a "problem," sorts through his "stuff," and fashions new from old.

Now let's skip ahead fifty more years to about the time that Lévi-Strauss wrote about bricolage.  It is 1970.  Bricky is a rarity, much like a typewriter repairman in 2011.  He and a handful of others are still working, though—making O-rings and drain plugs out of milk cartons and rubber tubes. [4]  He may have a few more tools than "Great Grandpa Bricky" had in 1870, but the biggest difference is that he is driving around in a little diesel-powered truck...with all of his "stuff" still in the back, just like grandpa (bicycle) and great-grandpa (donkey).

[h] The changing face of bricolage

Times change, and that never changes.  Historians are good at the kind of account that I have just given.  They describe with ease various slices of time as they have piled over one another like so many dishes after a Knights of Columbus picnic.  Anthropologist have gotten pretty good at this kind of explanation, too (it wasn't always this way).  It is hard, for example, for an anthropologist to avoid the realization that her own fieldwork is "historical" when she goes back and reads her notes from, say, 1960, 1980, 2000, and yesterday.  The same kind of historical consciousness as I described above with donkeys, bicycles, and trucks is at work when we read our fieldnotes. [5]  What is much more difficult to explain, however, is how things are changing right now, like a swirling bundle of fireflies that don't emit quite enough light to see exactly where we are going.  And bricolage is nothing if not changing—before our eyes, and beyond our comprehension.

[i] Gendered tools and fuel

Think back to what Lévi-Strauss wrote of the bricoleur, and of my examples of bricolage, bathtub drains, and thought (American Pie, in particular).  It is a "fashioning" of new meaning, in new "narrative form, from elements ("stuff") that is lying "out there" in the culture (or the garbage heap).  The bricoleur picks it up and makes something from it.  As we saw, this is the opposite of the engineer, who seeks a precise tool for a precise operation.  One uses a fly-swatter instead of a sledgehammer to complete a common, though cruel, operation.  Think for a moment of a time in which you sought to complete the same operation without a flyswatter available.  You know what I mean; don't pretend you haven't at least thought about it. You were a bricoleur. So, bricolage is as opposed to absolute precision of instruments as cream is to skim (sort of). 

[j] Jacques of all trades

Times Changing
Little did Professor Lévi-Strauss realize that he was an agent of historical and cultural change.  He was as responsible as anyone for popularizing the word bricolage during the 1960s, 1970s, and beyond.  He did not do it alone, of course.  A bunch of us who read him liked the concept and applied it in every possible situation where it might even remotely seem to fit (I spoke of Chinese historiography as bricolage back in my undergraduate thesis—and I still think I'm right). It connected in popular culture, as well. And then, as though through some kind of enveloping economic force, it flowed into thriving, entrepreneurial channels.  Before long, we rubbed our eyes, and bricolage was everywhere.

 [k] A Homespun Depot of Engineering Possibilities

We had the home improvement superstore, Mr. Bricolage.

I was unaware of this until, one sunny early autumn afternoon on a trip through southern France, I spied a sight similar to the one below.  I was struck by the oddity of the concept.  It was a place with "all the right tools" named after its clunky, tool-limited sidekick "Bricky."  I also thought that the honorific "Mr." was a little funny (whatever happened to Monsieur Bricolage?), considering the seriousness with which the French Ministry of Education has always taken these matters.

So engineer and bricoleur are compelled to meet—down at the store.  In yesterday's entry, we thought that never those twain would do this, but history works in powerful ways—making a concept, at least here, into its opposite.

[l] A British game—globalized and (re)translated

And there is more.  We have video games, and two words that anthropologists today adore (and can't seem to avoid for more than a paragraph at a time)—commodification and globalization.  I'll have more to say about those concepts in a later "corner," but it should not be lost on you that bricolage has "gone global" and become very much an idea that can be sold.
 

Bob le Bricoleur 1:00

Bob the Builder 0:47

Bob der Bauermeister 0:46 

Bob l'aggiustatutto 0:46

You will note that "Bob" has many technological advantages over our "Bricky" and his donkey cart (or bicycle, or truck).  He has specific tools for specific tasks.  We might ask if he is not (in Lévi-Strauss's terms)  Eddie l'Ingénieur rather than Bobric(oleur).  In any case, we have a concept that, like St. Audrey's tawdry lace, is in flux right before us.  Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose—except when they don't, which is the whole point. [6]

And, finally, there is MacGyver—a fifth generation "Bricky."  Draw your own conclusions.

[m] MacGyver et le nouveau bricolage

[n] MacGyver, paper clip, alles.

[o] Patty and Selma get goosebumps in Theory Corner

Notes

[1] Claude Lévi-Strauss, The Savage Mind (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 16-17.

[2] I am thinking of a hundred years of change that cemented a kind of national consciousness in France, during which earlier eras were transformed by larger, "linking" (and alienating) institutions.  There are several excellent books on the topic, including the very accessible The Discovery of France and the absolutely magisterial historical work Peasants into Frenchmen.

[3] The bicycle changed everything (for a while).  See, in particular, Steven Kern's The Culture of Time and Space, 1880-1918.

[4] A good friend of mine in Maine—he sells and maintains pools, and is the quintessential professional—told me an elaborate story about creating an O-ring out of a milk carton that allowed a family to fill the hot tub and have a weekend party (before he was able to get the precise part the next week). Engineer meets bricoleur.

[5] The "Fieldnotes from History" entries on the Round and Square blog are an example of this process. 

[6] The more things change, the more they stay the same—except when they don't, which is the whole point.

Click below for the other posts on bricolage in the Theory Corner series:

Bricolage 1               Bricolage 2               Bricolage 3

 

Theory Corner (1b)—Bricolage and Thought (and American Pie)

Read the Introduction to the "Theory Corner" series (here).
Click here for the Theory Corner Resource Center
See key pronunciations used in the Round and Square blog.
Click below for the other posts on bricolage in the Theory Corner series:

Bricolage 1               Bricolage 2               Bricolage 3

 

Bricolage and Thought (and American Pie)

In this entry I expand upon the picture of our bricoleur from yesterday. I have provided further reflections on bricolage from Claude Lévi-Strauss, followed by my own explication...employing the greatest of recent myths, American Pie (the song). 华

Claude Lévi-Strauss, La pensée sauvage

[a] MacGyver starter kit

Like "bricolage" on the technical plane, mythical reflection can reach brilliant unforeseen results on the intellectual plane...The "bricoleur" is adept at performing a large number of diverse tasks; but, unlike the engineer, he does not subordinate each of them to the availability of raw materials and tools conceived for the purpose of the project. His universe of instruments is closed and the rules of his game are always to make do with "whatever is at hand," that is to say with a set of tools and materials which is always finite and is also heterogeneous because what it contains bears no relation to the current project, or indeed to any particular project, but is the contingent result of all the occasions there have been to renew or enrich the stock or to maintain it with the remains of previous constructions or destructions. 

[b] Potential

The set of the "bricoleur's" means cannot therefore be defined in terms of a project (which would presuppose besides, that, as in the case of the engineer, there were, at least in theory, as many sets of tools and materials or "instrumental sets," as there are different kinds of projects). It is to be defined only by its potential use or, putting this another way and in the language of the "bricoleur" himself, because the elements are collected or retained on the principle that "they may always come in handy." Such elements are specialized up to a point, sufficiently for the "bricoleur" not to need the equipment and knowledge of all trades and professions, but not enough for each of them to have only one definite and determinate use. They each represent a set of actual and possible relations; they are "operators" but they can be used for any operations of the same type...[1]

[c] Handy

Mythical thought, that "bricoleur," builds up structures by fitting together events, or rather the remains of events, while science, "in operation" simply by virtue of coming into being, creates its means and results in the form of events, thanks to the structures which it is constantly elaborating and which are its hypotheses and theories. But it is important not to make the mistake of thinking that these are two stages or phases in the evolution of knowledge. Both approaches are equally valid....Mythical thought for its part is imprisoned in the events and experiences which it never tires of ordering and reordering in its search to find them a meaning. But it also acts as a liberator by its protest against the idea that anything can be meaningless with which science at first resigned itself to a compromise. [2]

American Myth-pie

[d] The first three volumes of Mythologiques

As with household repairs, so it is with thought—the intellectual "bricoleur" crafts new messages from a limited repertoire of shared ideas. Lest anyone think that Lévi-Strauss created small wisps of insight only to move quickly toward other ideas, it might be useful to consider the four volumes (2,200 pages in English translation) of his Mythologiques—a painstaking analytical and literary monument to the idea of bricolage. There, he builds a complex portrait of the mythmaking process that examines both the structural categories of South (and North) American myth and various aspects of their narration.

[e] Structural categories in myth

Let's look at a quick example that parallels the story of Bricky and the bathtub plug in our first Theory Corner entry. We shall explore the myth of American Pie—an epic "telling" that blends disparate elements of shared history and culture in a narrative that could easily be retold in countless satisfying ways.  The only "difference" between the song "American Pie" and what might well have been a myth (in a preliterate culture that depended on many Don McLeans to entertain and shape our thinking) is that the one was fixed and carved into vinyl, while myth is ever-changing and ever retold). 

Please repress Madonna memories here.  

Take a listen to an American myth (now or later). It will take about ten minutes, so be careful with your schedule. 

American Pie

[e] Myth etched into vinyl

American Pie begins with stock elements of shared cultural and temporal values, as well as contingent fragments of individual narration (stuff that just happened to happen to the singer). 

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they'd be happy for a while. 

It calls to mind a wide variety of cultural forms with powerful, shared qualities—especially the quality of a good beginning. 

            Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns 

            driven time and again off course, once he had plundered

            the hallowed heights of Troy.

            In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. 

            Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

            Call me Ishmael. 

[d] Writing culture

The tale is sung by the poet following the narrative progression ("beginning" to "end" with satisfying chunks of "stuff" in-between) that is expected in virtually all human verbal interaction. Think of Don McLean as a bricoleur, now.  He links key elements of shared experience as though they were plucked from the back of his intellectual donkey cart.  He reshapes them (axe, saw, penknife, and hunting knife—employed by the mind) into an elaborate, story-form...bathtub plug.  As though starting from the question/problem "how might we think about this turbulent decade?"—instead of "how might I plug this tub?"—the poet grasps his tools and begins to sort through his "stuff" as he contrives to craft an answer.  McLean's retro-fitted "plug" fits beautifully for many listeners, and we achieve a kind of satisfaction from the "myth" that "answers" many aspects of the core question (what do we make of this turbulent decade?).  We do all of this without really "knowing" precisely what it all of the elements "mean."  And without having a "core" question. It was just a device for moving us along in our thinking; now we must abandon it.

Myth is like that. 

             But February made me shiver
             With every paper I'd deliver.
             Bad news on the doorstep;
             I couldn't take one more step.

             I can't remember if I cried

             When I read about his widowed bride,
             But something touched me deep inside
             The day the music died. 

[e] Quests for "the" meaning

This is the "engineer's" flaw when dealing with myth (or "American Pie").  People who attempt to master the lyrics, to tame them with literalism, end up frustrated, ludicrous, or (usually) both. They make the fundamental error of which  Lévi-Strauss warned—substituting the scientific for the mythical, the engineer's approach for the bricoleur's.  The consequences of this mismatch range from silliness ("was 'Lennon' or 'Lenin' reading a book on Marx...or Mark's...Marcus, or marks?)... Running to printed versions of the lyrics will only further confuse the "reading engineer."  For example, I always "hear" the lyrics in a way not rendered in the text (you may well do this, too).  You see, the force of the song/myth is verbal, and chasing written text will only mire a person further in messy issues of authorial intent and intentional authority.  The sensible mythographer (and listener) will follow the flow of the narrative, the "shape" of the images, and the musicality of the telling.  It is as much about rhyme and cadence as it is about details. 

            So bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
            Drove my Chevy to the levee,
            But the levee was dry.
            And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
            Singin', "this'll be the day that I die...
            this'll be the day that I die."

[g] Engineer meets bricoleur

We all know the kind of mind that seeks to track down every reference in the quest to find the "real" meaning (often arguing in a superior tone with those who "just want to enjoy the song").  Many pleasant repasts have been ruined by such conduct.  People spend vast amounts of time arguing "which one is right."  For Lévi-Strauss, it is a false question.  They are fundamentally different.  They are two kinds of thought, each amenable to its own kinds of questions—and quite clunky when dealing with the others.  Ask a bricoleur to "fix" a computer's circuitry; ask an engineer to make a bike wheel from a tree stump.  The former is incapable of meeting the challenge; the latter is capable, but perhaps disdainful.  There is an almost perfect analogy here to the perception that we have today—in literate, "modern" societies—to intellect, thought, education, and knowledge.

Engineer and bricoleur...rarely the twain do meet.

NEXT
Theory Corner 1c—History and Change 

Notes

[1] Claude Lévi-Strauss, The Savage Mind (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 17-18. Italics mine.
[2] The Savage Mind, 22. Italics mine.

Click below for the other posts on bricolage in the Theory Corner series:

Bricolage 1               Bricolage 2               Bricolage 3