Part Two: Heartstrings
A note: My descriptions here do not really do this piece justice. If you want a better idea of how it works, I invite you to check it out for yourself.
Strings, by Dan Waber, is a simple piece at first glance. There's only about fifteen different words in it overall, but it shows spoken relationships in a silent way that I would have said was impossible before reading this. This was the personification of words, and it makes us wonder what exactly we've lost by all switching over to Times New Roman.
Waber illustrates an argument for us as a long, black line that seesaws back and forth to form yes and no, like a person in a rocking chair. By the lazy rhythm, we can tell it's a peaceful argument, but still firm, and it will loop forever. It could be between two people, or it could be internal. The emotions involved, however, are the same.
A second argument is more heated. Convictions are challenged. Yes and no fly past simultaneously, as if trying to outdance one another. Maybe hovers around the edges nervously, then settles down in the middle to wait.
The flirt is encountered next. She (she was female to me, though she was just black words on a while screen) starts with a firm no. But in just a moment, no mutates into a maybe. In your head you hear the, "Noooo...maaaaybeee...." of a girl trying not to act too eager. Her voice shows through in the rhythm of the words and the way they change.
The flirt has changed her mind. She says yes, but the yes doesn't come out right away. It clips the edges of the screen in a childish manner, showing only glimpses, almost as it's ashamed to be seen by it's friends. Then it grows confident and flies across the middle, "Yes, yes, YES!" before doing a little victory spin. Who can't see the girl in that, a girl who stutters before breaking out into a smile?
Next, Waber shows us laughter.
Ha, says one side of the string.
Haha, agrees the next.
Hahaha
Hahahaha...
...until there is no more room to distinguish between which side is speaking, and the laughter becomes a single string of bubbly laughter that makes you want to laugh along.
These are just some of the "relationships" Waber shows us, using handwriting instead of sound to convey tone. The fact that so little concrete information is given makes it even easier to relate to the piece: since there are no scenarios, we make them ours.
Finally, we are left with this:
"Words are like strings that I pull out of my mouth."
Strings, by Dan Waber, is a simple piece at first glance. There's only about fifteen different words in it overall, but it shows spoken relationships in a silent way that I would have said was impossible before reading this. This was the personification of words, and it makes us wonder what exactly we've lost by all switching over to Times New Roman.
Waber illustrates an argument for us as a long, black line that seesaws back and forth to form yes and no, like a person in a rocking chair. By the lazy rhythm, we can tell it's a peaceful argument, but still firm, and it will loop forever. It could be between two people, or it could be internal. The emotions involved, however, are the same.
A second argument is more heated. Convictions are challenged. Yes and no fly past simultaneously, as if trying to outdance one another. Maybe hovers around the edges nervously, then settles down in the middle to wait.
The flirt is encountered next. She (she was female to me, though she was just black words on a while screen) starts with a firm no. But in just a moment, no mutates into a maybe. In your head you hear the, "Noooo...maaaaybeee...." of a girl trying not to act too eager. Her voice shows through in the rhythm of the words and the way they change.
The flirt has changed her mind. She says yes, but the yes doesn't come out right away. It clips the edges of the screen in a childish manner, showing only glimpses, almost as it's ashamed to be seen by it's friends. Then it grows confident and flies across the middle, "Yes, yes, YES!" before doing a little victory spin. Who can't see the girl in that, a girl who stutters before breaking out into a smile?
Next, Waber shows us laughter.
Ha, says one side of the string.
Haha, agrees the next.
Hahaha
Hahahaha...
...until there is no more room to distinguish between which side is speaking, and the laughter becomes a single string of bubbly laughter that makes you want to laugh along.
These are just some of the "relationships" Waber shows us, using handwriting instead of sound to convey tone. The fact that so little concrete information is given makes it even easier to relate to the piece: since there are no scenarios, we make them ours.
Finally, we are left with this:
"Words are like strings that I pull out of my mouth."
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