Valentina
Viscardi
7 April 2015
Travel
Literature
A 'Snap' of History
I love going home for holiday
breaks. I look forward to entering my
home and reacquainting myself with all the family photos I haven’t looked at, in
what feels like years. Every time, I
take a new set of older and maturing eyes, I find something different to notice
about it. For instance, I see
resemblance between my mother and her grand parents. I look into the eyes of my Nanny and see my round blue eyes looking back. Although generations apart, we are connected
through that little 2x2 picture that is proudly displayed in my mother’s china
cabinet. Even if I can’t recreate the
memory that is captured in that particular photograph, my mom or my grandmother
take great pleasure in detailing the moment in time. It is how our history lives on, one picture
at a time, one story at a time.
Similarly in Art Spiegelman’s MAUS II, the use of photos and comics
portrays the relationship of the author and his father as well as his father
and mother’s survival account of Aushchwitz.
Spiegelman’s retelling of his Father’s story is artfully crafted into a
comic book, in which he utilizes the technique of breaking the frame, in order to connect his story of his father, to
himself today, as well as with us as readers.
This becomes apparent on page 114 through page 115 of the text. Notice on these pages, Spiegelman is going
through his family’s photos. But, these
photos are not confined to the frame, they seep out and become the background
to the entire page. To add, on page 134,
Spiegelman includes a real authentic photo of his father that is quite drastic
to his cartooned, mice version of his family.
Admit the retelling of his mother
and father’s story in Aushchwitz, Spiegelman struggles to identify with his
family. He recalls the photo of his
deceased brother that hung in his parent’s bedroom, “They didn’t talk about
Richieu, but that photo was a kind of reproach.
He’d have become a doctor and married a wealthy Jewish girl…the creep”
(15). From this line, it can be
understood that Spiegelman doesn’t feel like he belongs to the family for he
lacks their common denominator—the Holocaust.
In a way, Spiegelman is jealous of their experience at the very
beginning of the comic.
However, when Spiegelman and his
Father take out the family photos, Spiegelman is suddenly a part of the family
as the reader can tell by the way he portrays the falling pictures out of the
frame. They are not confined to just a
frame that encompasses his Father’s speaking or character, it involves
Spiegelman, and it also involves us as readers.
This is especially true when we are introduced to the real photo of his
father. At that moment in the text, we
are face to face with a photo that is similar and familiar to us.
Spiegelman, like myself, tries to
place himself within his own family history.
He paints himself at his desk wearing a mouse mask with a human body in
order to try to recreate the feeling his parents and brother went through
(41). In a similar manner, I always
manage to ask my grandmother, to tell me how I am similar to my grandfather I
have never met. I try so desperately to
imagine his voice, or ask my grandma if I do any thing to mirror his quirkiness. Apparently I walk like him (a peppy sort of
walk). Thus photos are able not only to
seek the physical resemblance between the viewer and the person in the picture,
but it creates a special kind of oral story telling. The story of that particular photo is passed
from generation and generation.
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