I know it’s trendy to fight the system and cry that we are all becoming slaves of technology, but this attitude overlooks that computers and phones are tools for communicating. When someone thinks I’m an idiot smiling at a machine, I’m actually smiling at my girlfriend who is 10000 miles away and whom I would have never met if not for these newfangled electronics. As they say: when the wise man points to the moon, the fool looks at the finger.
This is a topic that I’ve been wanting to tackle for a while now; much credit to this excellent post for bringing it to the front of my brain.
The Doctor’s dilemma in [The Waters of Mars], as in so many of the best of Davies’ episodes, was a moral one. It wasn’t a problem that could be solved by being clever or using the sonic or the TARDIS to fix everything. There was no winning scenario—the Doctor had to choose the best of two bad outcomes and it hurt to watch him do it. It made us hurt for him, which made us love him all the more. The Doctor knows what fixed points in time are, so can he refuse to save Pompeii? Should he have prevented the Dalek race from ever being born? Was it wrong to destroy the Racnoss, or was it just wrong to take steely pleasure in it? Was it wrong to depose Harriet Jones? There’s a moral question like that underpinning all the best of Who.
There’s very little of this exploration in Moffat’s Who, which creates an Eleven who is that arrogant, dangerous Time Lord Victorious from the end of “Waters of Mars.” He doesn’t have moral dilemmas, he’s not bothered about the consequences of his actions, he doesn’t even pause long enough to worry about the people who might get trampled under his feet or feel bad when innocent bystanders end up as collateral damage. Consider the particularly nauseating example of the solution to the Silence infestation of Earth in “Day of the Moon”: humans being hypnotoaded into being weapons of niche destruction. Perhaps it’s a testament to the vividness of his storytelling, but think about what Moffat has created here: in that world, thanks to the Doctor, every time you or I turn around we might feel a compulsion to splatter open a skull. There’s very little to love about a character with so much power who wields it so carelessly.
Part of what’s so maddening is that Moffat often has the opportunity to explore the moral dilemmas right in front of him and refuses to do anything with it. If there’s a consequence to the Eleventh Doctor’s behavior, Moffat’s hiding it inside a strangely constructed Rubik’s Cube, and we’re no longer convinced he isn’t more interested in playing with the puzzle than finding what’s inside.
so for my art project we had to fake a death/murder. for mine I did someone who had jumped off a building. when I was laying down while the picture was being taken, 7 people came running up to me asking if I was okay and if I needed an ambulance etc. I’ve been suicidal for a very long time, and the thoughts of jumping off buildings and ending my life have gone through my mind a thousand times. But the fact that people actually stopped and came running over to see if I was alright made me see that people do care, strangers care. so many people looked and walked past, but these 7 people some how took these suicidal feelings away… weird huh? But the moral of this story is that people do care about you, even people who don’t know who you are.
Signal boosting this shit
A great Tumblr find! Several wonderfully detailed photos of the Gates of Hell bronze doors by Auguste Rodin. The AMAM’s Rodin sculpture, The Prodigal Son, created by Rodin for inclusion in this work in the late 1880s. It appears twice on the right door, both vertically and horizontally as part of a group with a female body (seen in the third and sixth images here) later reworked by the artist as the Fugit Amor group, and symbolic of the disillusionment and pain of dying love. Neither group is present in an April 1887 photograph of the plaster model for the Gates, but a freestanding Fugit Amor was exhibited in plaster in Paris in 1887; therefore, the initial conception for the group, and Oberlin’s male figure, probably dates to that year. As he did with other figures from the Gates, Rodin enlarged, modified, and reused a single figure from his initial idea to create a single monumental work, as is the case for The Prodigal Son.
Details from the Gates of Hell by Rodin..Bronze doors originally commissioned for a new museum in Paris which never opened. Rodin worked on the 200 separate elements for almost 37 years. Planned on the characters of Dante’s The Divine Comedy, the finished piece became a more abstract work with many of Rodin’s popular motifs included amongst the tortured souls
You’ll recognize The Three Shades, which can be seen in Gallery 10!