Theory Teacher's Blog

Ceci n’est pas un chat

This past Wednesday, the Los Angeles Times interviewed anthropologist and author of Pink Globalization: Hello Kitty’s Trek Across the Pacific, Christina Yano, on the occasion of a new Hello Kitty exhibition at the Japanese American National Museum. In that interview, Dr. Yano remarked that the creator of Hello Kitty, Sanrio, was emphatic that Hello Kitty is not a cat; rather, she is a girl named Kitty White…. Who knew?!?!…. The next day, the blog-o-sphere was full of attempts at witty rejoinders such as the Huffington Post’s “Hello Kitty Is Not a Cat because Nothing Makes Sense Anymore” and Jezebel’s “Wait, Hello Kitty Isn’t a Cat?” And then the following days, there quickly appeared some humorous responses to those initial responses, such as The New Yorker magazine’s “The Truth about Hello Kitty,” Kotaku East‘s “Don’t Be Silly, Hello Kitty Is a Cat” and a cartoon riffing off the famous “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (This is not a pipe) painting by surrealist artist Rene Magritte that inspired a playful meditative essay by the philosopher Michelle Foucault on the nature of language and representation.

cnestpasunkitty

But I guess I have a different take on the truth of Hello Kitty’s cattiness. It’s not just about anthropomorphism, personification,  fetish, totems, etc., etc. These literary and anthropological terms certainly indicate what Hello Kitty is (the relative truth of her identity), but they don’t really get into what Hello Kitty does — the how and why of the happening, the adorable cuddles, the group-hug of commodified cute, and the truth of becoming a body without organs through the animal.

Here’s the thing: Kitty White has no mouth, and yet her existence is bilingual.

She is both Hello Kitty and haro kiti, an English girl represented by English words within a Japanese world. Her face, resembling a blank wall with two black holes for eyes, seems to utterly lack emotion or expression and yet at the same time also seems to be pure affect, pure emotional attachment. It is nostalgia for a memory of childhood that never existed, a childhood before mouths, before feet, before hands, and most of all before identity and definition. Paradoxically, it is through the identity of the cat that one achieves a a blissful non-identity, transcending the Japanese-ness of the product and the English-ness of the backstory through the truth of Hello Kitty’s reproducibility and potentiality of desire. Children never want just one Hello Kitty product. They want a whole pack of them, and a whole pack of friends who have them too.

Hello Kitty was created in 1974, the same year my sister (who adored Hello Kitty when she was a child) was born, and just one year after Foucault published This Is not a Pipe, and just two years after Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari first theorized the body-without-organs in their critique of psychoanalysis, Anti-Oedipus. And we can easily imagine Foucault, Deleuze, and Guattari drinking wine together, watching their children, and taking a delight in Hello Kitty as a playful image that undoes its own meaning — neither the cat that reveals the cattiness of the human nor the human that reveals the humanity of the cat, but the body without organs that resists signification and opens up the possibility for other, global attachments, ways of configuring our desire, becoming part of a capitalist machinery. In their later book, A Thousand Plateaus, Deleuze and Guattari describe the body without organs as a becoming animal as the human experiments with the possibility of what a body can do not by animalizing their humanity or humanizing the animal, but by becoming an abstract machine with the potential to become… whatever. They also describe the most elementary drawing of a face as a “white wall/black hole system,” and anyone who has ever doodled knows this to be true. Hello Kitty’s face is not a form of Kitty White’s subjectivity or true, inner self-hood (whether a cat or a girl), but rather, just like Magritte’s pipe, it is an abstract signifying machine whose significance is its own redundancy.

Obviously, Hello Kitty is a machine.

_____________________________

Addendum

After posting this blog post, I began doing my laundry, and doing my laundry always gets me to thinking about what I was doing before I started doing the laundry, and at that moment, I realized that I had forgotten to include in my blog this bit of evidence of the machinic assemblage of desire that is Hello Kitty and other cat-people (e.g., the DC comic book character Catwoman or the Japanese manga character Doraemon, the robot cat) — the recent popularity of Shark Cat.

 

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August 31, 2014 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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