The Success of Failure

Hello hello!

This month, I have an analysis of a friend's beautiful art exhibit. Bonnie Patton is an artist from Edmonton, AB. Originally from North Dakota, they came here for university, and fell in love with Canada. Conceived before Donald Trump's rise, the project has additional layers of resonance now...

 An Analysis of Bonnie Patton’s 1984 Cranes

At the heart of traditional dystopian fiction is a theme of failure.  1984 is a prime example of this: the failure of Outer Party members to resist their training, the failure of proles—thus far—to protest, and the failure of Winston Smith and Julia’s love. At first glance, it would seem to have little in common with the children’s story Sadako and The Thousand Paper Cranes. Patton’s art finds the links between these books and explores them, creating a poignant visual essay.

Patton started folding cranes from the last page of 1984. Like Sadako and The Thousand Paper Cranes, the tragedy and appeal of both books comes partly from foreboding and the knowledge that both characters are ultimately unsuccessful. Sadako, who suffers from cancer and hopes the gods will grant her wish of being cured if she folds all one thousand cranes, dies before she can complete her task. Winston Smith fails to resist indoctrination by Big Brother, and ultimately betrays both his lover Julia and himself under the pressure of torture. One character dies physically; the other, spiritually.

Photo credit: Bonnie Patton, used with permission

The fragility and ephemeral nature of papercraft highlights the fragility in the struggles of characters in these books, as well—by reducing 1984 to its very pages, Patton has, in a sense, destroyed it, just as Winston participates in the constant destruction of information and documents, erasing history. His glass paperweight, representing his soul—“so fragile after all” is crushed and broken by the state, literally and figuratively. And yet, because the pages are folded, made into something new, there is an element of transformation and memorial tribute—the cranes are bespoke, handmade objects of beauty, made from a book that is literally about the destruction of beauty by ugliness and industrialization gone awry. The book itself was printed through industrial processes, and Patton has reduced and transformed it into a sculpture, a tribute to the young Japanese girl who wished so hard, she inspired millions to remember her.

Then, too, just as the cranes themselves are symmetrical, there is a dark reciprocity created by the linking of these two books. Oceania wages war against Eastasia (as well as Eurasia). Published in 1949, 1984 was written with full context of the Second World War, and strongly inspired by it. In both Sadako and The Thousand Paper Cranes and 1984, it is the civilians who suffer. Sadako is one of the thousands of Japanese people who suffered from cancer (and other health complications) as a result of the atomic bombs. Winston, arguably, is one of the people who plays a role in the dropping of those bombs, reinforcing the importance of the constant war and supporting it with his actions. By using Sadako and The Thousand Paper Cranes to literally reshape 1984, an inherent criticism of colonialism is displayed. It is also a reversal, with the cranes “overpowering” the structure of Orwell’s book—after all, the text can still be read, but the dominant visual impression is of the cranes, rather than the book from which they were formed.

Photo credit: Bonnie Patton, used with permission

Although the delicate cranes—which could be tangled, ruined by a strong breeze or wind—are few in number, and unable to fly, their embodiment of failure is not without a hopeful aspect. In 1984, Orwell writes, “if there was any hope, it lay in the proles.” Winston fails, but also hands over the torch to the bulk of Airstrip One’s population—showing that while his personal revolution fails, it need not truly be the doom of Oceania. The book has become a symbol of the fight against censorship, oppression, and jingoistic wars. Sadako’s cranes have become a symbol of peace across the world, and thousands of cranes are still hung on her memorial every year. According to the book, she herself was unable to fold all the cranes, but many others have done it for her. August 6^th has been named International Peace Day in her honour. The cranes, in a sense, show an allegiance to peace and transformation. Though there are only a hundred and twenty-seven, they speak powerfully about two stories that have shaped the world, and connect them across time and distance. A project predicated on the failure of two books and their themes, then, is ultimately a tribute to their success. 

Photo credit: Bonnie Patton, used with permission

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