In which I use this funny title to talk about transformation and its themes in art
Full Disclaimer: Iâm not an art historian nor a psychiatrist. All I say is my own conjecture and opinion based on what I know and have experienced. If you are any of those, please drop a comment! Iâd love to hear your thoughts on the matter!
I first read Franz Kafkaâs âThe Metamorphosisâ back when I was 18. At the time I had just started to live on my own and had begun to feel more comfortable with a lot of things surrounding myself. Being a furry, being âgayâ (oh you poor summer child), and in general a weirdo.
So I sit down and start browsing the web for âBooks About Transformationâ. It had always been a subject I enjoyed tremendously, ever since a kid the idea of a person turning into something else had lived rent-free in my brain. (I blame the Aladdin TV Show. Thereâs an episode where Jasmine gets turned into a snake and⌠listen that changed my brain chemistry when I was a little grub)
So I go and start looking for REAL literature written by REAL writers. It was a sort of way to try and validate my obsession with the thematic. No shade to all the furry artists whose work Iâd enjoyed reading and looking⌠But to a silly young adult (moth) it didnât feel like âreal artâ. Just, you know, kink material.
And so, oh boy oh boy, I find âThe Metamorphosisâ as presented with the blurb âStory about a man who finds himself turned into a large insect.â. Yeah THIS IS WHAT I WANT, LETâS GOOO
My favourite aspect of transformation stories is when the TF "victim" is at first horrified about it but slowly comes to term with it and comes to love their new form and everything that comes with it, to the point where they can't really see themselves going back to the way they were before, even if given the choice.
I hadn't really thought about transformation as a disability metaphor before and honestly, I don't know how I didn't see it earlier. And even going with disability as a whole: Yes it sucks. Yes I wish it could go away. But at the same time, it is part of me and it has given me a sense of community with others. Rage against failing systems and ableism. Compassion for others in a way I couldn't have before. I've mourned my life as an abled person many times over, and I probably will do it again, and that's okay.
Because, at the end of the day, it is part of who I am.
