achieve (for example, a painting can be described in words). But we can say that words find it more difficult to chart space; to convey close physical feeling; to replicate touch; to communicate the direct, visceral nature of the
seen
, whether in photographic or painted or sculpted form, or simply in the perceived everyday world; and to convey movement. On first consideration, it would seem that words cannot match the
senses
or combinations of sensory experience in terms of their directness. The very abstracted nature of the word removes it at one stage from the immediate experience of everyday life. This general point holds true, even though we can all provide examples of where verbal language had a direct, physical, visceral effect on a situation or state of being: a declaration of love, a decision of “guilty” or “not guilty,” the communication of failure or success. We also know from speech act theory that small words (“I do” in a marriage ceremony, for example) can have long-reaching personal, legal, spiritual, financial, and public consequences. Nevertheless, we must accept that words alone do not constitute the entire communicational repertoire; thus, they should not determine the scope of rhetoric. One of the main points of the present book is that we need a new theory of rhetoric because we have come to realize that words alone do not represent the full range of communicational resource available to us to make and convey meaning.
To reinforce the point about the limitations of words, consider the following scenarios. The direction of gaze in a crowded room, especially when two sets of eyes meet, can communicate mutual interest and engagement. Hunched shoulders and a stooped physical posture in any number of sports can indicate the acceptance of defeat and the end of team effort. In a dance, the intricate positioning and repositioning of bodies in relation to each other communicate an expressive, aesthetic kind of meaning to an audience that is not expressed in words. A music composition, or the sound of wind in the trees on a winter walk in a landscape devoid of verbal language both convey the structure of feeling and perception, and the read-off of meaning, that may be partially shaped by previous verbal encounters and repositories, but in their immediate state, do not call on words for their communicational power. A final example: the construction of a city, its architecture and its layout,although partially constructed with the help of words, depends also on mathematical calculations, spatial considerations, and the sheer deployment of physical materials to “make a statement.” Rhetoric, because it is the theory of the arts of discourse and communication in any mode (and, verbally, in any language), has the power not only to delineate and explore the internal workings of those separate fields and modes, but also to link them.
Reflecting on the Berlin Street
If words themselves are inadequate to the task of providing an overarching, explanatory theory for the experiences on the Berlin street, and if, too, “there is more than multimodality here,” how could rhetoric describe and explain the phenomena? Further, how would a theory of contemporary rhetoric begin to make sense of the scene?
One could circumvent and short-circuit the argument by saying that a description of the scene in words defeats itself from the start. There is more to the scene than words. But we have already accepted that words in themselves—and the whole repertoire of verbal language—can perform certain functions and not others. So we need to set a more demanding challenge. If multimodality acknowledges the range and combination of modes that are deployed in the production and experience of the scene, then why cannot multimodality provide a full account of the scene? The reason is that multimodality, along with consideration of media, describes
resources
rather than operations and communicative lines. As Kress has