Media Soup

Plenty of reminiscence this week about the passing of J.D. Salinger, much of it in the vein of what Catcher in the Rye meant to me . . . While I hate to follow the crowd, I must admit that when I heard the news, I turned instinctively to my bedside table. There was my copy of Catcher, in full view and the only book there. It is a pocketbook edition; maroon cover, yellow title, yellowed pages. Old book smell.

Not sure how long it has been on the nightstand, the last time I read it lying in bed, or in fact when I first read this book and it (must have) influenced my whole world view.  I mean, that must be what happened, because there it is, a fundamental piece of my personal mythology and moral landscape, and the volume I turn to when I need a little inspiration before falling asleep.

For a slightly different perspective on Apple’s Final Cut Server software, check out this article I wrote for “Creative Solutions.”

Here is a taste:

“What is the real potential of the intersection of data processing and digital media? How can Final Cut Server lead to new ways of thinking about media production and consumption? What can we make with this tool that can help communicate and understand the world in deeper and more meaningful ways?”

Thanks to everyone who came out to my talk, “Video Compression for a Good User Experience” at GV Expo.

As promised (both in person and on Facebook), I have posted my speaker notes:

PDF 22MB

Keynote 43MB

So, everyone seems to agree that the Pirate Bay case is fascinating (well, I don’t know about “everyone” really, but me and some other people anyway) but what I am wondering if anyone has real positions on the issue(s)?

I’ll briefly relate my own experience: my book was pirated as PDF, almost certainly through a security breach at the publisher. After being notified, the publisher’s attorneys pursued notice and takedown on all of the sites where the bootleg was available. All of the sites complied with the request EXCEPT for Pirate Bay, who wrote back basically to say “Fuck You, we pride ourselves in flaunting your laws.”

Now generally, I am very sympathetic to the idea that information wants to be free, a proponent of liberal application of fair use, and fan of the digital frontier organization, open source software and etc. However, there ought to be basic protection of intellectual property at the purest level (for instance in the case of my publisher and Pirate Bay). Right?

I mean, do people agree that Pirate Bay is in some sense in the wrong, and should (in terms of civil society) be held accountable for their actions? Or, do people have radically different views than mine?

To be honest, I struggle with these questions, but come on, when someone steals your stuff, and you ask them nicely to stop distributing for free (or to profit from ad revenues) and they say fuck you – shouldn’t the authorities take them to task?

Last month I had the privilege to participate in an extraordinary round table  on the topic of Internet Video Innovation hosted by the Information Society Project at Yale Law School. What follows is the “thought paper” I composed for the event. It’s a bit long for a blog post, but whatever.

Toward a Fuller Conception of Participatory Culture

“Media convergence” and “participatory culture” are two often-heard phrases in current theoretical and practical discussions of Internet video. Henry Jenkins defines media convergence as:

. . .the flow of content across media platforms, the cooperation between multiple media industries, and the migratory behavior of media audiences who will go almost anywhere in search of the type of entertainment experience they want (2).

He cautions that we not see convergence as a mainly technical phenomenon but as “a cultural shift as consumers are encouraged to seek out new information and make connections among dispersed media content (3).” Jenkins defines participatory culture as a move away from the traditional notion of audience and producer:

Rather than talking about media producers and consumers as occupying separate roles, we might see them as participants who interact with each other according to a new set of rules that none of us fully understand (3).

Essentially, convergence is the breakdown of the barriers between traditional media types and participatory culture is the breakdown between the conventional roles of consumer and producer.

The premise of this thought paper is that media convergence (both the evolution of media technologies as well the cultural shift that Jenkins focuses on) is well under way, but the shift toward a participatory culture is just getting started. Media producers, consumers and theorists have all become relatively comfortable with the idea that the borders between media types are eroding irrevocably. In contrast, media prognosticators and the public at large have been slower to grapple with the possible new set of rules that Jenkins suggests for a participatory culture. The breakdown between the traditional roles of media producer and consumer is potentially more profound culturally than the breakdown of the traditional media types. It is also (so far) less defined in the cultural imagination. If this premise is correct, then we have already seen a relatively clear vision of what convergence looks like, but we have seen only a hint of the full potential of participatory culture.

Evidence of the mainstream acceptance of media convergence is apparent not only in academia but also in popular culture. Fahrenheit 451, originally published in 1953, depicts homes with full-wall screens to deliver the maximum amount of converged media (as the government prosecutes a campaign to eradicate books [Bradbury]). In the present day, a TV commercial for media services has a football player literally leaping from the TV to the computer to the cell phone. Companies like Apple Computer have made the concept of media convergence a consumer ideal and a marketing message. While we don’t yet have the exact technologies depicted in Fahrenheit 451 or the football commercial, our collective culture has at least contemplated both the shiny perfection of converged media as well as its dystopian potential.

Evidence for the claim that our conceptualization of participatory culture is not fully developed is harder to come by because it is notoriously difficult to identify that which is not yet imagined. Two things that can help ameliorate this problem are: (1) identifying examples of formulations and terminologies that are outdated or inherently insufficient and (2) exploring emerging examples of participatory culture that are on the cutting edge of challenging our conception of the relationships between media, creator, and audience.

One example of the first approach is the phrase “user generated content” when used as a catchall for (among other things) social networks, online video platforms, and citizen journalism. While these phenomena are important examples of our emerging participatory culture, the phrase “user generated content” works against deep re-examination of the traditional roles of producer and audience. It assumes a “user” who (it is inherently implied) is fundamentally different than a producer (or professional). The language describing some of the best examples of the emerging phenomenon undercuts the potential for its ultimate development.

My own thought process as I approached this conference is also revealing. Looking at the participants and topics, I felt that there was a wealth of knowledge regarding the consumer side of Internet video, but that I could bring a special perspective to the changes that online video technology has brought to the video creation process. Then I realized that I had made the same error, placing an artificial barrier between creators and consumers and letting old ways of thinking define how I approached a situation. Future “prosumers” of media in a participatory culture (I had to remind myself) may not draw the same distinctions between viewing, commenting on, editing, creating, and repurposing media. As Jenkins says, they will be operating under “a new set of rules that none of us fully understand.”

One place that new conceptions are emerging is the rapidly growing world of social networks. A friend from college posts videos of obscure rock and punk shows he finds on YouTube to his Facebook wall. The most recent is “The Cramps: Live at Napa State Mental Hospital.” He also writes commentary, for this one it is: “The Cramps, punks, Californian mental patients. The concert of a Nembutal delirium. The lines blur, everyone dances.” He is not producing this content, but he is curating, reviewing, and syndicating it. Moreover, he has created a micro channel, broadcasting to an audience defined by knowing him. All he has technically done is link a video from one Internet platform to another and written a comment. Those few clicks have a direct influence to what I watch online.

A final example of emerging participatory culture is the videos made by players of games and residents of virtual worlds such as World of Warcraft and Second Life. Known as “machinima” (a neologism combining “machine” and “cinema”[Bailey]) these virtually created videos thoroughly defy the conventional division between consumer and producer. Traditionally we think of the players of a game as consumers, and the makers of a video as producers – but in this case, participants are doing both simultaneously.
Neither of these examples is without issue. Who is the owner of this content? Is this repurposing cheating the performers in the concert videos and the designers of the game environments? What about, as in Second Life, if other participants create large portions of the virtual environment that is the setting for the video? These questions can be vexing at the moment, as Jenkins points out: we do not yet understand the new rules.

A turn toward the questions surrounding participatory culture is warranted as we continue to experience and theorize Internet culture and new forms and models of video content creation and distribution. New vectors may emerge from more thorough conceptualization of a deep blurring of the traditional lines between creators and consumers of media.

Works Cited

Bailey, Anthony. “Origins of the word ‘Machinima.’” Anthony Bailey’s blog. 9 Sept. 2007. 20 Feb. 2008. <http://anthonybailey.net/blog/2007/09/09/origins-of-the-word-machinima>

Bradbury, Ray. Fahrenheit 451. New York: Random House, 1953.

Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture. New York: New York University Press, 2006.

So, Arin took an oil painting course this semester and as I watched her paint, I got the thought to try it myself. No particular reason I chose Sir Ian, I was just searching the web for a photo with certain textual qualities. It’s all kind of random, but fun, and I think it turned out well for a first try.

In my last post, I was bragging about a letter that to Christian Science Monitor published some 10 years ago. This week, we were met with the news that this venerable national daily paper is ending its printed version.

This comes as a double blow to me. First, because I consistently argue against the “sky is falling” cries about the changing face of journalism. I like to ask, has any media gone away? We still have AM radio . . . . Second, because I subscribe to the CSM, and enjoy reading the print version very much.

It seems I am getting my comeuppance.

More than 10 years ago, I was offended by an op-ed in the Christian Science Monitor. My Response is pasted below. Can’t beleive it has been so long. Some things seem different, but some seem just the same . . .

from the January 12, 1998 edition

Give Hip-Hop a Chance

In response to the opinion article “For ’90s Kids, the Boom Box’s Blast Has Drowned Out the Written Word” (Dec. 24): It pains me to see an educator take such a close-minded stance. Prof. Chet Raymo’s main gripe is that listening to music has all but replaced reading for pleasure on today’s college campuses, and that the music being listened to is meaningless and just plain bad.

Mr. Raymo says, “One of the down sides to being a teacher of young people is that one must actually become aware of the existence of groups such as Wu-Tang.” Musical differences aside, my real problem is the approach in the article: Listen to as little as possible, and jump to conclusions as quickly as possible.

The author has forgotten that all good teachers are also students. I have some suggestions and questions I’d like him to consider: Take a walk across campus to the humanities department and ask about the issues of identity and voice in minority and oppressed cultures. Think about these ideas and listen to Wu-Tang again. Are the lyrics violent and obscene? If so, why?

You disdain the Wu’s “Cash Rules Everything Around Me” anthem and pine for the good old days of idealism at college. Better you should ask why idealism is tempered with such heavy doses of cynicism these days. You say the music of the ghetto is meaningless to affluent college students. Instead of condemning what seems incongruent, you should ask: Why are middle-class white kids into hip-hop and black inner-city culture?

The statement ” nothing matters except what music-industry megamasters decide will matter” is dead wrong if applied to Wu-Tang: they maintain creative control by producing and promoting their own music.

My intent is not to argue what music is good, but to urge you to listen before you judge. Hip-hop is very intelligent music; most people who don’t think so have simply not listened well enough. Check out one of my favorite rap artists, KRS-ONE (Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone). Dubbing himself “the Teacher,” KRS-ONE’s lyrics contain poetry, philosophy, and history – all the things you find lacking in the music of today’s youth. When divisions between races, generations, and economic classes seem to be growing larger, it’s the place of the educator to bridge gaps, not build walls.

Jason Osder

Rollinsville, Colo.

A while back, my cousin Blaine and I were having an argument over film. In particular, I was saying that I wanted my film to have traditional distribution where it can be seen in a theater first.

Why? He wanted to know. Why would I care if my film were primarily distributed on the Internet (for instance) as long as a large number of people saw it?

Part of the answer maybe egotistical: about recognition. Part of the answer maybe traditional: adherence to a form called documentary film that I happened to have studied. And part is political: we have the right to view these films in public. But I think the most interesting part of the answer maybe a belief that film is a social medium. It is not just about the product on the screen, it is about the experience of watching that product in a group with other people – sitting in the dark with strangers and sharing the experience.

This idea has again been at the forefront of my mind at this week’s Silverdocs festival. In packed theaters, aficionados pack in to see brilliant film after brilliant film. Then, we are most often treated to a Q&A with the filmmaker(s) and often the subjects as well. I am a geek at the science fair (and I am driving my girlfriend Arin up the wall).

The idea struck home even more so several months ago at a screening of Nanking at the Avalon in North West DC. I’ll skip the usual summary of this intense film and the standard exploration of its creative license in using well-known actors to read the letters and journals of long-dead subjects on camera in an interview style. I will say that I appreciated the film and thought it powerfully affecting.

What will always make me remember the experience however was the gentleman we sat next to. The theater was crowded (an interesting fact in itself and heartening for me). Arin and I had to squeeze past many seated patrons to find two seats together.

At the last seat before the pair we found, I stumbled, nudging a man who seemed to grunt with displeasure. Only once I was seated (one seat away from him, with Arin between us) did I notice that he was quite elderly, and wearing a neck brace. I apologized again for nudging him, and was filled with a dread that I may have actually caused him pain.

As the film progressed through the troubling story of the Chinese capital under siege by the Japanese army during World War Two, this elderly man was clearly experiencing an emotional reaction. It started with small sounds: sighs a moan. By the time the film reached the first-hand telling of a mother and child being killed, the man was openly weeping. During the stories of mass rape, he leaned foreword (in his hard plastic neck brace) crying harder. I though the might become physically ill.

I was one seat away from the man, with Arin between us, and she was also affected by the film and perhaps just as much to her proximity to the man. I saw that she was also weeping and began mimicking his movements (unconsciously, I imagine) rocking forward in her seat. Perhaps she even laid a hand on him to comfort him at one point.

What was this man’s experience that was brought back by this film? He was certainly old enough to be in the war (and in fact, we must have been the youngest people in that theater, with many people older than us by 30 years or more). Had he seen these atrocities, or analogous ones in Europe? Had he been a victim? A perpetrator?

What was our experience of this film and seeing it with (or next to) him? We never exchanged a word, but emotionally we were connected. How were we all affected? What is the meaning, the emotive potential, of sitting in the dark with strangers?