This is the week before a bit of a break. We have also gotten to the end of the first season and have begun the second.
Susan Quilty asks a similar question as was asked at the beginning of the course: "What constitutes personality? ... Can the total personality--the entire sense of self--really be removed and replaced at whim? Or does some unique piece of self remain in the body?" (133) Does the body keep in itself an inherent personality?
Season 1:
Caroline = central image
Echo = negative space
Season 2:
Echo emerges from negative space to be the central image
The point is that both of these entities are part of the same whole, recognized by change in focus. Quilty, though, seems to confuse these notions of difference in personality with notions of personality being inherent in the body. Later, she discusses the sense of self which Echo possesses, and the seeming sense of self (however slight) that the other actives possess in their doll state, sitting and eating together, for instance. This "instinctual level" is what Quilty suggests is "negative space."
Quilty suggests that love exists in this negative space, inseparable from the body. While I do find some of her arguments problematic, I do appreciate her final thoughts: "As Echo and one of the men discussed the paintings [in a museum vault in Episode 1.04], he commented, 'That's what art's for, to show us who we are.'" (144)
As per Hiromi and Da Silveira, is it only through narrative (or stories) that we understand the world?
A question I have here is, does cancellation work to make viewers perpetually uncomfortable, because the narrative ended without closure? In a way, I agree, but this discomfort brings pleasure. That is, closure closes the narrative; cancellation leaves the narrative open. Anyone who read any amount of Roland Barthes will understand that the latter is better.
I observed what they observed, that the second season moved too quickly (we can discuss this a bit more as we watch the second season in the coming weeks), but I'm not sure that cancellation works in the positive way they suggest. Allowing (or forcing) the closure of story arcs might provide closure, but doing so in a rushing manner doesn't seem to necessarily be a better way of doing things. Consider the fine example of Firefly, the other Whedon show cancelled after something like 11 episodes: closure did not happen (not even in the film Serenity, though perhaps the "closure" of certain storylines there was also rushed). This worked for Firefly; I want closure there, but I'm sort of happy that we are not getting it.
Again, I want it. But in wanting it there is some pleasure there. Barthes considers this in The Pleasure of the Text, in which he suggests the turning of pages to find out what happens next is most important, and pleasurable. It is in the turning of the page, not in the revelation of details, that we derive pleasure. (Don't quote me on this. It has been a bit since I read this book, so I might be quite off regarding Barthes' comments there. I think I do reflect Barthes accurately, but maybe not from that particular book.)
This week we watch Episode 13, which was not aired on television. What is your reaction to "Epitaph One"?
Note that next week is Reading Week. There will be no blog entry next week.
Monday, February 25, 2013
New Media - Cell Phones/Smart Phones
The reading can be found here.
I seem not to have notes for this week, which is strange. But I think I can still guide the discussion, however brief it might be.
First of all, what do you think of Shiga's paper? Discuss.
Second, do you have a cell phone or smart phone? What does it do for you?
Third, what do you see as the future of mobile technology?
That is all.
Note that next week is Reading Week. There will be no blog entry next week.
I seem not to have notes for this week, which is strange. But I think I can still guide the discussion, however brief it might be.
First of all, what do you think of Shiga's paper? Discuss.
Second, do you have a cell phone or smart phone? What does it do for you?
Third, what do you see as the future of mobile technology?
That is all.
Note that next week is Reading Week. There will be no blog entry next week.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Dollhouse - Week 5
We are almost at the end of the first season. Consider for next time making some sort of statement about the first season of the show.
Levinger begins with an interesting twist as an observation: “Echo wasn’t Caroline. Echo was Echo. Caroline was Echo.” (105) Her article begins with the assumption that the series was about the Dollhouse creating slaves without identity, tabula rasa robots that are unable to be their true selves. But is this truly the case? Is this not just part of the marketing of the series?
I wonder if Levinger is reading too much into (onto?) the character of Claire. I’m not sure we are ever privy to the actual Claire, and so I’m not sure we can really speak of a loss of identity, as well as any notion of low self-esteem, etc. Claire, or Whisky, is a tragic character overall. We will see her next week in the final (unaired) episode of season 1, but you might want to contribute a comment about that character at this point.
As an aside, there are problems with Rebecca Levinger’s essay, but considering she is a high school student (or was at the time of writing it), she should be commended.
How do Saunder’s scars function? I posit that they act as an element which creates enigma. They tease a questin: how did those scars get there? What damaged (beautiful) Claire’s face? Consider, though, what I suggested above, that Saunders is a tragic character overall. Can she also be heroic, as suggested by Klein?
Levinger begins with an interesting twist as an observation: “Echo wasn’t Caroline. Echo was Echo. Caroline was Echo.” (105) Her article begins with the assumption that the series was about the Dollhouse creating slaves without identity, tabula rasa robots that are unable to be their true selves. But is this truly the case? Is this not just part of the marketing of the series?
I wonder if Levinger is reading too much into (onto?) the character of Claire. I’m not sure we are ever privy to the actual Claire, and so I’m not sure we can really speak of a loss of identity, as well as any notion of low self-esteem, etc. Claire, or Whisky, is a tragic character overall. We will see her next week in the final (unaired) episode of season 1, but you might want to contribute a comment about that character at this point.
As an aside, there are problems with Rebecca Levinger’s essay, but considering she is a high school student (or was at the time of writing it), she should be commended.
How do Saunder’s scars function? I posit that they act as an element which creates enigma. They tease a questin: how did those scars get there? What damaged (beautiful) Claire’s face? Consider, though, what I suggested above, that Saunders is a tragic character overall. Can she also be heroic, as suggested by Klein?
New Media - Convergence of Media/Marketing Disney
This week's reading can be found here. I've decided to use an earlier version of the chapter originally suggested in the syllabus.
This week will focus primarily on the Disney Company. In the construction of the company, there is a merging, or converging, of media. Products market products; Disney products market other Disney products. Can you think of other companies that do this?
Some ways in which Disney cross promotes:
- television shows become parades at the Disney theme parks (High School Musical, for instance)
- movies become rides/movies sre integrated into existing rides (for instance, "Pirates of the Caribbean" was a ride which became a movie, elements of which were then integrated back into the ride)
- rides become movies (The Haunted Mansion)
- accessories (Mickey Mouse watches, for instance)
- costumes for youngsters
- vacations: 2 theme parks in the United States, 1 in Europe, 2, soon to be 3, in Asia
- cruise line
- entertainment becomes media for sale for home use
- the rarity of this media becomes a part of the experience (the notion of the “Disney Vault”)
From 2005-2008, Disney curated something called Disney VMK, or Virtual Magic Kingdom, an onlineenvironment similar to World of Warcraft. A player could collect prizes like virtual furniture for his or her online space, or costumes, or things like Mickey Mouse ice cream bars, items which exist in the real-life theme parks.
There is a continual loop of promotion. All areas of the company point to other areas, in terms of promotion.
What did you think of Pahl’s criticisms? The media-rich environment that Disney presents is interesting. I should be noted that there are various third-party additions to this kind of widespread promotion. These include:
- license holders (Walmart, Dollarama, etc.)
- fans (in the form of fan culture, podcasts, the D23 fan community, actually a first-party promoter)
- multiple television shows that are simply promotions for traveling to the parks
Is there a cultural identity which is worth preserving in the experience of Disney? Or is it too marred by consumerism?
Does the Disney worldview compete with Christianity?
Please note that your final paper needs to be 8 to 10 pages long, not 10 to 12 pages as it mentions in the syllabus.
This week will focus primarily on the Disney Company. In the construction of the company, there is a merging, or converging, of media. Products market products; Disney products market other Disney products. Can you think of other companies that do this?
Some ways in which Disney cross promotes:
- television shows become parades at the Disney theme parks (High School Musical, for instance)
- movies become rides/movies sre integrated into existing rides (for instance, "Pirates of the Caribbean" was a ride which became a movie, elements of which were then integrated back into the ride)
- rides become movies (The Haunted Mansion)
- accessories (Mickey Mouse watches, for instance)
- costumes for youngsters
- vacations: 2 theme parks in the United States, 1 in Europe, 2, soon to be 3, in Asia
- cruise line
- entertainment becomes media for sale for home use
- the rarity of this media becomes a part of the experience (the notion of the “Disney Vault”)
From 2005-2008, Disney curated something called Disney VMK, or Virtual Magic Kingdom, an onlineenvironment similar to World of Warcraft. A player could collect prizes like virtual furniture for his or her online space, or costumes, or things like Mickey Mouse ice cream bars, items which exist in the real-life theme parks.
There is a continual loop of promotion. All areas of the company point to other areas, in terms of promotion.
What did you think of Pahl’s criticisms? The media-rich environment that Disney presents is interesting. I should be noted that there are various third-party additions to this kind of widespread promotion. These include:
- license holders (Walmart, Dollarama, etc.)
- fans (in the form of fan culture, podcasts, the D23 fan community, actually a first-party promoter)
- multiple television shows that are simply promotions for traveling to the parks
Is there a cultural identity which is worth preserving in the experience of Disney? Or is it too marred by consumerism?
Does the Disney worldview compete with Christianity?
Please note that your final paper needs to be 8 to 10 pages long, not 10 to 12 pages as it mentions in the syllabus.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Whedon's Dollhouse - Week 4
We can begin this week's reflection on Dollhouse by asking the question, do you like Topher? Your answer might or might not agree with the answer that Zimmerman Jones found on the Internet early on in the first season might (the answer he found was no). Is it true that (so far) Topher doesn't care about the dolls? Is Topher amoral? Just so you know, I probably didn't think about this question much when I first watched the season, but I never really considered Topher amoral. I maybe didn't know how to read him, but I think the show as a whole is a bit difficult to read; maybe this is what to what Zimmerman Jones is referring when he writes about the "moral ambiguity of the whole situation," also known as "being difficult to read." (82) As per the arguments in this first article for this week, does the "imprinting technology idea [shift] from being morally reprehensible to being . . . morally justifiable"? (85)
Do you recognize the evolution or transformation of Topher Brink as suggested by this author? On p.90, the writer suggests that the tactic of violence would not have worked at the start of the series. What do you think? (I know that you might not have watched the whole series at this point, but perhaps you can still comment with knowledge of the first 10 episodes or so).
Another question might be asked in considering Mason's article: is Adelle an amoral character as well?
As an aside, I am interested by Mason's suggestion that the show could be boiled down to terms available to us from Whedon's other shows. So, Dollhouse is "in Firefly terms, what happened to River's brain, explored through the consequences of Inara's profession." (102) This assumes, though, that Inara acts toward River in the same way as Adelle toward Echo. Thoughts?
Finally, out of the two episodes from this week, which works best?
Do you recognize the evolution or transformation of Topher Brink as suggested by this author? On p.90, the writer suggests that the tactic of violence would not have worked at the start of the series. What do you think? (I know that you might not have watched the whole series at this point, but perhaps you can still comment with knowledge of the first 10 episodes or so).
Another question might be asked in considering Mason's article: is Adelle an amoral character as well?
As an aside, I am interested by Mason's suggestion that the show could be boiled down to terms available to us from Whedon's other shows. So, Dollhouse is "in Firefly terms, what happened to River's brain, explored through the consequences of Inara's profession." (102) This assumes, though, that Inara acts toward River in the same way as Adelle toward Echo. Thoughts?
Finally, out of the two episodes from this week, which works best?
Sunday, February 10, 2013
New Media - iPods and mp3 players
The readings can be found here and here.
I was once told that the iPod is a kind of drug, in that it causes the listener to achieve a state of euphoria or happiness, simply because each song is (potentially) a favourite. In other words, there are no mediocre songs on someone’s iPod. There is the potential that one will simply continue to listen to favourites throughout the day.
Michael Bull calls this kind of state a “zone of immunity,” to use Richard Sennett’s term for the place of the church in Western civilization.
“The church, in Sennett’s argument, created a zone of ‘immunity’ for the citizen, an ordered space in which the subject could feel secure. Today this zone of immunity and security is a mobile one existing between the ears of iPod users as they move through the city--enveloped in what they imagine to be their own reality, each holding Apple iPods--twenty-first century icon and acoustic metaphor for much urban life.” (Iconic Designs 108)
The interesting thing is that the design of the iPod has evolved over time. The key to the iPod's success is twofold. It is an issue of space, that one could now conceivably put their complete collection of music on something small enough to fit in their hand. It is also an issue of user interface, a way to access that music.
The scroll wheel is the key - first, the click wheel, a combination of moving parts and buttons. Next, touch sensitive, solid state, no more clicking or buttons. Finally, a combination of solid state touch sensitive and clicking for play/pause, next/back, etc. The interface becomes simpler for the user as it becomes more technologically complex.
The aesthetic design of the iPod is something which is often overlooked in terms of its allure. Many would talk about its domination in the marketplace, or the problems with its ties to specific software (iTunes). Not many discuss what I think is its main strength - its appearance. Its design is what draws me to it - its clean lines, the materials that make it up. The way it looks in the dark (the 3rd Gen iPod is what this last part is referring to).
Bull calls the iPod a “perfect marriage between aesthetics and functionality, of sound and touch--the auditory world in the palm of the hand.” (105) It comes to market at a time of increasing mobility and privatization - this is, in fact, not a new thing.
Bull seems to equate an iPod with the Gothic cathedral: “The populace invariably went into these spaces not merely to pray but to enter envelopes of sound resounding through their bodies, amplified by the great arches of the cathedral.” (106) Back to the iPod, now that people were free from the constraints of radio, those sonic envelopes “exist in the personal playlist of the iPod.” He also considers the idea of your whole music collection fitting in the palm of your hand a magical one. (107) This is interesting. This is something that was never possible in the past.
The iPod is, in fact, intoxicating: “an intoxicating mixture of music, proximity and privacy whilst on the move.” (No Dead Air 344) iPod users might use the device as a way to inhabit the spaces within which they move, a creation of a “privatised auditory bubble,” a means to control time and space through which they move.
Consider what Bull writes on the bottom of pg. 346.
As opposed to thinking that the iPod destroys community or creates isolation, Bull suggests that “music enables users to clear a space for thought, imagination and miid maintenance.” (349) For Bull, the choice of music by the listener enables a form of “biological travelling,” that the narrative of the listener’s life is recalled in the current space of travelling, thus making their journey one that is more personal.
“The world and their biography is recollected and accompanied by sound.” (349)
The world becomes “intimate, known, and possessed.” (350) - the world around them seem to work in tandem with the music (this isn’t actually happening, but it seems like it might magically be).
The city dweller is able to reorganise the sounds of the city. (352)
“the city becomes a personalised audio visual environment, yet even the sense of touch and the concomitant [naturally accompanying] relational experience of the street is transformed, invariably making the iPod user happier as they move, empowered through the street.” (352)
What do you think of Bull's idea of dancing through a crowd, instead of struggling? Does the iPod still hold such cultural cache as Bull suggested it did in 2005 and 2006?
I was once told that the iPod is a kind of drug, in that it causes the listener to achieve a state of euphoria or happiness, simply because each song is (potentially) a favourite. In other words, there are no mediocre songs on someone’s iPod. There is the potential that one will simply continue to listen to favourites throughout the day.
Michael Bull calls this kind of state a “zone of immunity,” to use Richard Sennett’s term for the place of the church in Western civilization.
“The church, in Sennett’s argument, created a zone of ‘immunity’ for the citizen, an ordered space in which the subject could feel secure. Today this zone of immunity and security is a mobile one existing between the ears of iPod users as they move through the city--enveloped in what they imagine to be their own reality, each holding Apple iPods--twenty-first century icon and acoustic metaphor for much urban life.” (Iconic Designs 108)
The interesting thing is that the design of the iPod has evolved over time. The key to the iPod's success is twofold. It is an issue of space, that one could now conceivably put their complete collection of music on something small enough to fit in their hand. It is also an issue of user interface, a way to access that music.
The scroll wheel is the key - first, the click wheel, a combination of moving parts and buttons. Next, touch sensitive, solid state, no more clicking or buttons. Finally, a combination of solid state touch sensitive and clicking for play/pause, next/back, etc. The interface becomes simpler for the user as it becomes more technologically complex.
The aesthetic design of the iPod is something which is often overlooked in terms of its allure. Many would talk about its domination in the marketplace, or the problems with its ties to specific software (iTunes). Not many discuss what I think is its main strength - its appearance. Its design is what draws me to it - its clean lines, the materials that make it up. The way it looks in the dark (the 3rd Gen iPod is what this last part is referring to).
Bull calls the iPod a “perfect marriage between aesthetics and functionality, of sound and touch--the auditory world in the palm of the hand.” (105) It comes to market at a time of increasing mobility and privatization - this is, in fact, not a new thing.
Bull seems to equate an iPod with the Gothic cathedral: “The populace invariably went into these spaces not merely to pray but to enter envelopes of sound resounding through their bodies, amplified by the great arches of the cathedral.” (106) Back to the iPod, now that people were free from the constraints of radio, those sonic envelopes “exist in the personal playlist of the iPod.” He also considers the idea of your whole music collection fitting in the palm of your hand a magical one. (107) This is interesting. This is something that was never possible in the past.
The iPod is, in fact, intoxicating: “an intoxicating mixture of music, proximity and privacy whilst on the move.” (No Dead Air 344) iPod users might use the device as a way to inhabit the spaces within which they move, a creation of a “privatised auditory bubble,” a means to control time and space through which they move.
Consider what Bull writes on the bottom of pg. 346.
As opposed to thinking that the iPod destroys community or creates isolation, Bull suggests that “music enables users to clear a space for thought, imagination and miid maintenance.” (349) For Bull, the choice of music by the listener enables a form of “biological travelling,” that the narrative of the listener’s life is recalled in the current space of travelling, thus making their journey one that is more personal.
“The world and their biography is recollected and accompanied by sound.” (349)
The world becomes “intimate, known, and possessed.” (350) - the world around them seem to work in tandem with the music (this isn’t actually happening, but it seems like it might magically be).
The city dweller is able to reorganise the sounds of the city. (352)
“the city becomes a personalised audio visual environment, yet even the sense of touch and the concomitant [naturally accompanying] relational experience of the street is transformed, invariably making the iPod user happier as they move, empowered through the street.” (352)
What do you think of Bull's idea of dancing through a crowd, instead of struggling? Does the iPod still hold such cultural cache as Bull suggested it did in 2005 and 2006?
Monday, February 04, 2013
Dollhouse - Week 3
In reading Tupper's article on the Gothic in Dollhouse, I came across an absolutely funny description of the Dollhouse itself: "a slightly sinister dayspa." (51) I'm not sure why I found that so funny, but I did. It seems that it betrays something of the series: that it is simply too dark of a premise to work at all. The setting is just a strange symptom of it simply being off. That's why the setting is not particularly threatening. So, while this might be true (that the show doesn't work, fundamentally), I think, rather, that the show works in spite of its darkness. It forces us to watch, knowing that it is too difficult of a show for prime time television. Comments?
Do you think that the notion of enigma is at work in the show? If so, what does it accomplish?
So, if Dollhouse subverts the gothic, is it a new gothic? What exaclty is it? (hint: there isn't really a right or wrong answer to many of these questions, in case you didn't guess - I don't know the answers myself).
Is Dollhouse a fairy tale?
Finally, which of these three episodes is most effective and why?
Do you think that the notion of enigma is at work in the show? If so, what does it accomplish?
So, if Dollhouse subverts the gothic, is it a new gothic? What exaclty is it? (hint: there isn't really a right or wrong answer to many of these questions, in case you didn't guess - I don't know the answers myself).
Is Dollhouse a fairy tale?
Finally, which of these three episodes is most effective and why?
New Media - MP3s and Mashups
You can find the reading here.
How does Shiga define "mash-ups"? Is this phenomenon due to the easily-sharable music file (mp3 or variant), or did it exist before that? What contributes to its existence?
Do you have a favourite mash-up?
Finally, what happens in the future? Are mash-ups finished now? (Perhaps they have been for a few years)
That's all - I know there isn't much this week, but that is alright. The reading is not the easiest either, so that's that.
How does Shiga define "mash-ups"? Is this phenomenon due to the easily-sharable music file (mp3 or variant), or did it exist before that? What contributes to its existence?
Do you have a favourite mash-up?
Finally, what happens in the future? Are mash-ups finished now? (Perhaps they have been for a few years)
That's all - I know there isn't much this week, but that is alright. The reading is not the easiest either, so that's that.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Dollhouse - Week 2
Does the episode “True Believer” argue anything about the nature of religion? Is Dushku a believable blind woman in this episode? Is everything physiological (or is it, is everything psychological)? That is, is everything of ourselves able to be controlled psychologically (or physiologically)?
Is it important for us to understand the significance of a name like “Rossum” and its origins (if this is actually its origins)? I suppose that we must also consider the use of any sort of “compare and contrast” exercise as well, though that is perhaps beyond the scope of this current study. Feel free to comment anyway, should you wish.
As Alvi points put, Dollhouse is an interesting series in the Whedon oeuvre, precisely because the Davids therein are well-entrenched in the Goliath of Rossum. And that is what makes the show so difficult for some viewers, I think: viewers are introduced to protagonists that are actually antagonists. Alvi also suggests that Goliath wins in Dollhouse, at least for a time.
Please comment.
Is it important for us to understand the significance of a name like “Rossum” and its origins (if this is actually its origins)? I suppose that we must also consider the use of any sort of “compare and contrast” exercise as well, though that is perhaps beyond the scope of this current study. Feel free to comment anyway, should you wish.
As Alvi points put, Dollhouse is an interesting series in the Whedon oeuvre, precisely because the Davids therein are well-entrenched in the Goliath of Rossum. And that is what makes the show so difficult for some viewers, I think: viewers are introduced to protagonists that are actually antagonists. Alvi also suggests that Goliath wins in Dollhouse, at least for a time.
Please comment.
New Media - Print and its transformation
Readings for this week available here.
For fun, consider this. Brainstorm about a new magazine. What is the title, audience, layout, theme? Glossy paper? Is it a “Christian” magazine? Will you try to have a very large internet presence or not? What is a good price point? Will you start off with a large print run or not? Or will you forgo print altogether?
This week we ask the following questions: What will publishing look like in the future? Is there a future in the book?
Why is print media in trouble?
1) consumers want a rich media experience, delivered the instant they are relevant,
2) ad agencies are becoming accustomed to high standards of accountability (stats regarding page views, etc, that are available on the Internet),
3) high prices of gas, as well as high costs in the inefficient running of various levels of the publishing process,
4) issues regarding the environment and the use of natural resources.
What is the solution:
1) liquid content - content that can be delivered on any medium,
2) a relationship with customers which is more than 1-way delivery of information (interactivity).
Agree?
Can you think of ebook solutions which have been able to overcome the need for the physical experience of reading books?
Some ereaders work with tiny charged particles, which are black on one side and white on the other. It very much replicates the look of paper.
“When an electric field is applied across an area of this thin sheet of frontplane material, the pigment particles within the microcapsules move in opposite directions, turning one side of the capsules in the area exposed to the electric field white, the other black. Reversing the polarity of the field makes the particles move in the opposite direction, and the white becomes black and the black becomes white.” (Hampshire 31)
This technology is promoted with the claim of little or no eyestrain, and can be looked at in all lighting conditions (except, of course, no light), and uses very little electricity, only required when a page is turned (eg. Amazon Kindle - no backlight, also similar to paper, but perhaps clumsy to work with).
“Paper-based periodicals that do persevere in North America and Europe will do so on a much smaller scale as the stylepress: physically and aesthetically engaging, vibrant creative chroniclers of trends. These will be the last printed magazines.” (Reynard 15)
"Stylepress" is a high-end medium (ie. expensive to produce and buy) which fuses the ephemeral periodical and the longsuffering book. “Such magazines are not produced; they are lived.” (Jan-Willem Dikkers, publisher of Issue magazine)
Is this a bit of an extreme view? Why should the stylepress survive?
Finally, these readings are from 2006. How has the future (2013) turned out?
PW, you will note that there is a New Media Review requirement on the syllabus, but no due date. It is due on March 11. (Anyone else reading can disregard this note - there is no assignment due for you)
For fun, consider this. Brainstorm about a new magazine. What is the title, audience, layout, theme? Glossy paper? Is it a “Christian” magazine? Will you try to have a very large internet presence or not? What is a good price point? Will you start off with a large print run or not? Or will you forgo print altogether?
This week we ask the following questions: What will publishing look like in the future? Is there a future in the book?
Why is print media in trouble?
1) consumers want a rich media experience, delivered the instant they are relevant,
2) ad agencies are becoming accustomed to high standards of accountability (stats regarding page views, etc, that are available on the Internet),
3) high prices of gas, as well as high costs in the inefficient running of various levels of the publishing process,
4) issues regarding the environment and the use of natural resources.
What is the solution:
1) liquid content - content that can be delivered on any medium,
2) a relationship with customers which is more than 1-way delivery of information (interactivity).
Agree?
Can you think of ebook solutions which have been able to overcome the need for the physical experience of reading books?
Some ereaders work with tiny charged particles, which are black on one side and white on the other. It very much replicates the look of paper.
“When an electric field is applied across an area of this thin sheet of frontplane material, the pigment particles within the microcapsules move in opposite directions, turning one side of the capsules in the area exposed to the electric field white, the other black. Reversing the polarity of the field makes the particles move in the opposite direction, and the white becomes black and the black becomes white.” (Hampshire 31)
This technology is promoted with the claim of little or no eyestrain, and can be looked at in all lighting conditions (except, of course, no light), and uses very little electricity, only required when a page is turned (eg. Amazon Kindle - no backlight, also similar to paper, but perhaps clumsy to work with).
“Paper-based periodicals that do persevere in North America and Europe will do so on a much smaller scale as the stylepress: physically and aesthetically engaging, vibrant creative chroniclers of trends. These will be the last printed magazines.” (Reynard 15)
"Stylepress" is a high-end medium (ie. expensive to produce and buy) which fuses the ephemeral periodical and the longsuffering book. “Such magazines are not produced; they are lived.” (Jan-Willem Dikkers, publisher of Issue magazine)
Is this a bit of an extreme view? Why should the stylepress survive?
Finally, these readings are from 2006. How has the future (2013) turned out?
PW, you will note that there is a New Media Review requirement on the syllabus, but no due date. It is due on March 11. (Anyone else reading can disregard this note - there is no assignment due for you)
Monday, January 21, 2013
Whedon's Dollhouse - Week 1
This is a short post, as the readings are not particularly dense (though Rennebohm's essay does touch on particularly complex and difficult issues).
From the television series Angel: "If there's no great glorious end to all of this, if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. 'Cause that's all there is: what we do now, today."
Do you agree that this is what the show is about, at least at this early stage?
"the unique, specific human body is an integral aspect of identity, not to be forgotten or left behind." (8)
Yes or no? Explain. How much of our identity comes from our human body?
"Identity exists in this moment." What do you think of this?
Is it true that our identity is quite different apart from our physical bodies? Can our identity exist without the physical body? These are not easy questions, and are ones that touch upon theologies and eschatological musings. In any case, I look forward to your responses.
Finally, which of the three episodes for this week worked well, and which did not? Why?
From the television series Angel: "If there's no great glorious end to all of this, if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. 'Cause that's all there is: what we do now, today."
Do you agree that this is what the show is about, at least at this early stage?
"the unique, specific human body is an integral aspect of identity, not to be forgotten or left behind." (8)
Yes or no? Explain. How much of our identity comes from our human body?
"Identity exists in this moment." What do you think of this?
Is it true that our identity is quite different apart from our physical bodies? Can our identity exist without the physical body? These are not easy questions, and are ones that touch upon theologies and eschatological musings. In any case, I look forward to your responses.
Finally, which of the three episodes for this week worked well, and which did not? Why?
New Media - Blogs
This is the beginning of a directed study on New Media (a very open and general kind of descriptor for what we'll be talking about). I will link to an article (or two) and then pose a few ideas or questions for consideration. So, let's begin the discussion on blogs.
We can begin by asking a few questions (that don't necessarily need to be answered here):
What is “new media”? What is “old media”?
In his forward to the book edited by Quentin J. Schultze and Robert H. Woods Jr., entitled, Understanding Evangelical Media: The Changing Face of Christian Communication (Downers Grove, Ill: IVP Academic, 2008), Clifford Christians states, “The discussion of media technologies—radio, film, books, internet, gaming and the rest—are a venue for the permanent questions about our place in the universe.” (Schultze, 8)
Schultze begins to describe new media: “The idea of mass media has been replaced by networked media. Narrowcasting has replaced broadcasting. Media power has become democratized; low-cost digital production lets younger evangelicals tell stories in multiple venues.” (Schultze, 15)
Narrowcasting can be defined as the dissemination of information to a specific audience (also called niche marketing). It presupposes that there is no such thing as a mass audience.
Podcasts are a type of narrowcast, since they are generally targeted towards a specific sharply-defined audience. Just a note regarding Apple and the podcast - it doesn’t really come from the term "iPod," but it became synonymous with it.
Advertising can be thought of narrowcasting, a kind of persuasion, an attempt to make us think a certain way. It moves in one direction, towards the audience, attempting to sway the consumer is a particular direction.
What about some of the opinions that we have, some that might be coaxed along by narrowcasting, that we hold without firsthand experience? Why do we hold these kinds of opinions and how do we develop them?
Schultze states, “we are inclined to use communication, including media, to support our existing views of reality. We pick and choose media according to what we want, what we enjoy, what we like to discuss with others. For instance, Christian contemporary music fans download more of it than do the music’s detractors. We use media to mediate our experience of reality in tune with our interests and desires, even our religious beliefs. If we don’t like U2 or Amy Grant, we spend time with friends who share our criticisms. We like to know that we have got it right, even self-righteously so!” (Schultze 20)
“those shared definitions of reality function like shared maps that help us navigate life by making judgments about faith and culture, including popular culture.” (Schultze 20)
Take a look at this article: Qian, Hua and Craig R. Scott. “Anonymity and Self-Disclosure in Weblogs.” Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication 12:4 (2007).
What are the authors' points in the article? Do you agree or disagree?
Also, take a look at the following blog posting, which suggests how to write good blog postings. Is this useful?
Finally, are blogs now a thing of the past? If so, what has replaced them? If not, how long will they last?
We can begin by asking a few questions (that don't necessarily need to be answered here):
What is “new media”? What is “old media”?
In his forward to the book edited by Quentin J. Schultze and Robert H. Woods Jr., entitled, Understanding Evangelical Media: The Changing Face of Christian Communication (Downers Grove, Ill: IVP Academic, 2008), Clifford Christians states, “The discussion of media technologies—radio, film, books, internet, gaming and the rest—are a venue for the permanent questions about our place in the universe.” (Schultze, 8)
Schultze begins to describe new media: “The idea of mass media has been replaced by networked media. Narrowcasting has replaced broadcasting. Media power has become democratized; low-cost digital production lets younger evangelicals tell stories in multiple venues.” (Schultze, 15)
Narrowcasting can be defined as the dissemination of information to a specific audience (also called niche marketing). It presupposes that there is no such thing as a mass audience.
Podcasts are a type of narrowcast, since they are generally targeted towards a specific sharply-defined audience. Just a note regarding Apple and the podcast - it doesn’t really come from the term "iPod," but it became synonymous with it.
Advertising can be thought of narrowcasting, a kind of persuasion, an attempt to make us think a certain way. It moves in one direction, towards the audience, attempting to sway the consumer is a particular direction.
What about some of the opinions that we have, some that might be coaxed along by narrowcasting, that we hold without firsthand experience? Why do we hold these kinds of opinions and how do we develop them?
Schultze states, “we are inclined to use communication, including media, to support our existing views of reality. We pick and choose media according to what we want, what we enjoy, what we like to discuss with others. For instance, Christian contemporary music fans download more of it than do the music’s detractors. We use media to mediate our experience of reality in tune with our interests and desires, even our religious beliefs. If we don’t like U2 or Amy Grant, we spend time with friends who share our criticisms. We like to know that we have got it right, even self-righteously so!” (Schultze 20)
“those shared definitions of reality function like shared maps that help us navigate life by making judgments about faith and culture, including popular culture.” (Schultze 20)
Take a look at this article: Qian, Hua and Craig R. Scott. “Anonymity and Self-Disclosure in Weblogs.” Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication 12:4 (2007).
What are the authors' points in the article? Do you agree or disagree?
Also, take a look at the following blog posting, which suggests how to write good blog postings. Is this useful?
Finally, are blogs now a thing of the past? If so, what has replaced them? If not, how long will they last?
Sunday, December 02, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes pp.168-188
Here are a few brief words on the end of Barthes' book, Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes ... by Roland Barthes.
Isn't this interesting?: "I would be nothing if I didn't write. Yet I am elsewhere than where I am when I write. I am worth more than what I write." He adds that these ideas are outdated. This is sad; these seem to be worthwhile. (169)
Oh, to be in Barthes' seminar; it would be like being in a train compartment with him - somewhat horrific (see pg. 171).
He lists more "new books" on p.173 and suggests that this book is informed by "the Linguistics of Value."
The second full paragraph on p.174 is an excellent description of procrastination. We certainly understand Barthes' humanity, but we also see something of his "depression" here).
"Dilatory" is a term he uses elsewhere. From the Apple built-in dictionary:
Isn't this interesting?: "I would be nothing if I didn't write. Yet I am elsewhere than where I am when I write. I am worth more than what I write." He adds that these ideas are outdated. This is sad; these seem to be worthwhile. (169)
Oh, to be in Barthes' seminar; it would be like being in a train compartment with him - somewhat horrific (see pg. 171).
He lists more "new books" on p.173 and suggests that this book is informed by "the Linguistics of Value."
The second full paragraph on p.174 is an excellent description of procrastination. We certainly understand Barthes' humanity, but we also see something of his "depression" here).
"Dilatory" is a term he uses elsewhere. From the Apple built-in dictionary:
slow to act: he had been dilatory in appointing a solicitor.This is quite the work, markedly different from his later Camera Lucida. But if the latter book can be thought of as a kind of eulogy for his mother, the present book seems a eulogy for Roland Barthes himself.
intended to cause delay: they resorted to dilatory procedural tactics, forcing a postponement of peace talks.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes pp. 145-167
This is the second to last section of the book. It continues to be particularly enjoyable (though perhaps difficult to apply to the current project, P.W.). In any case, we continue.
"One makes oneself intelligible" through categorization. In this case, Barthes divides his writing into phases, the last of which he calls "morality": "it is the thinking of the body in a state of language." (145)
He really resists meaning, which is a curious thought for those in communications studies, where meaning really is important (see his note on order on pg. 148).
A note: a collection of 4 essays was published posthumously as Incidents, probably not what he was intending (available for free from the University of California Press here, by the way).
Here is more of Barthes' "anti-meaning": "one dares not leave the fact in a state of in-significance; this is the movement of fable, which draws from each fragment of reality a lesson, a meaning." (151)
What a great story: he suggests that, at some level, he worries about a slight discolouration of the tongue, for the sole reason of being able to use the term "excoriation" (definition from the Apple dictionary: "damage or remove part of the surface of (the skin).") (152)
Another note: none of his books is "successful throughout," except, perhaps, The Empire of Signs (on Japan). (156)
Great section: "Choosing Clothes" on pg. 156 (now I'm writing in fragments).
The section entitled "Academic Exercise" on pg. 158 would make quite a final exam. And the Lord help anyone who might have had the (mis)fortune of sitting in a train compartment with Barthes (see the section called "A Projected Book on Sexuality" on pg. 164).
"One makes oneself intelligible" through categorization. In this case, Barthes divides his writing into phases, the last of which he calls "morality": "it is the thinking of the body in a state of language." (145)
He really resists meaning, which is a curious thought for those in communications studies, where meaning really is important (see his note on order on pg. 148).
A note: a collection of 4 essays was published posthumously as Incidents, probably not what he was intending (available for free from the University of California Press here, by the way).
Here is more of Barthes' "anti-meaning": "one dares not leave the fact in a state of in-significance; this is the movement of fable, which draws from each fragment of reality a lesson, a meaning." (151)
What a great story: he suggests that, at some level, he worries about a slight discolouration of the tongue, for the sole reason of being able to use the term "excoriation" (definition from the Apple dictionary: "damage or remove part of the surface of (the skin).") (152)
Another note: none of his books is "successful throughout," except, perhaps, The Empire of Signs (on Japan). (156)
Great section: "Choosing Clothes" on pg. 156 (now I'm writing in fragments).
The section entitled "Academic Exercise" on pg. 158 would make quite a final exam. And the Lord help anyone who might have had the (mis)fortune of sitting in a train compartment with Barthes (see the section called "A Projected Book on Sexuality" on pg. 164).
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes pp.113-144
Here we have less writing by this humble commentator than last time probably. Well, take what you can get, I suppose.
While I recognize Barthes' frustrations in much of his language here (his distaste for other languages--though he learned English in school), I do like how he lists his likes and dislikes (on 116-117) and then states, plainly, that "this is of no importance to anyone," that it has no meaning. (117) But of course things mean (especially to the, or at least this, reader).
An interesting though: "what I write about myself is never the last word: the more 'sincere' I am, the more interpretable I am." (120) I should mention that, if Camera Lucida was a kind of eulogy for Barthes' mother, it seems almost as if this book is a kind of eulogy for Barthes himself.
Barthes was unfashionable. (125) As an aside, the remaining members of the band Queen said a similar thing about themselves (throughout the band's career) in a 2011 BBC documentary I watched this week.
A thought: if writing constantly risks being vulgar (because it supposes certain effects of discourse, what of photography? "The imaginary grasped" by photography, as by writing, does it also "grimace"? What do you think this might mean? What does Barthes think about photography, then? (126)
The Neutral is a "back-and-forth, an amoral oscillation." (132) (Is it "willy-nilly," then?) He reveals here that The Neutral is not a "third term" (a kind of pseudo-synthesis, if you will) but rather "at another link of the infinite chain of language," that is, a constant second term, of course, leading to more. (132-133)
Another note related to the one above: am I correct in understanding that sleep (or, specifically, taking a nap at a bar) is the third term to "speaking/keeping silent"? (142)
The difficulty remains high with some of these fragments; his playfulness is highly evident though (though he seems to deny its presence).
While I recognize Barthes' frustrations in much of his language here (his distaste for other languages--though he learned English in school), I do like how he lists his likes and dislikes (on 116-117) and then states, plainly, that "this is of no importance to anyone," that it has no meaning. (117) But of course things mean (especially to the, or at least this, reader).
An interesting though: "what I write about myself is never the last word: the more 'sincere' I am, the more interpretable I am." (120) I should mention that, if Camera Lucida was a kind of eulogy for Barthes' mother, it seems almost as if this book is a kind of eulogy for Barthes himself.
Barthes was unfashionable. (125) As an aside, the remaining members of the band Queen said a similar thing about themselves (throughout the band's career) in a 2011 BBC documentary I watched this week.
A thought: if writing constantly risks being vulgar (because it supposes certain effects of discourse, what of photography? "The imaginary grasped" by photography, as by writing, does it also "grimace"? What do you think this might mean? What does Barthes think about photography, then? (126)
The Neutral is a "back-and-forth, an amoral oscillation." (132) (Is it "willy-nilly," then?) He reveals here that The Neutral is not a "third term" (a kind of pseudo-synthesis, if you will) but rather "at another link of the infinite chain of language," that is, a constant second term, of course, leading to more. (132-133)
Another note related to the one above: am I correct in understanding that sleep (or, specifically, taking a nap at a bar) is the third term to "speaking/keeping silent"? (142)
The difficulty remains high with some of these fragments; his playfulness is highly evident though (though he seems to deny its presence).
Monday, November 12, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes pp.75-112
On to the next section: Barthes begins to discuss writing. He moves then from writing to language itself. And he acknowledges the difficulty in his work: "He realizes then how obscure such statements, clear as they are to hum, must be for many others." (80)
"You constitute yourself": Barthes is speaking to himself here, and he precedes this statement with "worse still." (82) To be fixed seems not the ideal state for Barthes, and the account of his schedule does this to him (as does the book itself, no?). What, then, of photography? Does it also constitute the subject?
He speaks of film in a way that can be applied to photography: "here the image is the irremediable absence of the represented body." (84) irremediable = untreatable, incurable.
Note to self: he mentions "post-meaning" on p.87 - the absence of every sign.
He continues and accounts the practice of fragments (92-94). "One writes in order to be loved": another phrase destined for a t-shirt or Facebook status update. (104)
We see much of Barthes as a person in these sections (for instance, his afternoon snack of sugar in cold milk - I'm going to try this today in honour); these are personal images, but the fragments do not absolutely constitute the writer. We don't really know him. He is too slippery here (he talks a lot about the "drift" of writing - like a ghost, he drifts here as well).
I found this section quicker to read, maybe because I found (today, now) less to write down, less directly applicable to our discussions (on photography, or on less complex ideas in Barthes' oeuvre).
In any case, your mileage may vary.
"You constitute yourself": Barthes is speaking to himself here, and he precedes this statement with "worse still." (82) To be fixed seems not the ideal state for Barthes, and the account of his schedule does this to him (as does the book itself, no?). What, then, of photography? Does it also constitute the subject?
He speaks of film in a way that can be applied to photography: "here the image is the irremediable absence of the represented body." (84) irremediable = untreatable, incurable.
Note to self: he mentions "post-meaning" on p.87 - the absence of every sign.
He continues and accounts the practice of fragments (92-94). "One writes in order to be loved": another phrase destined for a t-shirt or Facebook status update. (104)
We see much of Barthes as a person in these sections (for instance, his afternoon snack of sugar in cold milk - I'm going to try this today in honour); these are personal images, but the fragments do not absolutely constitute the writer. We don't really know him. He is too slippery here (he talks a lot about the "drift" of writing - like a ghost, he drifts here as well).
I found this section quicker to read, maybe because I found (today, now) less to write down, less directly applicable to our discussions (on photography, or on less complex ideas in Barthes' oeuvre).
In any case, your mileage may vary.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Max Headroom useless information
I was looking through my computer files and found one from a bit of time ago. This file was created quite a while ago (it was originally a WordPerfect 6.0 for DOS file, but it might have started out as a WP5.1 file). In any case, it is a lot of useless information about Max Headroom. I'm not sure I need to keep it at this point in my life (I did have a ball pausing my cloudy videotapes in order to make out particular numbers on the screens or whatever). So, I'm inserting it here. Enjoy!
C:\gecko\misc\maxhead.wpd
Max Headroom: an artificial intelligence created by Bryce Lynch for the purpose of finding out how much Edison Carter knew about the Blipvert project in episode 1. Max originated from a download of Carter’s mind, and now roams the world-wide communications network at will. He is immensely popular and is a major ratings bringer for Network 23. Max believes that everything in the real world is just a television show. The name comes from the last image Edison Carter saw before losing consciousness in episode one, the maximum headroom warning on an underground parking garage gate.
Zik-Zak Corporation: motto - “know future”, major client of Network 23. Chairman is Ped Xing, and has base of operations in New Tokyo (when conversing with Network 23, they use Sat/Link 87-R, and sattelite 1b “Skycounsel” scrambler/descrambler 19 in episode 3). The corporation has been interested in Raking, with the thought of marketing the sport and building tracks, etc. (Ep. 2). They were also interested in purchasing the services of Max Headroom as well (ep. 3).
Mr. Kioko: analyst for the Zik-Zak corporation.
Gorrister: Edison Carter’s controller, killed; body taken to Nightingale’s by Breugle and Mahler (episode 1)
Murray: producer of Edison Carter show, used to be a reporter, and was once a controller as well (although not a very good one).
Edison Carter: host of “What I want to know” Show, satellites globally in prime time, personal identification code #7-4928B-DG-6629 (in episode 2, the G seems to be replaced by a 9). His identification number in the Security Systems computers is 5671KB (ep.4). He is 27 years old (ep. 3). He is 6'2". His neighbour is Mr. Reevis.
Martinez: helicopter pilot for Edison Carter (chopper 7). The chopper callsign for their Sybaris landing in ep.3 is Lewis 23.
Gladys Mcwilliams: wife of Stu (no children, unemployed, doesn’t vote, civil disability), man who exploded watching a Zik-Zak blipvert; lives in unit 019 of apartment complex 142zeta (episode 1)
Network list:
Network 23 - top network (located in section 5, area 23). It employs 9870 people and has a monthy expenditure of $6.7 million. The 208-210 floors of the Network 23 building are restricted access. The board room is located on level 148.
Pulsart TV
Flanel 25
Bimboviz
Big Time: a 500-watt station run by Blank Reg and Domonique. Reg knows everyone in the Fringes. Big Time is guarded by Fang, their dog.
Television programs:
Missile Mike: very popular children’s show
Lumpy’s Prolotariot
Raking: “sport of kids”; race game involving betting, and consisting of kids on motorized skateboards, with accidents being refined as aggression. Teams include the Scorpions and Vipers.
Scumball: biggest televised sport
Vidicam unit:
Vidiphone:
Daytime Control: located on 40th floor; Murray is the producer
Night Control: extension 1987
2-way sampler:
Network 23 Rolling Databank: a collector of information on all the day-to-day runnings of the network. The file for the Edison Carter Show has the code 46CCW-9201-HAL-14.
Vidident: a computer program used in ep. 3 to identify suspects. It is accessed on Net 23 subterminal 171086. The program accesses the Diogenes Mainframe, and personality templates. The program used is vers 2.01 Rev A
Voice print Analyzer: like an audio lie detector, integrity is measured in percentages.
ICE: refers to security around a computer system. The ICE around the SS mainframe, A-7, is a Buss Guard Structure.
Locations:
Locomotive road: road in fringes in episode 2.
Fringes: outskirts of the city where the less-fortunate or criminal element reside; people eat rats there (ep. 2). In the Fringes, justice is cashflow.
Ned Grossberg: one-time chairman of Network 23
Bryce Lynch: head of Network 23's Research & Development (on 13th floor); birthdate is Oct 7, 1988 (Libra) [126RD]. (Door code for R&D in episode 1 is IJ2FI; a code which is associated with Lynch often)
Blipvertisement: concept developed by Bryce Lynch (called Project X-LN247) where a 30s ad is compressed into 3s, to stop potential channel switching.
Computer generated people program: program developed by Bryce Lynch that created the parrot in episode 1, and went on to create Max Headroom.
Ben Cheviot: Network 23 executive board member, and chairman after Grossberg’s departure. Clearance code is CT0011.
Edwards: Network 23 executive board member; Ratings analyst
Theora Jones: best controller available (previously worked for World1). Father unknown; mother deceased; 12 years spent in state homes. In episode 2, she receives a call on line 74, and her input code is THEO-274-GGF.
Shawn Jones: Theora’s brother, raker known as Ace; occupation as a busboy in “The Fresh Start” restaurant (fired in episode 2 - and where a drink called a Blizzard costs 2.18 Kredits), lives at Metroprojects Block 555/A with girlfriend Winnie and child.
Metropolice [metrocops]: police & security force
Casualty supervisor: possibly a city official consulted about the location of injured people.
Breugle & Mahler: hoods, may have killed Gorrister in Episode 1. Mahler is the muscle of the two.
David: employee of control, takes over as Edison’s controller briefly in episode 2.
Stanley: employee of Network 23 (possibly a janitor).
Terry: employee of control.
Jack: Net 23 employee greeted by Theora in Ep. 3.
Jack Friday: head of Network 23 sports, on floor 85.
Simon Peller: politician sponsered by Network 23; thinks of legalizing the sport Raking until he finds out what it is all about.
Miss Julia Fornby: Network 23 executive board member; coordinator of research and development. She agrees to steal the Max Headroom program for the Mother, a very rich and powerful (and dying) woman in episode 3. She had an affair with Cheviot. She may also be a PR person for the network.
Ashwell: Network 23 executive board member.
Grace: Rick’s bodyguard at the Ouza Bar in episode 2.
Rick: “be nice to animals” He is a blank, and knows many people. He is a friend of Reg and Edison Carter. He is a Rickshaw driver.
Poncho: a woman in the Fringes who is a friend of Reg.
Mel & Rayna: boyfriend and girlfriend from the River, that come to the city to sell blood at the body bank. They are blanks. Rayna is abducted for the use of her pituitary for the Mother. Rayna’s Type is 86.2.
Valerie Towne: C.E.O. of Security Systems Inc., lives on the 23rd floor of Sybaris.
Security Systems Inc.: largest and most powerful corporation of its kind in the world; has access to more priviledged information than any government, and their power reaches into government, homes, police, and the courts. SS is administered by A-7, a mainframe on level 7 of their headquarters, the Citadel. In ep. 4, Valerie Towne fabricated a buy-out scenario to push up the price of SS stock, to gain a world monopoly on security.
Nightingale’s Body Bank (open 24 hours): Florence, proprietor.
Dr. Mason: a surgeon at Nightingale’s.
Dr. Moon: a colleague of Fornby and head of the Transplantation project for the Mother.
Edie: doctor at Nightingale’s
Pantagenate: the head of Nightingale’s
Metro Tax Bureau: or Tax data centre, burns in episode 2, by torcher “all heated up over new TV tax”.
Ouza Bar: Carter visits this establishment in episode 2, and meets Rick there.
Caligula’s: a Fringe bar frequented by Breugle and Mahler.
Sybaris: condominium complex for the rich. The Mother, an old and dying woman, owns a whole floor in ep. 3 (the door code for that floor is 506274). Sybaris security are authorized by code 69B to use deadly force.
Miscellaneous:
News items 20 min in the future: Missile missing from AKG, Man sings whole of Shakespeare, Assassination of medic team in Bolivia, Nuclear submarine explodes.
Containment System R-7: the city is built on this radioactive site.
Human inaliable rights 20 min into the future: consumer credit, unlimited television, personal security.
Credit fraud is a worse crime than murder.
C:\gecko\misc\maxhead.wpd
Max Headroom: an artificial intelligence created by Bryce Lynch for the purpose of finding out how much Edison Carter knew about the Blipvert project in episode 1. Max originated from a download of Carter’s mind, and now roams the world-wide communications network at will. He is immensely popular and is a major ratings bringer for Network 23. Max believes that everything in the real world is just a television show. The name comes from the last image Edison Carter saw before losing consciousness in episode one, the maximum headroom warning on an underground parking garage gate.
Zik-Zak Corporation: motto - “know future”, major client of Network 23. Chairman is Ped Xing, and has base of operations in New Tokyo (when conversing with Network 23, they use Sat/Link 87-R, and sattelite 1b “Skycounsel” scrambler/descrambler 19 in episode 3). The corporation has been interested in Raking, with the thought of marketing the sport and building tracks, etc. (Ep. 2). They were also interested in purchasing the services of Max Headroom as well (ep. 3).
Mr. Kioko: analyst for the Zik-Zak corporation.
Gorrister: Edison Carter’s controller, killed; body taken to Nightingale’s by Breugle and Mahler (episode 1)
Murray: producer of Edison Carter show, used to be a reporter, and was once a controller as well (although not a very good one).
Edison Carter: host of “What I want to know” Show, satellites globally in prime time, personal identification code #7-4928B-DG-6629 (in episode 2, the G seems to be replaced by a 9). His identification number in the Security Systems computers is 5671KB (ep.4). He is 27 years old (ep. 3). He is 6'2". His neighbour is Mr. Reevis.
Martinez: helicopter pilot for Edison Carter (chopper 7). The chopper callsign for their Sybaris landing in ep.3 is Lewis 23.
Gladys Mcwilliams: wife of Stu (no children, unemployed, doesn’t vote, civil disability), man who exploded watching a Zik-Zak blipvert; lives in unit 019 of apartment complex 142zeta (episode 1)
Network list:
Network 23 - top network (located in section 5, area 23). It employs 9870 people and has a monthy expenditure of $6.7 million. The 208-210 floors of the Network 23 building are restricted access. The board room is located on level 148.
Pulsart TV
Flanel 25
Bimboviz
Big Time: a 500-watt station run by Blank Reg and Domonique. Reg knows everyone in the Fringes. Big Time is guarded by Fang, their dog.
Television programs:
Missile Mike: very popular children’s show
Lumpy’s Prolotariot
Raking: “sport of kids”; race game involving betting, and consisting of kids on motorized skateboards, with accidents being refined as aggression. Teams include the Scorpions and Vipers.
Scumball: biggest televised sport
Vidicam unit:
Vidiphone:
Daytime Control: located on 40th floor; Murray is the producer
Night Control: extension 1987
2-way sampler:
Network 23 Rolling Databank: a collector of information on all the day-to-day runnings of the network. The file for the Edison Carter Show has the code 46CCW-9201-HAL-14.
Vidident: a computer program used in ep. 3 to identify suspects. It is accessed on Net 23 subterminal 171086. The program accesses the Diogenes Mainframe, and personality templates. The program used is vers 2.01 Rev A
Voice print Analyzer: like an audio lie detector, integrity is measured in percentages.
ICE: refers to security around a computer system. The ICE around the SS mainframe, A-7, is a Buss Guard Structure.
Locations:
Locomotive road: road in fringes in episode 2.
Fringes: outskirts of the city where the less-fortunate or criminal element reside; people eat rats there (ep. 2). In the Fringes, justice is cashflow.
Ned Grossberg: one-time chairman of Network 23
Bryce Lynch: head of Network 23's Research & Development (on 13th floor); birthdate is Oct 7, 1988 (Libra) [126RD]. (Door code for R&D in episode 1 is IJ2FI; a code which is associated with Lynch often)
Blipvertisement: concept developed by Bryce Lynch (called Project X-LN247) where a 30s ad is compressed into 3s, to stop potential channel switching.
Computer generated people program: program developed by Bryce Lynch that created the parrot in episode 1, and went on to create Max Headroom.
Ben Cheviot: Network 23 executive board member, and chairman after Grossberg’s departure. Clearance code is CT0011.
Edwards: Network 23 executive board member; Ratings analyst
Theora Jones: best controller available (previously worked for World1). Father unknown; mother deceased; 12 years spent in state homes. In episode 2, she receives a call on line 74, and her input code is THEO-274-GGF.
Shawn Jones: Theora’s brother, raker known as Ace; occupation as a busboy in “The Fresh Start” restaurant (fired in episode 2 - and where a drink called a Blizzard costs 2.18 Kredits), lives at Metroprojects Block 555/A with girlfriend Winnie and child.
Metropolice [metrocops]: police & security force
Casualty supervisor: possibly a city official consulted about the location of injured people.
Breugle & Mahler: hoods, may have killed Gorrister in Episode 1. Mahler is the muscle of the two.
David: employee of control, takes over as Edison’s controller briefly in episode 2.
Stanley: employee of Network 23 (possibly a janitor).
Terry: employee of control.
Jack: Net 23 employee greeted by Theora in Ep. 3.
Jack Friday: head of Network 23 sports, on floor 85.
Simon Peller: politician sponsered by Network 23; thinks of legalizing the sport Raking until he finds out what it is all about.
Miss Julia Fornby: Network 23 executive board member; coordinator of research and development. She agrees to steal the Max Headroom program for the Mother, a very rich and powerful (and dying) woman in episode 3. She had an affair with Cheviot. She may also be a PR person for the network.
Ashwell: Network 23 executive board member.
Grace: Rick’s bodyguard at the Ouza Bar in episode 2.
Rick: “be nice to animals” He is a blank, and knows many people. He is a friend of Reg and Edison Carter. He is a Rickshaw driver.
Poncho: a woman in the Fringes who is a friend of Reg.
Mel & Rayna: boyfriend and girlfriend from the River, that come to the city to sell blood at the body bank. They are blanks. Rayna is abducted for the use of her pituitary for the Mother. Rayna’s Type is 86.2.
Valerie Towne: C.E.O. of Security Systems Inc., lives on the 23rd floor of Sybaris.
Security Systems Inc.: largest and most powerful corporation of its kind in the world; has access to more priviledged information than any government, and their power reaches into government, homes, police, and the courts. SS is administered by A-7, a mainframe on level 7 of their headquarters, the Citadel. In ep. 4, Valerie Towne fabricated a buy-out scenario to push up the price of SS stock, to gain a world monopoly on security.
Nightingale’s Body Bank (open 24 hours): Florence, proprietor.
Dr. Mason: a surgeon at Nightingale’s.
Dr. Moon: a colleague of Fornby and head of the Transplantation project for the Mother.
Edie: doctor at Nightingale’s
Pantagenate: the head of Nightingale’s
Metro Tax Bureau: or Tax data centre, burns in episode 2, by torcher “all heated up over new TV tax”.
Ouza Bar: Carter visits this establishment in episode 2, and meets Rick there.
Caligula’s: a Fringe bar frequented by Breugle and Mahler.
Sybaris: condominium complex for the rich. The Mother, an old and dying woman, owns a whole floor in ep. 3 (the door code for that floor is 506274). Sybaris security are authorized by code 69B to use deadly force.
Miscellaneous:
News items 20 min in the future: Missile missing from AKG, Man sings whole of Shakespeare, Assassination of medic team in Bolivia, Nuclear submarine explodes.
Containment System R-7: the city is built on this radioactive site.
Human inaliable rights 20 min into the future: consumer credit, unlimited television, personal security.
Credit fraud is a worse crime than murder.
Monday, November 05, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes, pp. 43-75
To make these parts a bit easier, consider the interesting ideas with particular reference to photography. This is not easy material; be thankful that we can, in fact, skim it. There are useful ideas, though.
Immediately, we are introduced to the Roland Barthes of the biography: “he.” Consider his thoughts on the adjective in relation to photography. For Barthes, an image names him (let us assume, perhaps wrongly, that he is speaking of a photographic image here), and it stands for domination and death (ideas that seem to foreshadow Camera Lucida).
He calls photography an “analogical” art in a rather difficult section. The analogy is in the realm of the imaginary; he likens these things to a mirror (again and again, the truth of the “image” is contested). (44)
He links back to the photos from the start of the book, as he mentions his work spaces: “it is the structure of the space which constitutes its identity.” (46)
An aside: he speaks of God who reverses victories. (47)
An important notion of the doxa: “Public Opinion, the mind of the majority.” (47)
What a great quote: “he imagines, each time he writes something, that he will hurt one of his friends-never the same one: it changes.” (49)
More referring to photographs:“the art of living has no history: it does not evolve: the pleasure which vanishes vanishes for good, there is no substitute for it.” (50)
In his section on Chaplin (on p.54), he mentions the “third term,” something I've written about in the past (in relation to Feist and others).
On pp.55-56, he speaks of recording himself playing the piano, and then listening to it. He then discovers that the past of playing coincides with his present of listening, which results in "commentary [being] abolished." (56) Can the same be said about photography? It seems that he might be suggesting that, just as writing about oneself (committing an "image” to paper) is "suicide," so photography is death.
Another aside: Barthes composed music and suffered from migraines.
His discussions of the degrees of language (first – writing, second – writing about writing) as well as his ruminations concerning his own voice, are particularly worthwhile, though certainly far from the present discussions of photography.
He ends this present section being rather hard on himself, suggesting that he never defines the terms important to him, and that his writing on the "large objects of knowledge" are important to no one. (73-74)
Do not be too concerned if much of this writing is enigmatic. It is difficult writing, and it works really well to read through it a few times, and get what you can from it. Barthes’ writing seems to encourage fragmental understanding (as it is written in fragments anyway). So, be encouraged and continue on. Dialogue is welcome!
Immediately, we are introduced to the Roland Barthes of the biography: “he.” Consider his thoughts on the adjective in relation to photography. For Barthes, an image names him (let us assume, perhaps wrongly, that he is speaking of a photographic image here), and it stands for domination and death (ideas that seem to foreshadow Camera Lucida).
He calls photography an “analogical” art in a rather difficult section. The analogy is in the realm of the imaginary; he likens these things to a mirror (again and again, the truth of the “image” is contested). (44)
He links back to the photos from the start of the book, as he mentions his work spaces: “it is the structure of the space which constitutes its identity.” (46)
An aside: he speaks of God who reverses victories. (47)
An important notion of the doxa: “Public Opinion, the mind of the majority.” (47)
What a great quote: “he imagines, each time he writes something, that he will hurt one of his friends-never the same one: it changes.” (49)
More referring to photographs:“the art of living has no history: it does not evolve: the pleasure which vanishes vanishes for good, there is no substitute for it.” (50)
In his section on Chaplin (on p.54), he mentions the “third term,” something I've written about in the past (in relation to Feist and others).
On pp.55-56, he speaks of recording himself playing the piano, and then listening to it. He then discovers that the past of playing coincides with his present of listening, which results in "commentary [being] abolished." (56) Can the same be said about photography? It seems that he might be suggesting that, just as writing about oneself (committing an "image” to paper) is "suicide," so photography is death.
Another aside: Barthes composed music and suffered from migraines.
His discussions of the degrees of language (first – writing, second – writing about writing) as well as his ruminations concerning his own voice, are particularly worthwhile, though certainly far from the present discussions of photography.
He ends this present section being rather hard on himself, suggesting that he never defines the terms important to him, and that his writing on the "large objects of knowledge" are important to no one. (73-74)
Do not be too concerned if much of this writing is enigmatic. It is difficult writing, and it works really well to read through it a few times, and get what you can from it. Barthes’ writing seems to encourage fragmental understanding (as it is written in fragments anyway). So, be encouraged and continue on. Dialogue is welcome!
Monday, October 29, 2012
Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes (1975)
Here we begin thoughts and "discussions," in reading Roland Barthes' earlier work, Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes. The foreword is by Adam Phillips.
According to Phillips, autobiography is a fiction. Barthes suggests that one is stuck in the arresting identity one creates in the simple documenting of one's life. (v)
What must be in autobiography?
1) an account of the parents;
2) childhood memories and likes and dislikes;
3) something of a person's sexuality;
4) the story must make sense of a life, find a meaning or a pattern. (vi)
This is an autobiography without an author.
Philips states, "A sign system is a consensus in which there has never been an initial agreement; a language is a contract that no one has ever digned." (viii) He goes on to talk about the Barthes of Mythologies, who, it seems, is visited throughout the text by the :established" Barthes (newly instituted, at the time) in the Collège de France.
We learn here of Barthes' favourite motto: Larvatus prodeo (I advance pointing to my mask), which suggests "an ironic self-consciousness." (x)
Phillips suggests that the text can be skimmed, something I always felt was what Barthes wanted (Phillips refers often to the short book, The Pleasure of the Text, and I always thought it was in that book that the idea of skimming Barthes first appeared). For Phillips, the book is "about how we might sustain our pleasure without losing our interest, and about how we might sustain our interest without losing our pleasure." (xiii)
The body of the book:
The first 42 pages consist of photographs. Barthes starts off by stating that he has finished the book; the photos are additions, a "treat" for the author (it will be too difficult to paginate my quotations here, as the first 42 pages are unpaginated).
His first comments seem to foreshadow what he ends up doing in Camera Lucida, in discovering why images enthral him. On the first page of substantial text, Barthes suggests that a childhood photograph shows his body "from underneath." Is he just suggesting that it shows his younger self (prehistory)? What does he mean by "from underneath"?
We encounter a photograph showing Barthes' knee-high socks, previously mentioned. In these photos, Barthes mentions boredom. I wonder what he means by this (a recent book, Travels in China, seems a kind of paean to boredom).
Barthes painted!
The last photo (42) is most often used as a kind of "official" photograph. Any ideas as to why this might be?
This is the first section of the book. The next parts are based on much writing, though fragmentary (and thus accessible, in form anyway). This text will be a bit more difficult to read through, and perhaps less applicable to the study of the photograph in crisis. But, then again, he just spent 42 pages showing us photographs, in attempting to show us his life. There must be something there, then, on which to comment.
According to Phillips, autobiography is a fiction. Barthes suggests that one is stuck in the arresting identity one creates in the simple documenting of one's life. (v)
What must be in autobiography?
1) an account of the parents;
2) childhood memories and likes and dislikes;
3) something of a person's sexuality;
4) the story must make sense of a life, find a meaning or a pattern. (vi)
This is an autobiography without an author.
Philips states, "A sign system is a consensus in which there has never been an initial agreement; a language is a contract that no one has ever digned." (viii) He goes on to talk about the Barthes of Mythologies, who, it seems, is visited throughout the text by the :established" Barthes (newly instituted, at the time) in the Collège de France.
We learn here of Barthes' favourite motto: Larvatus prodeo (I advance pointing to my mask), which suggests "an ironic self-consciousness." (x)
Phillips suggests that the text can be skimmed, something I always felt was what Barthes wanted (Phillips refers often to the short book, The Pleasure of the Text, and I always thought it was in that book that the idea of skimming Barthes first appeared). For Phillips, the book is "about how we might sustain our pleasure without losing our interest, and about how we might sustain our interest without losing our pleasure." (xiii)
The body of the book:
The first 42 pages consist of photographs. Barthes starts off by stating that he has finished the book; the photos are additions, a "treat" for the author (it will be too difficult to paginate my quotations here, as the first 42 pages are unpaginated).
His first comments seem to foreshadow what he ends up doing in Camera Lucida, in discovering why images enthral him. On the first page of substantial text, Barthes suggests that a childhood photograph shows his body "from underneath." Is he just suggesting that it shows his younger self (prehistory)? What does he mean by "from underneath"?
We encounter a photograph showing Barthes' knee-high socks, previously mentioned. In these photos, Barthes mentions boredom. I wonder what he means by this (a recent book, Travels in China, seems a kind of paean to boredom).
Barthes painted!
The last photo (42) is most often used as a kind of "official" photograph. Any ideas as to why this might be?
This is the first section of the book. The next parts are based on much writing, though fragmentary (and thus accessible, in form anyway). This text will be a bit more difficult to read through, and perhaps less applicable to the study of the photograph in crisis. But, then again, he just spent 42 pages showing us photographs, in attempting to show us his life. There must be something there, then, on which to comment.
Monday, October 22, 2012
The Last Part of Camera Lucida
Section 41: Barthes is considering the Winter Garden photograph after the passage of time, after "remaining with it," as he suggests. He refers to pioneers of scientific images: "What Marey and Muybridge have done as operators I myself want to do as spectator: I decompose, I enlarge, and, so to speak, I retard, in order to have time to know at last." (99) He wishes to "enter the paper's depth." (100) He gets at notions of desire here: "I can have the fond hope of discovering truth," though he admits he will not find it. (99)
Section 42: He suggests that, sometimes, he perceives something if the truth in a photograph, what he calls "a likeness." But the likeness is imprecise, imaginary: "they conform to what I expect from them." (101-102) For Barthes, the actual truth (that is not imaginary) exists in photos which are not "a likeness" (such as the Winter Garden photograph).
Section 43: Photos also display, not the truth of the individual, but the truth of lineage. This is both reassuring (Barthes suggests that the thought of origin soothes us) and disappointing: "it bares the mysterious difference of beings issuing from one and the same family." (105)
Section 44: He concludes, "I cannot penetrate, cannot reach into the Photograph." (106) The photograph is unlike the tect ("our vision of it is certain"). The photograph arrests interpretation: "this-has-been." (106-107) I am surprised by this observation. e, in semiotics (visual or textual), do not believe that any sign arrests interpretation (photograph or not).
I don't wish to speak for all semioticians here, but this is certainly what I believe.
Section 45: Barthes' frustration is evident here: he still seeks (more properly, desires something more in the photograph. He wishes to discover the person in the photograph completely. It seems here that Barthes is grasping at straws, so to speak. He wants to find the truth in a photograph, and so he finds, as the locus of his desires, the air (or the expression). But then he immediately writes, "The air of a face is unanalyzable." (107) But it evokes for the observer, "little individual soul, good in one person, bad in another." (109) The air is what allows Barthes to identify his mother in the Winter Garden photograph.
Section 46: He goes to great lengths in this section to come to his point, though he beautifully expresses it:
Section 47: What a great start to a section: he concludes his findings (photography shows that "that has been") and confronts his critics. The madness of photography is that it is about the absence of the object and also that the object existed where we see it in the photograph. In this way, photography is a hallucination. (115)
For Barthes (and all of us?), there is a link between Photography, madness, and love, or, more properly, Pity. We love those photos that allow us to enter them, to embrace the subject, to "[go] mad for Pity's sake." (116-117)
Section 48: The last section. Society attempts to control the madness of the photograph (as outlined in the last section). First, it makes photography into art ("no art is made," says Barthes). (117) Photography can be art, but it must be powerless photography. Second, society generalizes and make photography banal. For Barthes, photography is everywhere (he calls this a tyranny).
And, in a way, he calls for the destruction of the medium: "let us abolish the images, let us save immediate Desire (desire without mediation)." (119) But in the end, he suggests the choice is in the hands of the observer, to banalize photography (to make the medium "tame"), or to make it mad, "to confront in it the wakening of intractable reality." (119)
This is a beautiful book, and it has made me want to track down photos of madness, that make me want to get inside of them, that frustrate me because of my inability to do so. I want to find photos of those I love, that show the truth of these people. But, in a way, I also want to find those photographs that hurt me because they simply identify but do not convey the "air" of the subject. Those kinds of photographs don't only point to the absence of the subject, but also the absence of the subject's soul, the truth of them. In that absence, I can grieve, I think. Barthes seems to wave these sorts of photographs, perhaps as art.
I think I can embrace them because of what they lack, and what that lack then evokes from me.
I also want to capitalize "Photography," and write with more semicolons. I won't blame Roland Barthes for that.
Section 42: He suggests that, sometimes, he perceives something if the truth in a photograph, what he calls "a likeness." But the likeness is imprecise, imaginary: "they conform to what I expect from them." (101-102) For Barthes, the actual truth (that is not imaginary) exists in photos which are not "a likeness" (such as the Winter Garden photograph).
Section 43: Photos also display, not the truth of the individual, but the truth of lineage. This is both reassuring (Barthes suggests that the thought of origin soothes us) and disappointing: "it bares the mysterious difference of beings issuing from one and the same family." (105)
Section 44: He concludes, "I cannot penetrate, cannot reach into the Photograph." (106) The photograph is unlike the tect ("our vision of it is certain"). The photograph arrests interpretation: "this-has-been." (106-107) I am surprised by this observation. e, in semiotics (visual or textual), do not believe that any sign arrests interpretation (photograph or not).
I don't wish to speak for all semioticians here, but this is certainly what I believe.
Section 45: Barthes' frustration is evident here: he still seeks (more properly, desires something more in the photograph. He wishes to discover the person in the photograph completely. It seems here that Barthes is grasping at straws, so to speak. He wants to find the truth in a photograph, and so he finds, as the locus of his desires, the air (or the expression). But then he immediately writes, "The air of a face is unanalyzable." (107) But it evokes for the observer, "little individual soul, good in one person, bad in another." (109) The air is what allows Barthes to identify his mother in the Winter Garden photograph.
All the photographs of my mother which I was looking through were a little like so many masks; at the last, suddenly the mask vanished: there remained a soul, ageless but not timeless, since this air was the person I used to see, consubstantial with her face, each day of her long life. (110)This is what makes a true photograph: the capturing of the air (one's soul, one's shadow). Barthes suggests it is due to either the photographer's talent or luck, but if it is not present, the photo simply identifies, but it is not a "true" image.
Section 46: He goes to great lengths in this section to come to his point, though he beautifully expresses it:
by leading me to believe ... that I have found what Calvino calls "the try total photograph," it accomplishes the unheard-of identification of reality ("that-has-been") with truth ("there-she-is!"); it becomes at once evidential and exclamative; it bears the effigy to that crazy point where affect (love, compassion, grief, enthusiasm, desire) is the guarantee of Being. (113)He cites his student, Julia Kristeva, at the end of this section (an honour, I'm sure).
Section 47: What a great start to a section: he concludes his findings (photography shows that "that has been") and confronts his critics. The madness of photography is that it is about the absence of the object and also that the object existed where we see it in the photograph. In this way, photography is a hallucination. (115)
For Barthes (and all of us?), there is a link between Photography, madness, and love, or, more properly, Pity. We love those photos that allow us to enter them, to embrace the subject, to "[go] mad for Pity's sake." (116-117)
Section 48: The last section. Society attempts to control the madness of the photograph (as outlined in the last section). First, it makes photography into art ("no art is made," says Barthes). (117) Photography can be art, but it must be powerless photography. Second, society generalizes and make photography banal. For Barthes, photography is everywhere (he calls this a tyranny).
And, in a way, he calls for the destruction of the medium: "let us abolish the images, let us save immediate Desire (desire without mediation)." (119) But in the end, he suggests the choice is in the hands of the observer, to banalize photography (to make the medium "tame"), or to make it mad, "to confront in it the wakening of intractable reality." (119)
This is a beautiful book, and it has made me want to track down photos of madness, that make me want to get inside of them, that frustrate me because of my inability to do so. I want to find photos of those I love, that show the truth of these people. But, in a way, I also want to find those photographs that hurt me because they simply identify but do not convey the "air" of the subject. Those kinds of photographs don't only point to the absence of the subject, but also the absence of the subject's soul, the truth of them. In that absence, I can grieve, I think. Barthes seems to wave these sorts of photographs, perhaps as art.
I think I can embrace them because of what they lack, and what that lack then evokes from me.
I also want to capitalize "Photography," and write with more semicolons. I won't blame Roland Barthes for that.
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