Tagged with internet

On Mavernship, part 3: Personal Bitterness and Creative Employment

I was shopping with Brian in Morrisons when I noticed how bitter I had become. I turned to him and said “I hate cake”. It’s offical: I’m suffering from some form of bitterness that has subsumed my soul. This state is not unusual for me though; however, I think I’m going to have to say that this current wave of bile flooding my system is in no way helped by the problems I’m trying to consider in this article. But, like a scabby knee, I keep coming back to pick at it.

I know how you feel, kitten.

Back in Hans Abbing states that it is the the partner that supports the artist, the economic benefit that these people bring to their households is still significant.

And, as writer Jacques Monin points out in this article,
the British as a nation are too dependent on a notion of wealth and earning as indications of success and happiness. This is a common theme that can be found in the writings of many commentors at the moment, from Alain de Botton to that “barefoot doctor” guy. Balancing this out in popular culture is the glut of property porn on television, preaching the notion of happiness being linked to a nice detached “family home” in which a nuclear family can be raised. Like the idea of painting as a cutting edge art, this is obviously a fallacy – it’s just as easy to be an unhappy family in a detached house, no matter what its value is.

I’ve been titling these pieces with the word ‘mavernship’ because it’s really about the issue of cultural influence that I need to discuss. As the organiser, communicator, and adminstrator of NewcastleGraft, I’ve gained a small amount of internet fame. This is entirely for my ability to be communcicative about art in the Newcastle area, and up till now, I’ve been doing that in a generalised way, supporting any activities within the area that could be put under the general banner of ‘art’. This, of course, included a vast number of activities that helped artists support the raft, as that raft-like conglomeration of businesses supported them in turn.

The only reason I’ve been able to become recongnised for my communication skills is the fact that I have some small facility with computers and other new technologies. Only last year I spent some time explaining the idea of Facebook to a local gallery, something which could be a valuable skill as a “social media facilitator” (listen to that podcast when done here). Sadly, over the past five years I’ve seen very little engagment with these technologies from institutions involved in the raft. Some, yes, but nowhere near the amount that I thought we would see by this point.

So enraged am I by the lack of good practice in this area that I cannot even begin to list the horrible manglings of internet ettiquette that I’ve seen practiced by galleries and artists. From my current vantage point as a postgraduate student within Newcastle univesity, I am seeing an even more comprehensive thrashing of good practice. Don’t. Get. Me. Started. That bitterness I spoke of at the top of this post rages when it sees the things done by those folk.

And so, I have to ask the question – how should artists be using the communication platforms that are available now to remove themselves from traditional employment? How can the internet be used to support creative practice, beyond the traditional, slow-reacting forms of support espoused by the Arts Council and other leaders? That will have to be the subject for part four.

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On Mavernship (part two: The Men from the High Castles)

Part two of some, which seem to be slightly rambly. Oh well. Better out than in.

Before I get going here, let’s just take a minute out to think about the image creators of the world. I’m not talking about painters, or any other type of specific mileau, but rather just the general act of creating images in itself, from your imagination. That’s what most people consider to be art.

That act of creation – whether by putting pen to paper, or by Cory Doctow’s pixel-stained peasants – is so important to the artistic industries. It’s the baseline idea of what art should be for so many people, that the idea of being an artist is tied to the stereotype of the painter in his garret. Even some artists fall into this ontological trap: I want to be an artist, therefore I shall be a painter, because that means that I will be making images.

For me, painting is a dead form, as much in need of protection as coppicing or any other medieval technology superseded by better, modern technology. Whilst painting could hang on well into the twentieth century, it’s last great gasp came just before the widespread introduction of television into households. It didn’t matter what Clement Greenberg wrote then, because compared to “I Love Lucy” or “Mr. Ed” all paintings are remote and detached.

A painting can still be beautiful, of course, but there are many other ways to make a beautiful image. Contemporary art galleries have created the term giclee, to describe a technique of printing computer images on canvas. This term is completely made up, engineered to lull the purchaser of these images that it’s okay to buy what amounts to a fancy print-out, because it’s art in the capitalised Fine Art sense.

And it’s that idea of a Fine Art, made by Fine Artists like Painters, that really confuses things. Personally – and bear in mind that this entire series of short writings is all from my personal perspective – every time I meet somebody who describes themselves as a painter, I worry. Usually that person is carrying around the sort of mental baggage that allows them to think that they are important, that the act of image creation via paint is somehow more worthy, and that their work is somehow worth more than their contemporaries.

In the digital world, this is not so. This has been proven for around the last five years, cohesively, determinably, repeatedly. All information can be copied, and even if it doesn’t want to be free (as the early hackers claimed), it must be moved. Visual information is a rich source of inspiration for us all – something we can’t help, owing to our hunting processes built into us.

Anybody who places themself apart from this new paradigm of information flow, or (mistakenly) sets themself above it, will find that events will happily take place without them. For a while, they’ll be able to sit back and reap the rewards of their pre-internet behaviour, but even as they do their impenetrable castle’s are going to start being undermined.

Suddenly I feel like this writing has turned into political polemic about the new age of an internet of things. I’m not heading in that direction though; this was just a detour, setting some groundwork before we can talk about the aforementioned raft that supports artistic economy and endeavour.

This was slightly delayed and altered by my supercold – this past few days have seen me become a pink-and-green snot making machine. Eurgh. Next up, I really will get to the ideas I talked about in the first part.

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Free Modems Suck

If you’ve been given a router from your internet provider, I’d recommend throwing it away and replacing it with something else. Anything else. A forty quid ADSL router and modem is going to be as good as the free turd-with-ethernet-port you get in the post. Got that?

Most of today has been an exercise in pointlessness, by trying to follow the help pages on BT’s website to plumb in a wireless router. This has the surprising effect of allowing half of a web-page to load before completely stopping all network access, including access to the setup page so you have to do a hard reset. 

The device gets pretty close to working, but the BT router is so unfriendly that it has the giant greasy fingerprints of engineers all over it. I can’t think of the last time I needed to access some of the functions that are listed here, but the essential function (‘work with a wireless access point that my girlfriend brought on the high street’) is not there.  

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I heart Baby Monitors.

I’m terrible at getting things done. I’ve even read the book, but I still find it hard to get things finished; perhaps it’s the nearly persuasive presence of the Internet in my life. I have found myself wishing that I had somewhere to go that didn’t have the internet, so I could get more work done.

Last night, I noticed that the internet was acting a little screwy. I checked it out, and then sometime around half ten my wireless signal just faded to nothing. There was no way I could log onto it; no way I could spend the rest of the night reading about all sorts of crap. After much testing, and even doing a complete scrub-and-reset of my router, I was just giving up to go and do something else (tidy the front room and do the washing up) when I heard a baby crying next door.

Baby monitors operate on the same frequency as wifi networks, so this has solved the problem of where my network went. And perhaps it’s killed another problem too: now I can be more productive at home. After all, if both my favourite library and my studio have the internet, it is getting hard to unplug.

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Internet Funnies: Or; Please Smile Through this Period of Change

I like the internet. Currently, it would be fair to say that I like the internet more than the work I’m supposed to be doing. Which, by the way, is an annoying piece of text to say that I’m the best person in the world to give AHRC funding to. I mentioned to my mother that I was writing the application, and that I wished they could just look me up in the big database of excellent people, and she emailed me back

… there’s something wrong with the database. When asked to sort on the excellence indicator, the database somehow does not come up with H’s. It must be written in Microsoft Access.

That’s right; my mum makes database jokes. That makes her 100% cooler than your mum. However, she’s not as cool as Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, who taught himself to speak after a terrible illness. And he wrote this, after some poor schmuck got fired for posting up a Dilbert strip at his work. Which is a great way to reward his faithful readers, even if the guy in question might have preferred some cash.

Thank god the internet isn’t just a balls-to-the-wall whose-the-coolest competition. I’d lose. In these days of constant distraction it seems the internet is usually best at meme creation, which leads me Colin’s Bear:

Colin’s Bear is something that is so far from the norm that you have to laugh. And then click the button for ‘replay’. But wtf is going on? Waxy.org’s founder went and found out for us, so we didn’t have to. Phew. Other places to find internet memes are sites like ytmnd.com, which I’ve stopped looking at, Digg.com which I only look at when I’m trying to avoid doing work, and the amazing icanhascheezburger.com.

Strictly speaking, icanhascheezburger only documents the lolcat phenomenon of late 2007/early 2008. Lolcats are something you should get if I regard you as a friend, but I do know at least two extremely intelligent people who are not moved by them. I don’t hold it against them, it’s probably something like colourblindness. But with cats. Let’s test you, huh?

Funny Pictures

Did you laugh? If you find the use of incorrect spelling funny when juxtaposed with the unusual picture of a cat, then you might be interested in this picture, which is a more typical picture of a ‘lolcat’ -

funny pictures

The use of language to present itself as something a bit stupid, but actually using sophisticated humour, can be extended indefinitely. There exist a large number of lolcat spin-off’s, including lolpresident, the deeply nerdy lolthulhu, and loltrek. Loltrek is great, and it really tickles my funnybone to see original series Star Trek anyway, so this is a highlight of internet humour for me. Loltrek also links to Anil Dash’s scholarly interpretation of the lolcat meme, which brings us back to where we came in – academia.

So let’s talk Trek instead. Some people like to accuse me of being a ‘trekkie’, which is to say, a huge fan of Star Trek. Actually, I’m a huge sci-fi fan, and I don’t like reading books unless it has a spaceship on the front. Or nanotechnology. Or giant robots. Hell, I’d read a book which just had those things on the front, even if it was a romance. But I do know the plotlines to most of the Star Trek episodes from the 1990′s, as they were some of the only science fiction that was on during the daytime. And I do love science fiction.

I don’t, however, love Star Trek’s stupid ideas of peace and love in the future. I recently read that The Next Generation was pretty much California in space, as everybody got on really well and was totally fine with talking out any problems. Obviously a big fat load of hairy space bollocks dreamed up by Americans befuddled by enormous sections of food. Which is why I was so happy to find that somebody had dubbed over sections of Star Trek California really, really carefully with the effect of turning the crew into potty-mouthed, food-obsessed sex-fiends.

At the moment, I don’t have any TV. The flatmate who had the television addiction (Eastenders, Hollyoaks, and other mindless rot) moved out, taking her cable subscription with her. We then found out that the ariel socket in the living room is not connected to an ariel, it’s just a hole in the wall. So, as a household, we just stopped watching television, which is not a great loss as the BBC seems to be devoted to only making one good serial per year, which function at a level of lowest common denominator.

(Translation: the new Doctor Who show is facile crap. And Torchwood is utterly pointless – read the reviews.)

This has turned into a massive post, and I hope it’s managed to tickle your funnybone a bit. I didn’t have time to mention this picture, which I should have, or the song ‘Re: Your Brains“, but I’ll leave you with somebody who regularly posts up a computer game review. Check it out:

I’m off to watch his most recent effort at Escapist Magazine, even though I only play about four computer games a month. After that, I’m going to sneak back into bed and pretend that I just popped out to get another pillow, not write an enormous blogpost that rambled on for ages.

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