Beware blogging, the insidious teme

Photo credit: Andrew Heavens TED 2008Today’s Thinking Club took a more philosophical stance, inspired by a TED Talk on ‘Genes, Memes and Temes’ by Susan Blackmore. We used her hypothesis as our jump-point: Technology is replicating itself and angling for world dominance.

Our attention focused on the blogosphere. In the course of today’s casual conversation we traversed the subject of technology-driven communication platforms.

Why do we blog?
I regularly trawl fellow bloggers for ideas. I also read books, magazines, chat to strangers, listen to the radio, watch TV. In fact I am an absolute information junkie. Except for the odd exceptional novel and outstanding post, its all grazing. But generally with a purpose. I choose a topic and read briefly but widely about it. 

1. To explore themes

It’s the same when I blog. Before I ever put finger to keyboard, I thought for many years about what I would blog about.  What I would write about, what focus I could bring, what conversations I could start. For myself and for my readers I needed a theme and a direction. So I blog to provoke thoughts about idea generation the written word: how they affect and drive both marketing communications and social development.

2. To share

Dan on the other hand casts a much wider net. His Shoebox Creative blog, is subtitled: Daily observations from dan day, a designer*. Whatever is running around Dan’s head is what he writes about. His subject matter varies from a scientific view of stress, to inspired design works, to a running commentary on our weekly hacky-sack sessions.

3. To connect

While it seems that we come from contradictory start points, the underlying reason we all blog is ultimately the same: we need to connect; feel heard and understood.

So whether its using Facebook, SMS, email, Twitter, IM, even good old phones, letters, or – God forbid – an old fashioned face-to-face catchup, ultimately we communicate to connect. To feel good. To feel wanted. To feel needed. To be heard. 

This is what traditional theories of communication and sociology espouse anyway. Susan Blackmore disagrees.

Her explanations of memetics proposes a third tier of replication: technology multiplication. The first tier of this paradigm is based on gene theory, as introduced by Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution.

Evolution notes that genes replicate. However subsequent generations develop differences. Their evolution is driven by survival of the fittest.

Memes are the second tier of evolutionary development. While genes have a mandate to replicate and evolve, so too does society. Memes are the self-generating, evolutionary momentum of ideas. Evolving thoughts which drive the changing face of humanity.

Susan Blackmore now proposes that technology itself has become a third and independently motivated evolutionary force. It is driving exponential change in the way we interact and communicate.

Through this lens could we suppose that technology-based communication platforms are not being driven by human desires at all? That in fact they are propelled by technology itself?

In our arrogance we assume to be forcing the change in telecommunications. Our desire for faster, more instant, more on-call, ever-present communication is attributed to the constant improvements seen in devices.

Once we used to write letters. Then we emailed. Now we instant message. Back then we had ‘Schoolfriends Reunited’, then it was ‘My Space’ now it is Facebook (Mach 1). What will that evolve to? Surely the next step of one’s profile picture – now a photo self-portrait – will be a moving  (video) image?

Will we really ’choose’ to put ourselves up for constant video surveillance? Probably. Though looked at this way, it seems like much more of a Big Brother exercise. At least, that is what the old conspiracy theories would have proposed.

Under Susan Blackmore’s tutelage though, our ‘choice’ to be ever-connected seems far more insidious. It is not us, nor even our governments (in the name of safety and security) but an inhuman, piece of machinery that is plotting our future. 

Where will end up next? Dan’s final thought was that humans and technology will merge. In generations to come, the earth will be populated by futuristic Taureans: half man, half robot creatures.

You might think that sounds far-fetched. But think about this… Even before flesh and metal merge in the physical realm, our habits and practice are already being technologified. Where once we would pick up the phone to talk, today we send an SMS. Instead of meeting in the boardroom, we video conference. We watch separate TV shows in separate rooms at the time of our choosing. And rarely talk them over. What happened to the community aspect of ‘watching a show’?

 

Less human connection. More simple transmission. Will our grandchildren even know how to reach out and touch?

 

 

Perhaps we should instead ask our computers… Why do we blog?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this rather sci-fi Thinking Club exploration. Please post your comment.
Let’s get this conversation started,

Charlotte 

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Dirt Music a damned pity

I was really liking Dirt Music there for a minute. You know, the Tim Winton novel that won him a glut of awards including a Miles Franklin.

It was thrust upon me by another Tim, the website designer I work with in Creative Suite. Winton is one of his favourite novelists and when I complained that I hadn’t enjoyed Cloudstreet, my Tim (Quinn), insisted that I give his Tim (Winton) another chance.

So I did. And for the most part, I really enjoyed it. The abruptness of the first chapter got me. His prose mirrored the shut-down emotions of his protaganist and her partner. The exploration of small country coastal town life rang true.

Dirt Music brilliantly portrays the deep-seated traditions of hatred between local clans. Where people know too much and too little about their closest neighbours. Bloody dirty fueds whose origins are long forgotten yet shape everyday behaviours. Rivalries between the physically tough townies and the artistic edge dwellers. 

My teenage years were spent in Narooma. Though set in a fictional West Australian port, Winton could have been detailing the town of my youth.

Dirt Music began gritty and real. But it never fell into melancholy – which I what I so disliked about Cloudstreet. I know many people love Cloudstreet. There is no denying that Winton is a superb writer. I like reading his work simply for the phrasing. But in stories, middle-class melancholy just isn’t my thing. I was pleased that Dirt Music avoided it.

Obviously, that’s purely personal taste. I’m one of those that likes to sidestep the blues. I am intrinsically optimistic. I believe in happy endings and living life on the balance of the high side. Sure the downers are what make the uppers all the more exhilerating but when riding the everyday path, I bend towards the light. Which, although it explored disconnected families and relationships, Dirt Music achieved.

So why didn’t I like it? Ironically because it finished on such a high note. A perfectly Pollyanna romantic ending where people relinquished their negative life patterns and became better than humanly possible.

I didn’t buy it. For me there wasn’t enough catalyst for change in any but one of the their lives. I couldn’t believe the red neck would ever choose to deliver such apostolic confessions and such an abrupt about face. I certainly hadn’t seen anything in our anti-heroine which would indicate that she could ever make a relationship work, let alone one built on the value of a brief 48 hour interlude.

While each plot point worked, the interweaving that makes each one a relation of the others, seemed to miss some essential micro-stitching. Those little bits of fluff that actually make us humans not robots; that turn artificial characters l into people you whose pain and happiness become yours.

I felt nothing for the characters in Dirt Music and couldn’t care less that they rode off into the sunset. I wasn’t throwing confetti. I was just happy the book was finished.

So sorry Tim (Quinn) after two attempts I’m still not a Winton convert, though I certainly appreciate his skill. I  enjoy reading parts of his books simply for their poetry but not for the story – which for me, ultimately, is why I read.

Perhaps things will change when I have more time. But at this life juncture, filled as it is with unwieldy preschoolers, the ebbs and flows of freelance copywriting and all too short reading opportunities, its the story that gets me in the end.

In the end, Dirt Music sang sweet words. Pared down, aching, beautiful words. And a story that rang hollow. Damned pity.

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The joy of double entendre

Reading a fellow writer’s blog, I was inspired by his musings on a recently observed road sign. As word lovers I suppose it’s not surprising that we linger longer over such things.

He pondered “Prohibited Traffic” and wondered if anyone could get away with venturing down roads so marked. A commenter added that the “Heavy Plants Crossing” sign always made her giggle with its visual pun.

This reminded me of our family habit reenacted each annual coast-road drive. One of us would read out the sign, “Koalas Cross Here at Night,” and another would reply, “Let’s hope they’re feeling happier in the morning.”

It made me laugh all the more, once my favourite English teacher told this story about the same sign. His first posting was out the back of Bourke. That Koala sign was the inspiration for the creative writing component of the Year 10 General English exam. During the year’s practice sessions, one student had managed to make every story about drinking beer, his mates and their ute; whether the jump-point was “My day at the beach,” “Looking after our elderly” or “My worst nightmare.”

For his exam, this student wrote about drinking beer, in the ute, with his mates, as they headed out for a camping weekend. That night they went roo shooting but accidentally killed a koala instead. Driving home they passed a sign that read, “Koalas cross here at night.” The others laughed as they shot three holes in the sign and replied, “Not anymore they don’t!”

Footnote: The teacher would have given him full marks except that it was supposed to be creative fiction and he believed it to be a genuine news report.

Right-o. Any good Australian will have spent hours traversing this fine country of ours and many the world over. What’s the funniest sign you’ve seen?

Let’s get this conversation started,
Charlotte

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Love your work?

The Secret to Finding a Job you Love while Paying the Bills.

It’s a long and meandering road for some us to find our career passion.

My younger sister decided at eleven that she was going be a doctor. On the pretext of a ‘better education’ she pressured our parents to send her to boarding school. She focused and worked hard. The ambition of medicine drove her to excel.

On the other hand, I searched long and hard for a career foothold. As I bounced across myriad artistic expressions I was always envious of my sister’s early determination.

Still, even she digressed. While the original plan was to be a human doctor, she’s actually an animal doctor. A vet. Who now works in the marketing department of a global pharmaceutical company that develops animal medicine.

It’s comforting to know that even those of us who start with a direction, usually meander. Recently I updated my work history and I realised that no matter where I’ve gone, I always seem to end up swimming in words. Though it may seem frustrating at times, as a writer I’ve found the journey mandatory. It’s improved my skill and ideas.

At the other end of my family spectrum sits ‘older brother.’ In every way he’s the opposite of  ‘younger sister.’ He starts early, ends late and works weird shifts to accrue flexi-time. This he takes in 6-month chunks, escaping to France every few years. He works to live, not the other way ‘round.

Finally there’s my older sister. Perhaps she has it the hardest? She doesn’t have a ‘job’ at all. Her time is spent raising 3 busy girls and supporting an incredibly successful, hard-working husband. She doesn’t get any official ‘adult’ time off, like those of us who escape to the office. Though she has plenty of dreams, they wait in the wings for this hectic life stage to pass.

Yes, even in our small family of four we’re very different. Though I have moments of life envy, I like my ‘work/life’ balance. What is the secret? My vote goes to: admitting your passion and having the courage to follow through. And… being prepared for things to change.

When I was single I could afford to be more creative with my job status. Now that I have a mortgage and two kids, it’s a much tougher balancing act. Often I’m exhausted, incredibly challenged yet somehow, infinitely more rewarded.

What about you? Do you love what you do but struggle to pay the bills, or do you sit through the drudgery of work to pay for your lifestyle outside it? Have you put your dreams on hold or are they costing you the earth?

Tell me – Is it possible to have both? Love to hear your thoughts… Let’s get this conversation started.

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Italy anyone?

It’s the weekend, time to lighten the mood. Anyone for a spot of travelling? You can enjoy the sights and sounds of wonderful Italy without leaving your armchair. I personally love this country because it was there, while enjoying my last great international sojourn, that we conceived our first born. Now with two young ones it’s a bit harder to jump on a plane! So join me for a journey from the living room through this delightful little timepiece…

Through the Looking Glass

This fascinating little art-as-life study  is driven purely by images and sound. It captures 24 hours in 5 key Italian locations. As a static observer you can zoom through the day, or take it more slowly.

I love how this simple execution perfectly illustrates life’s complexity. If you stop once in a while, the sounds and activities offer real gems.

As I write this, midnight water is lapping in Venice. Jumping back into the scene, I slowly move the dial. The roar of a boat overpowers everything. I reverse and move at snail’s pace. A lone man’s greeting breaks the silence, moments before the boat arrives. Stopping to listen more closely I realise he’s talking to another man on the edge of the dock.

Even if I were in Venice, I probably wouldn’t catch this exchange. It happens at about 4am. Well, I’ve enjoyed my little break out of the every-day. Feel like escaping anyone?

http://www.theircircularlife.it/frameset.htm

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Art or Exploitation?

When does artistic freedom become exploitation? A discussion of modern media and the Bill Henson debacle.

Yesterday’s post on Hrant Dink provoked an interesting comment from Tim, likening Turkey’s Article 301 to the suppression of Australian photographer, Bill Henson. I began responding with a simple comment but my thoughts on this are too long for the short reply, so here is another post.Art

For those living internationally, a Bill Henson exhibition was shut down earlier this year, following claims of child exploitation. Some photographs featured a naked thirteen-year old girl. For those wanting details, this Wikepedia entry nicely summarises the media chain reaction. Here I thought we could explore Tim’s suggestion that suppressing Henson’s art is similar to suppressing freedom of speech around the world.

art or porn?On the surface of it, I have to agree. But then again, Henson’s subject matter is quite different from Dink’s. Without having seen all the photos of the 2008 exhibition, I find the Henson debacle a tough one. Yes I support freedom of expression and the exploration of life through art. But is it really necessary to photograph naked 13 year olds?

Henson has said in an earlier interview with egothemag.com,

“The reason I like working with teenagers is because they represent a kind of breach between the dimensions that people cross through. The classical root of the word “adolescence” means to grow towards something. I am fascinated with that interval, that sort of highly ambiguous and uncertain period where you have an exponential growth of experience and knowledge, but also a kind of tenuous grasp on the certainties of adult life.”

Yes, travelling through and surviving adolescence is tricky. As teenagers we often have a very tenuous grasp on what is safe especially when exploring our sexuality. Doing so within the security of friends, family and those with our best interests as heart is exciting. But should complete strangers ogle this journey? If my naked thirteen-year old daughter was the subject of exploration by men well past their prime, I would be disgusted. That is exactly what happens when such images are presented as ‘art’ and hung in public galleries.

For argument’s sake – let’s broaden our view and look at where else such imagery is displayed. What is the difference between Bill Henson’s exhibition and the upcoming film, ‘Twilight’ – a love story between a teenage mortal and a teenage vampire. The two-minute trailer I watched recently was as dark, brooding and sexually charged as any Henson photo I have seen. I saw it before enjoying Sex and the City, a film I was going to see with my fourteen-year old niece until her Mum thought twice about its content. Interestingly, my niece and her Mum both love the book, Twilight, and I imagine they will see the movie as soon as it comes out.

So where do we draw the line? At what point does artistic exploration become perversion? 

Perhaps Henson has done us a favour? By using a different medium has Henson simply made us view the sexualisation of minors with fresh eyes? Or is it that society is becoming more conscious of the issue? Comparing Henson’s 2008 photographs with those of his 2003 exhibition, one would argue that these recent shots are far less shocking than his earlier work. They attracted far less scrutiny. If you’d like to make your own comparisons, visit the Ros Oxley online gallery.

Because we are bombarded daily with these images in film and teen magazines have we become blind? By using a new channel has Henson simply reduced the static and inflamed a healthy debate? 

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please add your comments.

Let’s get this conversation started,
Charlotte

 

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For the love of words…

The lyrics to F.R David’s “Words Don’t Come Easy” were the first I ever learnt… perhaps because they focused on my favourite subject? I was seven.

I wasn’t thinking of them when I came up with my tagline for Decypher: words made easy. But there it is. For some, words flow naturally and easily off the tongue; from finger to keyboard to published word. For others, it’s an eternal struggle. In the course of my writing, I’ve known both…

How do words sit with you? Do you like them, love them or hate them? Do you see their endless possibility and play with the deliciousness of their vowels, or are they just a means to an end? What have you read or written lately that’s made you pause?

I’m currently ensconced in The Book Thief by award-winning, young Australian novelist, Marcus Zusack. For the first time in a long time, I am savouring the book’s words and poetry as much as the story. Beautiful…It’s an amazing read on every level. Perhaps it goes back to my first true love. Publishers Pan Mac say, “The Book Thief is a story about the power of words to make worlds.”

Apparently I’m not the only one to be in raptures. Marcus has lapped up the awards for this one and they are well deserved.

Winner - Boeke Prize (South Africa)
Winner - 2007 Book Sense Book of the Year Award – Children’s Literature
Shortlisted - Australian Book Industry Awards 2006 – Australian Book of the Year
Shortlisted - Australian Book Industry Awards 2006 – Australian Literary Fiction Book of the Year
Shortlisted - 2006 Nielsen BookData Booksellers’ Choice Award
Winner - 2006 Kathleen Mitchell Award
Shortlisted - Best Book Award – 2006 Commonwealth Writers’ Prize

Whether I am writing corporate copy, marketing swill or literary attempts, I fluctuate between wild elation and agonising frustration. While reading The Book Thief, I have experienced all this and more! Sadly I’m almost finished this modern masterpiece, so help me find the next one. What’s the best book you have read lately? >

 

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