recentpopularlog in

robertogreco : accretion   16

The Creative Independent: Charles Broskoski on self-discovery that happens upon revisiting things you’ve accumulated over time
“How did Are.na come to be?

Around 2006, I met John Michael Boling through a social bookmarking website called Del.icio.us. Your Del.icio.us profile ended up being a nice representation of what you were interested in and actively thinking about.

Del.icio.us let you see the constellation of people with similar interests. For example, maybe you see that 20 other people saved the same link you did. Then you can look through these peoples’ saved links and learn about things you had never considered before. I met John Michael simply through us saving many of the same links and finding there was a lot of overlap.

Were you a student around then?

Yeah. Cory Arcangel, who was my professor at the time, introduced me to Del.icio.us. He made everyone in class use it. The first part of class was everyone talking through some links they found on the internet. People would bring in things that may not seem interesting at first, but Cory was amazing at parsing out why something might be interesting. It showed you it’s important to think deeply about why you like what you like.

“You’re in college and should be interested in everything” was Cory’s whole point with the link sharing. You have to open your brain to many different things and investigate them. It’s the primary time when you can develop those ideas and habits for the rest of your life.

So what happened to Del.icio.us?

Yahoo, who owned Del.icio.us, accidentally leaked a slide about their plans to “sunset” Del.icio.us late in 2010. Immediately almost everyone using it was done and left.

At that time, John Michael was working at Rhizome, and I was trying to be an artist. We started talking about what a platform would be like that could replace Del.icio.us, or replace our community that we had found on Del.icio.us.

Del.icio.us made us realize the importance of archiving casual web (and other) research. That process has a lot of positive effects that are hard to explain until you’ve built a habit out of it. For one, there’s a self-discovery that happens when you revisit things you’ve accumulated over a period of time. You look back and begin to recognize patterns in your own thinking.”



“Would you describe Are.na as a start-up?

Yeah, I think that’s the easiest shorthand. When we started looking for funding, we were also looking at grants and institutional models. However, we realized there’s a time cost to applying to those things, and the money is much less.

With the way some venture capitalists market themselves now, we started feeling like there’s common ground we could have with certain firms, where it’s more about long-term goals and less about shorter-term, explosive growth.

One of these common grounds is the current state of social media. Any normal person, at some point, will complain about what social media addiction has done to them.

My take is that it boils down to bad business models. If it’s going to be explosive growth first, and then you’ve got to tack on something to make money afterwards, it’s always going to be advertising. That’s always going to be terrible because it means that in order to keep going, you have to keep people coming back as many times as possible. In other words, you’re motivated to make people addicted. And yes, venture capitalists are partially responsible for this. But now, it’s clear that people are getting sick of this situation. Most people you talk to are simply done with it, and smart venture capitalists can see this shift as well.

So in terms of having the start-up as a model or using that term as a way to frame ourselves—yes, it’s the easiest way to explain to someone on first meeting what we are doing. But we are also trying to build community and culture, and we are motivated to make that as big as we possibly can because we want to give a real alternative to an everyday person as to what one can do on the social internet.

Maybe “providing an alternative,” isn’t the best way to phrase it. We’re not only interested in what that thing could look like—but what the primary activity could be.”
are.na  accretion  time  charlesbroskoski  2017  laurelschwulst  revisiting  collection  collecting  del.icio.us  opensource  artsy  socialmedia  online  internet  web 
6 days ago by robertogreco
The Mother as a Creator
"The Mother is like an artist doing her work while calling upon her own wisdom. The Mother not only creates a life, but also creates continually a continuous and fluid matrix of experience between Mother and Child.

Motherhood is a long-term process with a complex weaving of experiences. This wholeness and complexity cannot be expressed solely by the generally accepted saccharine image of Mother and Child, nor by the other extreme - the image of the Mother Incarnate, who willing sacrifices herself for the good of her children. All of these stereotypical representations of Motherhood are for me a long and tedious harangue, something I have tried to avoid in my life from the very beginning.

For this reason and become I believe in the parity between Motherhood and artistic creativity, I attempt to combine the role of mother and artist while trying to represent this fusion with an interlocked series of works expressing, at first hand, the experience of Motherhood.

Here I take a family photograph each year of my son and myself, and then the next year, take another image of us in front of the previous picture. Therefore, different layers of my son and I emerge on the same surface after a lengthy accumulation of detail and texture. Different stages of my son and I are overlaid; and from the different pictures we have created dialogue with each other in this dimension upon compressed dimension. From within these dimensions will emerge a new depiction/visualization of Motherhood.

This time-tunnel artwork has recorded my different experience of Motherhood and the relationship between my son and I for seventeen years. By doing so, it is easy to compare and observe our growth and development. The most important is that these representations will keep going to use our life and time to undermine the inflexible and stereotypical conventions of Motherhood which in their idealizations seek to allow only a single shallow plane of experience."

[via: https://kottke.org/19/01/the-layers-of-motherhood ]
anniewang  time  motherhood  photography  families  timelapse  accretion  timelines 
january 2019 by robertogreco
My website is a shifting house next to a river of knowledge. What could yours be? – The Creative Independent
"The web is what we make it

While an individual website could be any of those metaphors I mentioned above, I believe the common prevailing metaphor—the internet as cloud—is problematic. The internet is not one all-encompassing, mysterious, and untouchable thing. (In early patent drawings depicting the internet, it appears as related shapes: a blob, brain, or explosion.) These metaphors obfuscate the reality that the internet is made up of individual nodes: individual computers talking to other individual computers.

[image]

The World Wide Web recently turned 29. On the web’s birthday, Tim Berners Lee, its creator, published a letter stating the web’s current state of threat. He says that while it’s called the “World Wide Web,” only about half the world is connected, so we should close this digital divide.

But at the same time, Berners Lee wants to make sure this thing we’re all connecting to is truly working for us, as individuals: “I want to challenge us all to have greater ambitions for the web. I want the web to reflect our hopes and fulfill our dreams, rather than magnify our fears and deepen our divisions.”

[image]

“Metaphor unites reason and imagination,” says George Lakoff and Mark Johnson in their book, Metaphors We Live By (1980). “Metaphors are not merely things to be seen beyond. In fact, one can see beyond them only by using other metaphors. It is as though the ability to comprehend experience through metaphor were a sense, like seeing or touching or hearing, with metaphors providing the only ways to perceive and experience much of the world. Metaphor is as much a part of our functioning as our sense of touch, and as precious.”

Instead of a cloud, let’s use a metaphor that makes the web’s individual, cooperative nodes more visible. This way, we can remember the responsibility we each have in building a better web. The web is a flock of birds or a sea of punctuation marks, each tending or forgetting about their web garden or puddle home with a river of knowledge nearby.

If a website has endless possibilities, and our identities, ideas, and dreams are created and expanded by them, then it’s instrumental that websites progress along with us. It’s especially pressing when forces continue to threaten the web and the internet at large. In an age of information overload and an increasingly commercialized web, artists of all types are the people to help. Artists can think expansively about what a website can be. Each artist should create their own space on the web, for a website is an individual act of collective ambition."
laurelschwulst  knowledge  webdev  webdesign  internet  web  online  2018  websites  design  flexibility  purpose  creativity  learning  howwelearn  accumulation  accretion  making  murmurations  metaphor  clouds  birds  georgelakoff  markjohnson  completeness  unfinished  wonder  fredrogers  storage  archives  html 
may 2018 by robertogreco
William Kentridge Interview: How We Make Sense of the World - YouTube
""There is a desperation in al certainty. The category of political uncertainty, philosophical uncertainty, uncertainty of images is much closer to how the world is", says South African artist William Kentridge in this video presenting his work.

"The films come out of a need to make an image, an impulse to make a film, and the meaning emerges over the months of the making of the film. The only meaning they have in advance is the need for the film to exist".

William Kentridge (b. 1955) is South Africa's most important contemporary artist, best known for his prints, drawings and animated films. In this video he presents his work, his way of working and his philosophy.

He tells the story of how he failed to be an artist:

"I failed at painting, I failed at acting, I failed at film making, so I discovered at the age of 30 I was back making drawings". It was not until he told himself he was an artist with all he wanted to included in the term - that he felt he was on the right track. "It took me a long time to unlearn the advice I had been giving. For for me the only hope was the cross fertilization between the different medias and genres."

William Kentridge talks about the origin of his animated films with drawing in front of the camera. "I was interested in seeing how a drawing would come into being". "It was from the charcoal drawing that the process of animation expanded". With charcoal "you can change a drawing as quickly as you can think".

"I am interested in showing the process of thinking. The way that one constructs a film out of these fragments that one reinterprets retrospectively - and changes the time of - is my sense of how we make sense of the world. And so the animated films can be a demonstration of how we make sense of the world rather than an instruction about what the world means."

"Uncertainty is an essential category. As soon as one gets certain their voice gets louder, more authoritarian and authoritative and to defend themselves they will bring an army and guns to stand next to them to hold. There is a desperation in al certainty. The category of political uncertainty, philosophical uncertainty, uncertainty of images is much closer to how the world is. That is also related to provisionality, to the fact that you can see the world as a series of facts or photographs or you can see it as a process of unfolding. Where the same thing in a different context has a very different meaning or very different form."

"I learned much more from the theatre school in Paris, Jacques Lecoq, a school of movement and mime, than I ever did from the art lessons. It is about understanding the way of thinking through the body. Making art is a practical activity. It is not sitting at a computer. It is embodying an idea in a physical material, paper, charcoal, steal, wood."

William Kentridge will work on a piece not knowing if it will come out as a dead end or a piece of art, giving it the benefit of the doubt, not judging it in advance, he says.

The artist has been compared to Buster Keaton and Gerorge Méliès. He mentions Hogarth, Francis Bacon, Manet, Philip Guston, Picasso, the Dadaists, Samuel Beckett and Mayakovski as inspirations.

"I am considered a political artist by some people and as a non-political artist by other political artists. I am interested in the politics of certainty and the demagoguery of certainty and the fragility of making sense of the world", William Kentridge states.

This video shows different excerpts from the work: 'The Journey to the Moon' (2003), 'The Refusal of Time' (2012) 'What Will Come (has already come)' (2007).

William Kentridge was interviewed by Christian Lund at the Deutsche Staatstheater in Hamburg in January 2014 in connection with the performance of the stage version of 'The Refusal of Time', called 'Refuse The Hour'."
williamkentridge  art  thinking  uncertainty  certainty  artists  provisionality  busterkeaton  georgeméliès  christianlund  therefusaloftime  accretion  process  making  filmmaking  philosophy  sensemaking  makingsense  unlearning  howework  howwethink  authoritarianism  chance  fortune  unschooling  deschooling  unknowing  hogarth  francisbacon  manet  philipguston  picasso  samuelbeckett  mayakovski 
december 2016 by robertogreco
How do you start to live your life at (nearly) 40? — Medium
"It was the accretion of a thousand small choices made out of fear that led me here, not some cataclysmic mistake. That’s the thing about avoiding life: each tiny evasion builds upon the last, gradually calcifying into a kind of defensive crust so that, from the outside, you appear to have the same patina of wear and tear as everyone else, but underneath, you are hollow, brittle, incomplete. What I am primarily left with now is regret, which comes in waves of self-reproach, each missed opportunity or refusal playing out in my memory in excruciating detail.

Still, I haven’t yet abandoned hope. Undoing a lifetime of evasion will be no easy task, but I’m not resigning myself to this misery and nothing more. (Therapy is helping.) It is a strange thing, though, to start thinking about what you actually want from life at an age when, inevitably, it dawns on you it has an end, too. Though I lived for far too long in an extended adolescence, with it came the persistently hopeful idea that it wasn’t too late to change. Now, the time I have left to become the kind of person I want to be is, in a way that feels strangely sudden, running out."

*

My dissertation was on something I called The Holographic Self. In it, the eponymous hologram is an expression of a desire to exceed the limitations of subject position, and I located that yearning in the logics of digitality. As a piece of writing, it is plodding and too earnest by half, but as is the case with much academic work, it is also surreptitiously autobiographical. There I was, spending years in front of a laptop, letting my life slip by, while writing about how we project the desire for our idealized selves into the digital.

So in this particular, rather long-winded narrative, this is where I think I’m supposed to tell you that I’ve made peace with my wasted life, and I’m ready to become that new person — to actualize my holographic longing. But I can’t. There is, unfortunately, always a naively optimistic dimension to writing about How One Is Going To Make One’s Life Better™. It often ends up being a performance of the way you want things to go, and in reality, they never quite work out in so neat a manner. (I still haven’t had that coffee.) [https://medium.com/hack-grow-love/the-trouble-with-pleasure-867f729a9d29#.gm7ekw2kh ]

One thing I am clear on, though? I don’t regret finishing that godforsaken PhD. I still don’t know about starting it, mind you; you’ll have to check with me on my deathbed. But I stuck to it, and at the end I had a glass of something sparkling and I felt like I deserved it. I felt great, in fact. I think that’s an equation I’m actually pretty happy about: write 400 pages over five years and at the end, you get a single flute of Crémant d’Alsace, and for once, a feeling like you actually fucking did something.

I don’t quite know how to start living at 40. I mean, obviously I have some rough ideas, and not all of them succumb to the aggressively “normal” version of life I’ve laid out thus far; I don’t really care that much about brunch. I do know, however, that the next step is not as simple as merely accepting that I have lived the life I have lived. That isn’t enough. My regrets are still too large, yet too numerous for me to simply lay them to rest.

But when you’ve spent a lifetime hiding from everything, beginning and then finishing something hard — and then enjoying the rewards — is at the very least, a step in the right direction. And the PhD took the form of one of the few things that gives me comfort and (fine, I’ll say it) that I’m good at: taking ideas, and shaping them into sentences and paragraphs that, sometimes, other people find interesting to read.

At the very least, one can take that life, those aimless, spent years, and put an aesthetic frame around both them and the ideas and perspective they have produced — and hopefully, occasionally say something pretty or profound. It’s not much. And in truth, it may not be enough. I guess I just like the self-reflexivity of it all: write out how you’re trying to make things better, and you end up making things better by writing it out. So, with few other options, I will put one word in front of the other, and see what happens.
And here at the end, after choosing for so long to barely live at all, isn’t that, if nothing else, a start?"
navneetalang  2016  writing  regret  life  living  accretion  hope  avoidance  evasion 
march 2016 by robertogreco
The Untapped Creativity of the Chinese Internet | VICE | United States
"[image]

Somewhere in mainland China, a kid in the grips of puppy love posts one of those raw, unmediated posts so saccharine it's both unbearably endearing and ridiculously funny. It's so completely melodramatic that other users stumble across the post and begin adding their own feelings and thoughts, remixing it to be even funnier. The words are skewed, images and music added, and finally uploaded to Bilibili.com, where users overlay their own comments onto the video in real-time.

The resulting GIFs, poems, videos, and comments spread through the Chinese internet on Sina Weibo and WeChat in a flurry of color and flashing animations. This is So in love, w​ill never feel tired again, an online exhibition of work by Chinese new media and net artist Yin​​g Miao, and it serves as a counterpoint to the West's view of the Chinese internet as bland and heavily censored. Despite all that I've been told in the West, the internet here looks incredibly fun and vibrant to me.

[image]

"The Chinese internet is really raw," Miao tells me. "It's so unlimited but also limited. It's really rich material." We are sitting in a café with our laptops open in downtown Beijing, a brief bike ride from Tiananmen Square. Miao is walking me through her artwork in preparation for the launch of the online exhibition series Ne​tizenet. Miao impresses upon me the depth of creativity on the Chinese internet, showing how memes emerge and morph across platforms and ideologies and around censorship.

While I'm becoming accustomed to relying on my VPN or Tor to use boringly functional sites like Gmail, Miao is taking me on an unblocked tour of her inspirations, the wildest and weirdest of the Chinese internet from behind the so-called Great Firewall. Here, everything can be remixed and .GIFs are always welcomed. Conversations on WeChat (the most popular messaging platform here) are an endless stream of reaction .GIFs that put Tumblr to shame.

[image]

In the series, LAN Love Poem, Miao explores her complicated feelings around the Chinese web. LAN stands for local area network and is suggestive of the localized nature of the internet, in both law and culture, that we in the West are rarely confronted with. Miao uses type inspired by Taobao.com (a site akin to eBay) and intentionally poor English translations of odes to her censored net.

The extreme creativity and vibrancy on the Chinese internet is hard to grasp as a Westerner who is a devout defender of free speech. My ignorance of Miao's raw material, and the many other aspects of Chinese net culture that are difficult to grasp is what Netizienet (or 网友网 in Mandarin and Wǎngyǒuwǎng in Pinyin) is all about.

[image]

Using NewHive, a multimedia publishing platform, Netizenet will examine the internet as a medium from within China, an internet very different from what I grew up with in the States. Through an ongoing series of online exhibitions by Chinese and international artists--of which Miao is the first--Netizenet asks important questions about creativity, differing online aesthetics, and location-based web access. Is the Chinese internet uniquely different from the rest of the world's, or does every country's web have its own unique aesthetics and traits?

The curator behind Netizenet is Michelle Proksell, an independent curator, researcher, and artist currently based in Beijing. Proksell was born in Saudi Arabia to expatriate American parents, and moved to the United States when the Gulf War was starting. Proksell loved traveling through Asia as a kid and this is why she eventually returned and has lived in China for over two years.

Proksell sees a ton of potential in Beijing and Shanghai for the arts, especially net art, and wants to help cultivate the scene. She was fascinated by how the Chinese internet influenced Miao's "artistic aesthetic, process and production," writing that Miao "has a bit of a love affair with the kitschy, low-tech aesthetic, and unreliable nature of this part of the [world wide web.]" ​

[image]

Miao is one of the few net artists in mainland China. She and Proksell have adopted the monumental task of helping to encourage a net art discourse in a country of over 620 million internet users as well as introducing that culture to the West. Proksell tells me, "I really wanted to set a tone for the project by working with an artist who had been intimate with this side of the web early in her art practice."

Miao has certainly been exploring the aesthetics and issues of access in the internet in her work for some time. In 2007, for her undergrad thesis exhibition at the China Academy of Fine Arts near Shanghai, Miao made The Blind Spot, which meticulously documented every word blocked from Google.cn. The piece took Miao three months to make and is a brilliant DIY version of Jason Q. Ng's work documenting blocked words on the popular Chinese social network Sina Weibo. But Miao has no interest in only focusing on the limitations of the Chinese internet, believing there are much more fascinating things underway.

For instance, iPhone Garbage is an incredible convergence of Chinese manufacturing, social media, and ​Shanzhai (slang for pirated and fake goods) culture. A heavily remixed video shows a young entrepreneur aggressively promoting his custom smartphone while continually calling the iPhone "garbage." In Miao's work we see a pushback on Western aesthetics and corporations in favor of a more local flavor.

[image]

Miao suggests that the emerging narrative of Shanzhai might be replicated in net art in China. At first Shanzhai referred only to cheap knockoffs that rarely worked and were an annoying thorn in "legitimate" companies' sides. Now, as Joi Ito has found, Shanzhai merchants are beginning to build entirely unique hardware, offering entirely different capabilities than their Western smartphone counterparts. Miao believes too that Chinese net culture should embrace their differences and push them as far as possible.

In an int​erv​iew between Miao and Proksell, Miao said, "I think there is a bright future for Chinese internet art." Proksell and Miao have an uphill battle proving that to the West, but just as I had never seen many of Miao's influences, this culture is emerging with or without the West's acknowledgement or support. Whether that appreciation comes or not, Netizenet is off to an amazing start and I for one will definitely keep my eyes open for the next show and on Miao."
via:unthinkingly  aesthetic  newaesthetic  internet  web  china  online  accretion  beijing  netart  netizenet  byob  michelleproksell  lanlovepoem  yingmao  newmedia  benvalentine  tumblr  newvibe  gifs  memes  poetry  poems  sinaweibo  weibo  wechat  animation  screenshots  low-techaesthetic  changzhai  socialmedia  joiito  2014  webrococo  newhive 
december 2015 by robertogreco
The Ever Increasing Burden on America’s Public Schools (Print Version) | Jamie Vollmer
[via: http://shawncornally.com/wordpress/?p=4090 ]

"This is a story about America and America’s public schools. Specifically, it’s about how we, as a society, have changed what we ask our public schools to do. How we respond to this story will affect everyone’s future whether or not we have children in school.

America’s first schools appeared in the early 1640s. They were designed to teach young people—originally, white boys—basic reading, writing, and arithmetic while cultivating values that served a new democratic society. The founders of these schools assumed that families and churches bore the major responsibility for raising a child. During the 1700s, some civics, history, science, and geography were introduced, but the curriculum was limited and remained focused for 150 years.

By the beginning of the twentieth century, however, America’s leaders saw public schools as the logical place to select and sort young people into two groups—thinkers and doers—according to the needs of the industrial age. It was at this time that we began to shift non-academic duties to the schools. The trend has accelerated ever since.

[Each item in this next section is an expandable list.]

From 1900 to 1910, we shifted to the school responsibilities related to:.
From 1910 to 1930, we added:.
In the 1940s, we added:.
In the 1950s, we added:.
In the 1960s, we added:.
In the 1970s, the breakup of the American family accelerated,
and we added:.
In the 1980s, the floodgates opened, and we added:.
In the 1990s, we added:.
In the first decade of the twenty-first century, we added:.

And we have not added a single minute to the school calendar in six decades!
The contract between our communities and our schools has changed. It’s no longer “Help us teach our children.” It’s “Raise our kids.” No generation of teachers and administrators in history has had to fulfill this mandate. And each year, the pressure grows.

Social and economic conditions demand that we unfold the full potential of every child. Our futures are tied to their success as never before.But this is a job for all of us. Everyone, in every community, must help remove the obstacles to student success. We must recognize our common interests, and do our part to help our schools create the graduates and citizens we need. Our schools cannot do it alone."
education  policy  additive  additivemeasures  accretion  jamievollmer  schools  teaching  curriculum  history  catchalls  publicschools 
february 2015 by robertogreco
Russell Davies: things that have happened
"A small mental collection I have: Posters Caused By Things That Have Happened.

I first noticed it at one of those storage places, like Big Yellow Storage. There was a poster on the wall warning you of all the things you were not allowed to do in your storage unit. Sleep, run a business, keep goats, grow mushrooms. And I realised that the poster was really a record of all the things that people must once have done, which then needed to be banned. 

The signs at the Grindleford Station Cafe are the same. Every incident causes a sign. 

I mention it because Chris pointed out another on twitter:

[image: "Carrying fish is not allowed on metro" ]"

[via: https://twitter.com/undermanager/status/543047845402914816 ]
rules  accretion  rulecreep  featurecreep  unfeaturecreep  2014 
december 2014 by robertogreco
The Journey West (East of Borneo)
"Coming from New York we found all this both exhilarating and baffling; Los Angeles seemed to be a city hiding in plain sight. There was plenty to see, interesting people to talk to, all easily accessible by the sporadically flowing freeway. But that veneer of easy connectivity masked a deeper, and more troubling, sense that nothing was easily available, a misleading perception of nothing going on. This was a city of outposts and easily missed landmarks connected by a sprawling, historical disposition not to connect; a deeply unsociable city – not unfriendly, just unsociable, the opposite of places like New York or Paris with their gabby rush to embrace and discard. When we left Los Angeles we had some ideas for future articles, but we didn’t have a satisfying grasp on the place.

REALLIFE Magazine was very much the project of a walk-around city. We had an editorial point of view, which was that we wanted to provide a forum for younger artists who saw themselves operating in a post-conceptual landscape, with an interest in connecting to issues of everyday life. That is to say we were still working in the shadow of a well-known history, a narrative of progress and upset that we tended to accept as more or less given. The wrinkle in that acceptance was an ever-present conviction that the somatic experiments of Surrealism held out a lot more promise than our more academic peers allowed. Our editorial process had a trajectory, but it was one easily, and willingly, sent off track by an interesting chance encounter. We sought openness within a structure framed by opinion, and sought that through the old-fashioned networking of the street. Los Angeles proved fatal to this method, and the magazine came to an end shortly after the two of us moved here in the early ’90s.

In 2002, after a ten-year break from the business side of art magazines, I joined the editorial team of Afterall, a self-described “journal of art, context and enquiry” that had begun as a counterweight to the market-driven art talk prevalent in London in the ’90s, and that maintained a purposefully old-school attitude to the idea of the art journal as something deliberately out of time. The founders, an artist and a curator, designed an editorial process that took the form of a twice-yearly seminar to discover the most interesting artists to discuss. When they invited me to join them, the idea was to expand this method; investigating international art from two separate but simultaneous perspectives, that of London and Los Angeles. For several years this proved to be a rich, intense, and very productive experiment. And then an intellectual exhaustion set in and the project drifted into an ill-defined state of ennui. Paradoxically the root of this exhaustion was our lack of rootedness; in a fundamental way the journal had no point of view, only a premise. Unmoored in the jet stream, our two bases separated, buffeted by argument without end.

In the 21st century the ramifications of this rootlessness and the practical challenges facing publishing began to require ever more radical responses. The small bookstores that had once supported small magazines were closing at an increasing rate. Museums were turning their bookstores into gift shops. Fluctuations in the currency markets made it increasingly difficult to budget production costs in an international context, and then the huge economic crash made everything impossible. But the biggest challenge of all was the Internet, which manages to make everything simultaneously local and international. When Susan and I were publishing REALLIFE Magazine we had a substantial subscriber base, a much larger figure across the United States than Afterall ever achieved, despite significant institutional backing. But of course before the Internet, people had to subscribe to little magazines if they wanted to keep up-to-date, whereas now we inhabit the complex world of websites, blogs, aggregators and Twitter feeds, and can keep informed by the instant.

What this all suggested to me was that what an art publication could be now was something both more participatory and more traditionally edited. I still believe that people may actually like some editorial guidance – the most successful blogs seem to be the most opinionated. But these blogs tend to a linear, one-thing-after-the-other format that runs counter to the open horizontality of communication offered up by the hyperlink. Discussions flare, and can become engrossing, but they tend to be one-dimensional, focused on one issue at a time. I found I was hungering for a more complex participation. As a writer I have become accustomed to working in a way that allows skipping back and forth as a text builds, checking references, finding new evidence as a result of lateral moves across the Internet. A few online publications allow readers a similarly multifaceted experience, although most quarantine reader participation in the shadow zone reserved for comments. Until now no art publication has offered this kind of experience.

As you navigate the site today you will discover that East of Borneo incorporates the benefits of online media not only for timely art-related content, but also for lively dialogues and the sharing and distribution of research and archival material. Our articles incorporate and offer the materials—video, audio, links and texts—that the author drew from. Users can upload their own relevant contributions, creating a growing archive of associated content. Topics will develop depth over time as material accrues, becoming substantial repositories of information and interpretation.

What we imagined was an intricately interwoven site that would allow us to build an archive of Los Angeles, past and present, using the power of a networked collectivity to create depth and complexity. To some Web 2.0 is old news, but established magazines are only slowly awakening to its challenges and possibilities. East of Borneo’s genesis has been long and deliberative: several years of thinking past the delights and constraints of the printed page, and one very intense year of thinking through the actual possibilities of current online publication.

I am tremendously proud and excited about all this, and hope you will share my enthusiasm. Visit us often to watch the site grow in both content and interactivity as we roll out further features. Visit us often to upload that telling image, indispensible text, incredible link. Join us on this journey."
eastofborneo  losangeles  thomaslawson  art  history  2010  artjournalism  journalism  1980  publishing  online  linear  onlinemedia  epublishing  bookstores  cities  urbanism  nyc  urban  accretion  interpretation  internet  howwework  archives  networks  networkedcollectivity  collectivity  depth  complexity  howwewrite  howwethink  linearity 
august 2014 by robertogreco
The Long Game Part 1: Why Leonardo DaVinci was no genius on Vimeo
"All of history’s biggest achievers found success in exactly the same way, and it’s the complete opposite to how we think today. This video essay reveals the hidden secret to creativity through the life story of Leonardo da Vinci."

[Part 2: https://vimeo.com/87448006 ]

"This missing chapter in the story of success reveals the secret to doing meaningful work. But in the modern world, full of distraction, do we have what it takes to do great things?

The second in a two-part series about creativity."

[See also: http://delve.tv/the-long-game-part-one/ ]
latebloomers  persistence  via:rushtheiceberg  2014  history  youth  age  practice  success  leonardodavinci  slow  longterm  accretion 
may 2014 by robertogreco
The Pantograph Punch — A House of One’s Own: Building The DOGBOX
"The three of us had met at Victoria University’s architecture school in Wellington, where we’d arrived from various parts of the North Island – Tim from Whangarei, Ben from Whanganui and me from rural Taranaki. Over the five years we spent studying together, we discovered that although our degree taught us about the process of building, there wasn’t much actual building involved. None at all, really.

This isn’t true of all architecture schools. There are some with incredible design-build programmes. One of the most well-known is The Rural Studio, where students work on projects in a low socioeconomic community – with that community – trying to battle the myth that good design is something for the wealthy. New Zealand’s best example is Unitec’s programme, simply because they incorporate some actual building into their degree.

That’s not to say that there’s no building at all at Victoria. The First Light House, which was entered into the Solar Decathlon competition in Washington in 2011, was a Victoria University project, involving a group of students from architecture, interior architecture and marketing. In this case, the house was prefabricated in a workshop in six modules and transported to Washington, where it was assembled in seven days.

But for most students that went through our school, you emerge knowing how a building goes together – in theory – but without any experience of the reality of that process. That’s true of the profession, too. An architect’s involvement in the building process is to monitor construction onsite and check that it’s coming together as designed and documented. That involvement gives you an understanding of building, but its’ a very different understanding from the one gained by physically building something – hence the stereotypically acrimonious relationship between builders and architects. Sure, there are architects that build. But they’re the exception."



"The house is not attempting to ‘speak’ of anything – it’s not a symbol or metaphor for something else, and we haven’t post-rationalised a conceptual starting point. The design began with those first objects, and expanded around a multitude of other intertwined concerns. We were concerned with efficiency – spatially, structurally, financially, and environmentally. We wanted to make the most of the sites features and work within its constraints. We wanted to create something comfortable and warm. We considered materials – as much as possible incorporating timbers that didn’t require chemical treatments or paint finishes, and would continue to smell beautiful throughout the life of the house. We thought about colour – and made a unanimous decision to avoid the boring beige and mushroom palette seen all too frequently. And of course, we thought about construction, knowing that we would be physically assembling this design.

We coined the term ‘agri-chic’ to describe the design. To summarise something with mixture of tough and refined elements. The practical and the beautiful.

It was also nice to have a phrase to offer up when asked if it was an ‘eco-bach’ – a term which has slipped into popular usage, and covers such a huge range of possibilities as to be almost meaningless."



"We learnt that tradesmen (I say tradesmen because they are mostly men) are incredibly knowledgeable, and only too happy to pass on that knowledge if you ask. Don, a local concrete placer, floated the concrete slab for us, and taught us a few tricks about working with concrete. It’s just like baking, he said – and then proved it with both neenish tarts and lolly cake. We had a plumber and an electrician who obligingly delivered boxes of supplies and gave us lessons in the basics of their trades. They would return to check on us, answer our questions, and take care of the tricky bits. Arbs, a welder who we found in Whanganui’s industrial zone whipping up playground equipment, helped us with our steel work. He let us take over his workshop and use his gear. He welded for us on the weekends.

Dan at the local mill turned our piles of Trade Me timber into floorboards and cladding. He found some Totara beams ‘lying around out the back’ for us when we jokingly asked if he had anything like that. Tony and the others in Mitre 10′s trade department, who started out thinking we were a strange curiousity, ‘boho-builders’, nonetheless took us seriously – tactfully checking we had things under control by phrasing their advice as questions.

It’s hard to convey how generous all of these people (and many others) were – with their time, their gear, their knowledge, and their patience with us. We might have been novice builders, but we were also demanding perfectionists, watching like hawks when other people were working with us on our project.

We learnt that building is just one thing after another. And all of those things slowly add up."
homes  newzealand  architecture  design  construction  sallyogle  building  accretion  whanganui 
may 2014 by robertogreco
The Internet: A Welcome Distraction - NYTimes.com
"I work via slow accretions of often seemingly unrelated stuff. When I complete that unwieldy, puzzling first draft, I spread it out on the desk like a soothsayer viewing entrails, and try to find patterns. If asked, I might pretty up my process and call it bricolage or intellectual scrapbooking, but it really is merely the result of a magpie mind/brain, one that flits from one shiny thing to another. While I still work in my plodding way, the ever renewing bits of information in my Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr feeds provide endless fodder, like going shell collecting on the beach on a normal day versus the day after a hurricane when the ocean has burped up every interesting bit of stuff imaginable.

What keeps my writing process slow is not the Web, but the need to spend so much time circling a scene or a character, trying to get it in a form that reflects what I see in my mind. The payoff often comes when some trifle — say, an article on Inuit recipes for fermented salmon heads — that I’ve clicked on for no discernible reason, can years later  become the perfect thing for a character musing on his long-ago romantic summer job in a cannery in Alaska. And while I still have epiphanic moments while staring out my window like a proper author, or am inspired by a long article in the New York Review of Books, I am just as often prompted by a random bit I’ve gleaned on a friend’s Twitter feed as it speeds by, or the latest ha-ha list from BuzzFeed.

It became my guilty secret that a foray into Wikipedia, Gawker, Twitter and even eBay (an absolute font of consumer and postconsumer culture) could set my mind rolling. Seemingly unrelated bits, like what looks like random bumps on a player-piano roll, would, when put in the right part of my brain, create actual music."



"Especially in this technical age, the tools a writer has to work with change almost daily — today the Internet, tomorrow nanobot implants for the brain. But I believe the process stays essentially the same. William Gibson suggests that in order to produce one’s most creative work, writers need to learn to cultivate their “personal micro culture,” an acquired sense of what feels right to the artist, rather than an emulation of others’ work. So while many writers I admire practice Internet abstinence, I accept that my nature is more restless and creatively promiscuous. I was, therefore, delighted to learn that my salmon-head-fermenting friends the Inuits call the “Internet,” ikiaqqivik, which in Inuktitut means, roughly, “traveling through layers,” a word they use to describe what their shamans do in finding answers.

Henry James thought George Eliot, with her sharp eye for the twisty hierarchies of social manners, was one of the best British writers of her time, but he criticized her for what he thought were the overlapping, excessive, and broken plots in “Middlemarch.” I think she would have loved Facebook."
mariemyung-oklee  2013  attention  writing  twitter  facebiook  socialnetworking  internet  distraction  accretion  howwewrite 
november 2013 by robertogreco

Copy this bookmark:





to read