Another Movie

So I decided to make another movie. This one is more depressing, but I was able to play with (bad) audio. I also wanted to try a "short form." Originally, I wanted only two images. But I couldn't really do it, and keep the integrity of the message.

The words? Stuck in my mind from 8th grade, when we did a social studies unit on the 60s. No one ever said anything about the words that titled the packet we got, but they've been with me since.

Enjoy.

The Miscellany of Movie(Maker)

After having made a movie with MovieMaker (iMovie), I have to say that I love it -- even more than I love PhotoShop. The whole idea of making a MOVIE -- a film, perhaps? -- intrigues and fascinates me! Maybe it's because I love the visual medium/a. I'm not sure why. But I loved playing with it, and I will continue to explore this form of critique as I think about my own projects/scholarship in the future.

Now, Weinberger's idea that everything is miscellaneous makes even more sense. I took images and photographs from Flickr (which I searched by their tags, using the terms "ipods," "cell phones," "Apple," and "black and white"), and collected them miscellaneously. Yet, as Weinberger says, I made the connection(s) among them clear as I wished.

It makes me think that a lot more things are miscellaneous, and I'm really intrigued about the power of the miscellaneous now. I still think that his vision is too idyllic, but it can and does have potential for resistance, or maintaining the status quo. Perhaps maintaining the status quo on the Internet might actually be revolutionary, in its own ironic way?

In any case, MovieMaker rules. And it makes me feel "deep." Right now, I feel more like a critic than I ever have. Weird, huh?

What the Eye Sees

My first movie! I tried to juxtapose images of black and white technology (based on Nakamura's viewpoint). I wanted to see what this would look like. So, I made it into a movie! Even the images at the beginning, that show technology, show it in black and white. Then, I suggest that this is because the eye sees it this way. Finally, I ask the question what would black and white look like (if it weren't the eye seeing it)? The answer to this question, of course, is not fully achieved by the images/clips in the film, since we have no way of getting out of our perceptions.

And, I felt I had to use titles. Anne, if this is a problem, I'll cut them out.

Enjoy!

Response to _Everything is Miscellaneous_

Maybe I shouldn't love Weinberger's Everything is Miscellaneous, since I'm an academic and "academics aren't supposed to love (more) popular books." Neither are academics "supposed" to like scholarship that does not take a highly critical (or reflexive) stance toward the ideas they are reporting. After all, wasn't this the crux of my criticism of Lisa Nakamura?

In spite of my initial, short-lived skepticism, and my status as an academic, I love Weinberger's book. The book does have quite a few problems in terms of diction (sometimes I found myself cringing at his phraseology), and I'm not quite sure I agree with his finite distinctions among "orders of order"; I wanted him to present more discussion of where and how these terms function. And he does seem more than obviously hopeful about the potential of the internet to bridge community and social barriers toward a truly "miscellaneous" body of knowledges, which I am not sure I buy or believe is possible. Reference: last week's discussion, for example.

But, overall, I am willing to overlook these issues because the ideas he discusses (how knowledge is structured and the ways in which physical/material space limits, and contributes, to knowledge) fascinate me. Little things like card catalogs or, for us, meaningless numbers on products signify a whole world of non-miscellaneous knowledge for Weinberger, which in turn has played a key role in determining such things like "what is a product?" or "what counts as a book."

Among the various fascinating things Weinberger discusses, his report on Wikipedia was particularly interesting for me. Why? Because of this sneaky little term Wikipedia uses, called "neutrality." Readers, note that at this point I am neither faulting WP or Weinberger; I am just exploring the potential of this term. For me, "neutrality" is somewhat problematic, as might be expected, since I believe that no knowledge can be neutral. Unlike Wales, who "is not interested in French philosophy," I am. However, I'm intrigued by how Wales -- the founder of WP -- dismisses this as "not" a political or "philosophical" term.

The community of WP allows and enables "neutrality" because it encourages readers/writers to constantly edit the entries. Weinberger details how WP readers might annotate the entries in favor of words that more suit their interests/beliefs. His best example is of John Kerry's medals: whether they are "combat" medals or "service" medals. While one might suggest that "medals" works better than either "service" or "combat," or even that it's irrelevant whether he won medals at all, at the same time this kind of collaboration -- what Weinberger calls "democracy of knowledge" -- showcases the beauty of websites like this one and subverts authoritative structures.

I totally dig this, since I didn't know readers of WP could do this. I didn't know that they could read comments, etc, or add sentences about controversies that allow other readers more insight. I am even going to develop a lesson plan for my ENG 101 class based on writing communities and decisions from WP. But somehow, Wales' assertion that a page is "neutral" when readers stop changing it just doesn't sit well with me.

And here's why: it's all about the effect. Our class discussion on Thursday made clear the power of continued effect on viewers. In our case, then, WP readers might not realize the constructed (and, in some cases, highly contested) nature/origin of WP entries. Additionally, Weinberger's analysis does not account for the more "savvy" user who does not participate in, or see, the additions. In short, it's about use. That is, if a user is looking on WP for something specific, the knowledge will, most likely anyway, be valuable for various purposes, and since the medium calls for a transactional use (you look something up, you find the info, and then you move on), more sustained scrutiny is generally not built into the "WP gaze." Of course, this might be because a lot of things on there are already "neutral" -- at least per Wales'/WP's standards -- and thus might not require a more critical glance.

At the same time, though, the very fact that WP can be used continually in this way, proves that, just like the relentless barrage of (seemingly) insignificant images/articles from People create an effect of passivity, WP might/can/does encourage a similar passive or, at least, acritical stance toward the information. The effect of "neutrality" in entries, then, engenders more acritical looking/ viewing/searching on other pages. This brings up the question of whether we should be critical of everything in front of us, which obviously takes time, as well as the question of what to do when we need "quick" knowledge -- can't we just take it and go?!?

Of course. When you need it, you need it. I'm not saying we should have our critical helmets on at all points; sometimes, we just need to know, quickly, who the 33rd President of the US was, the first woman doctor, or the history behind the Magna Carta. And Weinberger does a great job of demonstrating that the connections between "facts" or "pieces of knowledge" and how they are used, play out in the "third order of order." He's right, in this case, that the internet makes all kinds of connections possible for all kinds of reasons; it's the use to which knowledge is put that makes the difference. But, back to the idea of WP and the "myth of neutrality" it promises: it's not that we can't know these things and get them quickly. And it's not that we don't use them for our own means, which, Weinberger points out, is the very definition of "resistance." The problem lies in the effect of being "fed" "neutral" information, regardless of political beliefs or philosophical tastes. In other words, it's not so much whether you're "enlightened" about how knowledge cannot be neutral, but rather that WP writers/readers assume that information on WP should be neutral.

Put in a better way: maybe what we should be teaching our students when we warn them against using WP in research papers, etc, is how they should use WP; even better, that the effect of continuously relying on others to get our information for us -- i.e. decide what "counts" as the background or "facts"-- creates the issues. Despite WP's efforts at making its info "neutral," and despite Weinberger's efforts at painting a truly revolutionary portrait of WP (and, don't get me wrong, I love the possibilities it opens up!), in the long run it comes down to the idea that someone is deciding something for us. And that, my readers, is the long-term effect I fear the most.

Thursday's Class

For some reason, Thursday's class has really stood out to me. I now have a better understanding of Nakamura's text and claims, and I can see how they play out in the "real" world. I revise my comments to some extent because I obviously was a bit confused (though I didn't know it).

But what really stands out to me from class is the idea of continued effect. I believed in interpreting and analyzing visuals before I got here; that hasn't changed. I had even articulated reasons why it was important to do so. My reasons -- which I felt were just as good as any others -- were that analyzing and interpreting visuals, especially those we encounter every day (cereal boxes, magazine covers, logos, etc), helped us/me gain insight into the role that vision plays into our consciousness. If we are more aware of our relationship to objects and our everyday practices, we will be better for it.

Now, though, I have an even better reason (and a more articulate one!): the continued effect. If we don't analyze, interpret, or otherwise think about visuals we encounter, we do let them pass over us, and the effect multiplies every day. Some of us choose to discuss them, while others do not; some of us choose venues where we can become active, while some do not have this choice. The worst part is, those without the choice may not even know it.

Is this a hopeful message? Yes. It highlights for me yet another reason to keep teaching; and emphasizes how we must teach visuals/visual literacy in composition. At the very least, it offers space for inquiry, encounter, and possibly more active viewers.

Comment from Korie's blog

As I did last week, I will put my question/thoughts from someone else's blog on my own for easier viewing pleasure! Enjoy!

Korie,

I was going to make a post on my own blog that dealt with the question of whether identity (especially in terms of race) is all that important on the internet. That is, there seem to be two sides: the side -- which, mind you, is not necessarily white or black or anything else -- that wants to shroud race or other identifying factors on the internet, and those who believe they're integral to any form of communication or interaction.

I bring this up because it's a question that occurred to me while I was first reading Nakamura's introduction. In some sense, we cannot argue that race/ethnicity has caused plenty of problems in society, and I, for one, could see many benefits of hiding it because of this. While I don't like the "don't ask, don't tell" policy in the military, at the same time I do not see how and why race MUST become an issue. Aren't there a lot of people who suggest that race has only become an issue BECAUSE it's been a site of contention? In other words, aren't the people responsible for the racial divide and oppression also responsible for it to be a necessary defining factor? Thus, wouldn't eliminating that as a category subvert the oppressive structure as a means of resistance?

This is where I take the most issue with Nakamura: she assumes things without really unpacking and critically examining them.

Maybe I'm not cynical enough and I believe in humanity too much.

Response to Ch. 4: _Digitizing Race_

Again, in the spirit of exploring writing styles on this blog, I'm going to list some ideas I'm thinking about from Ch. 4.

Issues of interest:
The idea of resistance on the Internet, especially for women. I do like that Nakamura points out how these digital communities provide spaces for resistance to prevailing medical discourses.

I also like the connection of taste culture -- I've done some work on taste cultures and resistance for my MA thesis; I examined 19th-century British women's cookbooks/domestic manuals for the places where writing on recipes, changing them, etc., offered women access into the predominant discourses of taste culture. Here, I can see an important connection.

Issues that bother me:
While Nakamura amply examines taste cultures and resistance, at the same time her analysis seems to ignore several key aspects that could actually refute her own exegeses. Here are the issues of contention for me:
-- Nakamura does not, in my view, effectively discuss the ways that avatars (though they display pregnant bodies) still remain caught in a youthful, cartoonish, and male-dominated gaze. That is, on the page where she presents these avatars, I was offended, because all of the women looked too similar to those AIM icons she discussed in Ch. 1!! Not only that, but if I were a pregnant woman, I would NOT want to be depicted online in flare jeans and revealing shirts!

--Related to this, I feel that Nakamura does not address the issue of community critically enough. Yes, women do need spaces to resist the medical discourses that are often problematic, but to emphasize their sense of "banding together" and delighting in each other's pregnancies does nothing, in my view, to de-stabilize the notion of female domesticity or pregnancy as only a feminine issue! In fact, the creation of these avatars and ridiculous "sparklies," inane and abbreviations, and the ways that these women deal with issues, only reinforces their femininity! I found all these abbreviations and sparkly pages utterly silly. Why can't these women write "intercourse" or "have sex" instead of the absolutely sophomoric "BDing"? Good GOD! How does that make them empowered, or even resist the dominant discourse of pregnancy?

In some sense, I see Nakamura's point: they're using the codes and conventions against themselves. But I didn't read them that way. I read them as silly, unintelligent, ridiculous, and just plain inane.

--Also, I take huge issue with Nakamura's assumption on p. 143 that these women are "stuck" at home. Did someone put a gun to their head and make them stay home? Can't women CHOOSE domesticity anymore? Or did feminism completely abolish that as a viable choice?

It seems to me that Nakamura's theory that this avatar culture as resistance only works if women believe they are stuck at home. If you're not stuck, it would make sense that you're not seeking advice.

--Finally, where are the men?!? Nakamura's analysis is still too focused on women, reinforcing the idea that this is still strictly a women's issue. WHy doesn't she examine men's discussions of pregnancy, and why don't the women bring it up, too? Why doesn't she at least call for it?

In short, I do like that Nakamura is exploring uncharted territory with pregnant avatars and the (feminine) discourses of pregnancy on the internet. But even as a woman who does not identify herself as a feminist (at least in current academic understandings of it), I was offended at the celebration of inane, overtly feminine, and silly depictions of the women in these communities. I'm not saying I want something "more intellectual" or "academic," per se, but I don't want to glorify vapid, girly discussions either.

The "Eyes" Have It: Chapter 3 of Digitizing Race

Since Anne has been asking us to think about our writing on the blog, I'm going to try a different form of posting. Not only will I try to be less "personal," I will also try to be more concise.

This chapter raised several interesting issues concerning race and its "social optics." According to Nakamura, "social optics" refer to how the eye visualizes the signifiers of race in society. She analyzes two mainstream films: The Matrix and Minority Report to explore how race is figured visually in those films.

Overall, she does a fairly decent job of discussing the major parts of the film, focusing on several characters and aspects that do signify race and racial optics. This chapter was slightly less schizophrenic than her previous two, and was therefore easier to read. Further, Nakamura seemed to have a clear point that she was arguing. In this chapter, it was much easier to understand that instead of coming to a clear conclusion, she is examining how these issues operate.

For example, Nakamura writes, "Like the Zion gate operator in The Matrix, Anderton is engaging in a transparent relationship with the interface that confirms his privilege in the racial landscape. Anderton has the privileged view that comes with a proprioceptive, immediate relationship to networked digital imaging" (123). In other words, an unmediated and immediate, proprietary and consumerist, relationship to media confers social privilege. If we relate this argument to other points from this chapter and previous ones, it's clear that Nakamura explores how our relationship to, and position regarding, new media, establishes not only the "color" of the interface(s), but also the ways in which it stratifies others in relationship to it. Ultimately, if my analysis is correct, then this is the point I wish she had made clearer throughout, as it is simultaneously fascinating and disturbing.

Nakamura also points out that these films visually create positions: white people are the main users (and perhaps, victims) of technology, while black people are on the margins. This may be true of these two films, and many other films, but what's the significance, especially for those who have not seen these films? That is, how does this analysis let us see these dynamics operating in the rest of digital media? My main contention with Nakamura's discussion here is that she does not seem to spend enough time addressing the ways that these films call into question the visual formulations of race. I read her analysis of these films with an eye to resistance; she does not seem to give the films enough credit. Her discussion of "alllooksame.com," however, does. Therefore, is her argument that films do not force us to question our assumptions (due to viewer position, etc), whereas websites do? I doubt that that's true, and if she is arguing that, but it seems to be the case. I want her to go back and look at viewers' receptions of the films to figure out the work they are actually doing, and why.

A question I'm thinking about: What role does position -- the physical position of the viewer -- play in their response? Would a website more effectively resist hegemony and ideological assumptions, since it presumes interactivity? I'm thinking here of Virilio's statement that the screen holds us hostage. Does the computer screen hold us hostage in the same way? If so, what potential for resistance is there?

Self Portrait 2

A second version of the self portrait. I'm not sure which I like better. We'll have to see. It's the same theme, though.

Self Portrait 1

At long last, my self portrait. Bonus points to anyone who knows the poem!

Comment on Kristi's Post

I put this as part of my comment on Kristi's post about Nakamura, but I figured that I'd also stick it on my own blog for those of you who might have missed it.

My question relates to Nakamura's assumption that the internet still adopts the white male gaze. Since many visual studies scholars are debating the existence/prevalence of the gaze in the first place (they're finally beginning to see that Laura Mulvey needs to re-read her Lacan as well as stop making stupid assumptions -- again, don't get me started), and since the Internet necessarily incorporates various users, I'm wondering how the Internet requires us to re-negotiate the "gaze" to account for the multiple users, situations, purposes (something neither Mulvey nor Nakamura really address), and production. The new media forms need to be considered under the aegis of visual studies, yet they also need to gain their own niche within it, that accounts for the ways that they may revise, update, or resist the status quo.

Recant, Sort Of...

All right, all right. I take it back -- sort of. That is, I liked Chapter two of Nakamura's book. It was much better methodologically, I feel, and explored much more of the things I wanted to see. While this chapter still shared some of the problems of the first, at the same time I felt that this one was much more effective, because it focused on one issue: the visualization of race on one site, and in so doing made this chapter more theoretically (and intellectually) rigorous.

I particularly liked her assessment off the "allooksame?" site; not only was she careful to point out the potential controversies and issues with depicting such a sensitive topic, but she went to the source itself, did some discourse and visual analysis, and looked at users. Though she had done some of this in the first chapter, it was too limited in scope for me to buy it. Here, since she was only discussing this one-of-a-kind site, it didn't seem so bad. I do believe her now, when she says that this website presents spaces for deconstruction of (visual) race; all elements contribute and the surrounding discussions effectively sketch out the parameters for her argument. :)

I totally dig the fact that she is/was willing to explore the possible sites (no pun intended) for resistance on the Internet. It's a refreshing viewpoint that needs more publicity and serious attention, as she forcefully reiterates. I'm particularly fascinated with her discussion that race has always been, and continues to be, primarily a visual signifier. For me, this raises significant questions about how the continuing ubiquity of public (and global) visual media will impact race in the future.

Another interesting point that I wish she had spent more time on: this idea of the "postliterate" society. Whoa. I'm not sure, exactly, what to make of this, but I'm intrigued, because it relates nicely to what we were discussing in Thursday's class about the potential to have visual learning disabilities. She even references one -- the inability to recognize visual patterns-- as she discusses what it means to exist in a postliterate society. What's even more interesting are how oral/visual societies use the internet and social networking; I would have liked much more elaboration on this point, as it provided a nice correlation to her arguments. How much of race is constructed through visual cues/signifiers, and how much of it (also) depends upon the interaction of those visual signifiers with the textual? Can race "translate" into "text" in similar ways? I wonder what would happen if visual/oral societies -- especially those who bypassed tv and film, for example -- responded to visual racial signifiers. Finally, could further proliferation of sites like "Allooksame" effectively erase racial boundaries, as our sharp Annette imagines?

Not sure. My critique of the first chapter still stands, though. I'm still angry. But at least she redeemed herself. So, she had one "bad" chapter. So sue me for pointing it out.

Maybe even MORE later, when I parse out what I'm planning to use for my future work on facebook.

Musings on Lisa Nakamura's Digitizing Race

I'm a visual studies geek. That's why I liked Nakamura's approach and methodology in Digitizing Race: Visual Cultures of the Internet. According to Nakamura, the turn to new media studies and cultural studies (within both the academy and visual culture) has sponsored several examinations of phenomena like IM, gaming, digital interfaces, avatars, and even facebook; despite their proliferation, they have not entertained "serious" analyses, in that the critics have not explored them using serious critical practices, such as those of visual culture. Thus, Nakamura attempts to correct the problem by applying the critical approaches of visual culture and critical/cultural theory to the internet. This struck me as an improvement, since I'm all about pop culture and everyday life as serious, and grossly underestimated, sites where critical engagement occurs. So I had high expectations as I read.

I loved the introduction, for the most part. Nakamura does a great job of contextualizing the history and necessary -- at least according to her -- political implications/assumptions surrounding the Internet's inception. This was helpful, especially for understanding where her argument comes from. She also effectively defines and elaborates several concepts to which she refers throughout -- interactivity, for example -- as sites for examination and understanding of how (and maybe why?) the internet operates the way it does. I also found her introduction inspiring and illuminating, since she makes some claims that apply to many areas of the Internet; I found myself making notes and earmarks by several of her assertions for later use in my work on Facebook. So I was eager to read on.

And then...boy, was I disappointed. In my view, Nakamura's Introduction offers far more interesting, applicable, and intellectually stimulating (and articulated!) ideas than anything she writes in the following two chapters we read for this week. I'm beginning to think she wanted the book to go in one direction, and used the wrong stuff. For example, I was eagerly anticipating a sustained, (critically) rigorous, eloquent, and relevant analysis of AIM buddies, but instead I got what seemed to be a half-hearted attempt. It was half-hearted to me because it didn't really engage many of the interesting and smart assertions she made; it was almost like she presented a claim, then reconsidered. I say this because we go from talking about the visual components of three multi-part buddy icons (where, I wonder, are the other kinds, made not just by women or minorities, but mine, for example, which depicts two pink flowers???) to early film. Now, maybe I'm just nuts, but that's awfully schizophrenic. And I was willing to read on -- which I did -- but I STILL don't see the point of that comparison. This brings me to the main reason I was disappointed: too many threads and ideas, without enough detail or discussion. Only at the very end of the first chapter does Nakamura state that the icons she discusses are fetishes (and therefore not? resisting cultural expectations). I was hoping for a much more rigorous, and detailed, examination.

Secondly, I'm really not sure what she's arguing. In the Introduction, she presents two scenarios. On the one hand, the Internet was/is widely used as a means of depoliticizing, and therefore not discussing, race. She obviously takes umbrage at this. On the other hand, though, she points out that in fact, if we examine more "popular" things like IM, we can see publicly overt discussions and representations of race/ethnicity. Okay. I buy that... almost. Perhaps the reason why I'm skeptical of Nakamura's claims here has to do with the reasons why I'm skeptical of feminism: she makes a of assumptions that are just not true. She also assumes that it's a bad thing that race be eliminated on the internet. That is, she takes issue with the idea that the internet does not make race an overt category (which she says users automatically assume male whiteness, which I, for one, do NOT do), because it hides it. Now, isn't this what most people say they want? In other words, don't we want to end race or ethnicity as a defining category? Hasn't this caused too many problems? So why, then, does she VALUE racial depictions on the Internet? I'd be willing to bet that the same people who say that generic email interfaces are necessarily masculine (oh, don't get me started) are the same ones who also assume that they're also white. How does my PantherMail interface project ANY kind of racial or ethnic identity, other than the fact that it uses English? I'm trying, guys, to not explode. I mean, she's trying to make a point -- perhaps, take these things seriously, which I may not be doing. But for me, that is not the issue for discussion. The issue for discussion, the argument I think she wants to make, is the way that users' assumptions get in the way of their understanding of how discourse works (she says this in another context when she distills Hall's argument in Ch. 1). I wish she had done that.

All right, no more angry tangents. Back on subject. Nakamura seems to valorize these public representations of race as, among other things, sites of resistance. Cool! Way cool! I like that. But, first of all, she spends so little time actually discussing the AIM buddy icons that her point gets lost in a maelstrom of history, theoretical discussions which seem to have little to do with her argument, and tangent upon tangent of information. As a well-trained and dedicated reader, I get lost. So, her point is lost on the people she wants to speak to (she must have taken lessons from Judith Butler).

What I want her to do is to actually get down and dirty with AIM buddy icons -- and not just three of one type. I want her to really explore how the generic ones deal with, or hide racial identities, how they signify, their rhetoric, their purpose(s), and who uses them. She also wrongly assumes that youths are the only ones using, or caring, about this stuff. I'm going to be 26, and I hang out on AIM all the time -- though it's mostly to talk to my college friends for free. But therein lies another use. I'd like to see her do a real study: who uses the internet, for what/which purposes, how often, etc. Where are the user testimonials? Where are the discussions about demographics? Does she have evidence from minority users who take issue with the internet interfaces? And where are the discussions from the creators of those icons? (Now, I know that that might have been difficult, considering the anonymity of the internet, etc, but the point here is that her methodology is crappy). If she wants to apply visual studies methodology (albeit somewhat modified) to the Internet, then she actually needs to, like, do it. No visual studies person would examine a buddy icon without examining the production, the constraints, the iconology/iconography, its consumption, etc -- in short, I'm not sure what her methodology is. Apparently, to Nakamura, modification means "I can do whatever I want" --in an unclear way, based on my own narrow assumptions. Nice. It makes me want to continue to be an academic.

And another thing: she assumes that users of her "majority" --i.e. white, male, middle-class, etc -- are not resisting the norms. She doesn't explore how buddy icons can uphold the status quo (if one can even say that one exists on the internet, which I'm not sure there is) as well as how they may resist it. To return to my favorite example -- the analysis of the 3 buddy icons in Chapter 1 -- she barely touches on how these women are fetishized and fetishes, and only well after that discussion is over. I'm not saying I agree that they are fetishes/ized. I'm saying they might be, but to me, they really suggest an Americanized identity. Though the Muslim girl is wearing a veil, she's also wearing a DKNY top and fashionable jeans, which to me smacks of teeny-bopper, Americanized, popular culture; a popular culture where it's more important to pay attention to the trends. What I'm really saying here is that even if this icon represents a Muslim or Arab girl (which it probably does), it nonetheless seems to show a girl who wants to be considered American more than anything else. Perhaps an "American Muslim" -- or signify the message that "Muslims are Americans, too." Either way, all I have to say to Nakamura on this account is, go back to the drawing board and start over.

Other issues: the binary between object of interactivity and subject of interactivity. For me, these are both bad, because I can't help thinking of Althusser, Foucault, and Marx. Better, perhaps, would be "passive interactivity" vs. "active interactivity" -- if you want to maintain her use of binaries.

Very little explanation of "icon" in the context of buddy icons. I would think, if her project is to repurpose some of visual studies' terms/concepts, you ought to at least consider what it means there, and then offer an explanation of how it works differently in these contexts.

Misunderstanding of non-gaming, non-pregnant, and non-stay at home mom female users. First of all, not every woman who uses the Internet fits into one of these categories, and second, many female users often engage in other practices than "pregnancy chats" or "bridesmaid dress shopping." I don't just go on the internet to shop, chat with my friends, and commiserate with other women. As a woman, I am offended, and as a woman, she should be, too! I mean, how is she helping her argument along if she herself categorizes women as passive and flippant users of the internet? Just because men comprise the majority of the gaming industry, and buy a lot of things on the Internet (yet another claim I think is unfounded -- I buy all kinds of stuff on the internet), or play violent games, doesn't mean that women are passive. And is she saying that these "shoot'em up" games are more valuable, because they're at least aggressive?

Again, all I have to say is, re-read your theory, talk to Internet users, and change methodology. You can't just apply abstract critical theory to anything, and if you do, you should at least do it "right." Modification, Lisa Nakamura, does not mean you can ignore rigorous and responsible practice.

Fin, for now. Let's see how I feel after tomorrow.

Composition in the Archive

Brad and I are writing an article on composition and the archives. He's an archivist, and I'm (obviously) a compositionist, so it makes for good clean fun. So, here's a lowdown on my part of the argument. Note: I have no idea what he'll say, since we haven't officially discussed particulars yet.

I'm interested in how the archives can, and should be used, in the composition classroom as an aspect of critical pedagogy. Since our students (and even increasing numbers of faculty) are becoming more and more technologically savvy, it's important that they get a sense of how these discourses/texts/etc work. Allan Sekula argues that the archive should be read "from the bottom up"; his premise lies in the fact that archives structure knowledge in particular ways, both about class/political issues, and historical discourses. This is highly redacted, of course. But suffice it to say that his ideas help us determine how to use and teach research.

Basically, the crux of my argument relates to multimodality. If students understand how to produce, read, interpret, and incorporate, archival information, they can then think about all other aspects of knowledge production, too. Note 2: I don't want to make sweeping, correlative claims about one practice leading to another. If anything, that's the teacher's job. But think of it this way: even internet fora like facebook are designed, and set up, like an "archive"(at least in SEkula's perspective). Incorporating the necessary processes, for lack of a better term, that go into archiving, and the ways that archives -- regardless of form or media -- necessarily hide how they structure knowledge(another of Sekula's key tenets, perhaps the most important), into our curricula would be beneficial on many counts. If nothing else, it would allow students more freedom to explore possibilities, and provide spaces for making their work relevant to their own ideas/experiences/goals for education. That's my main goal as a teacher; I'm going to have T-shirts made.

So, yeah. Any questions, let me know. I'm obsessed with the archive as a construct and theoretical staple of visual studies.

The next installment of my musings on the archive will most likely be about Nicholson Baker's The Mezzanine, which I am arguing needs to be read as archive (an archive that responds to, and is influenced by, Oulipan writing strategies). After that, it's definitely gonna be Sgt. Pepper as archive.

Hmmm...maybe this should be my dissertation?

Ben's Debut (Snow Day Word Play II)

All right. In the spirit of some people's word-plays, I've decided to PhotoShop my FAVORITE subject: my dog Ben.

This photo was taken a few years ago. And yes, folks, he is really holding a peanut butter jar.

Oh, yeah, he's even BIGGER now!

Handsome, isn't he?

Snow Day Word Play I

Apparently, I suck at Photoshop. I'm looking at everyone else's images, and they seem (somehow) "better" than mine. I say this because it seems like I don't have a good enough hang of layering, cloning, etc. I guess that will come in time. I have been playing, though. You should see my failed attempts! The only reason I didnt post them is because, well, there are just too many photos of flowers with weird effects to share!

Here, I found an image of two daisies that I loved. (In case you hadn't noticed, I've only Photoshopped photos of flowers. I love them). I sharpened it, watercolored (I think) the background, and "twirled" the center of the back daisy, because you gotta have some "twirl" distortion! Plus, I think it contrasts nicely with the (unaltered) image in the foreground.

Why "Paradise Found"? Because of John Milton (Paradise Lost) and to me, finding daisies is just about as close to heaven on earth as we can get. I also like punning. Word play at its best, sez I.

This whole discussion --mostly from Marla and Kristi's blogs, respectively -- has made me think about why I do what I do in PS. That is, I have no "artistic eye," or any concept of design. Would this help me? I'm not sure.

It makes me think of the lecture Anne gave on our first night of class, where she was saying that we can all be moviemakers now. I love that I can do this, and I love the access it gives everyone. But, the other side is, how WELL? I know, I know, that's a question smacking of elitism and "traditional" values. Nonetheless, that question plagues me. I'm not good at PS because I have little (visual) aesthetic or artistic sensibility. I was the kid who did well in art class because she tried valiantly, and my work wasn't completely awful -- not because I'm good.

So Kristi's question, about "how to PS this? Would it make it better?" is at stake here. I don't think any of my PS experiments make anything better. Then again, the assignment was to explore the relationship between words and texts, so... better might not serve our purposes here.

This post is not answering any questions, and it is not tying up any loose ends. Oh well.

Second Wordplay!

Here's yet another version of my wordplay. This time, I got better, since I figured out how to save files and manipulate them! Woohoo!

I loved the blue in this one, and I like the yellow on the petals. Now, if I can just find out how to make a petal drop, or something, I'll be set.

Comments?

First Wordplay!

Here is my first attempt at playing with Photoshop. I was just having some fun...enjoy!

Semiotic Analysis of Image #2

First off, the image has three separate sections of red and yellow: at the very top, in the characters on the bottom, and right in the middle on the soldier’s collar. Not only does this structure our vision, but it signifies China, specifically the Chinese flag. Barthes (and Rose) would argue that this is a metonymic relationship, since the flag stands in for China, as do red and yellow. The winding road in the background seems to represent the Great Wall of China as well, which has become an iconic symbol of China.

The soldier himself symbolizes masculinity and toughness, and these qualities are enhanced by his erect pose. He’s staring not at “us,” but just above eye-level, suggesting that he is battle-ready. To use a soldier and all masculine qualities therein, the image implies that China can be protected by these tough, masculine soldiers. Since he’s also wearing the colors of the Chinese flag, placed against a typically Chinese background, and wears an expression of pride, it also signifies that China itself is made up of these kinds of men (qualities?).

Related to the previous paragraph, the image as a whole stands in for our “Westernized” image of China, because it plays on what we expect to see. In some sense, it is the “myth” of China: red and yellow, Chinese characters, the Great Wall, beautiful birds, pagodas, etc. All of these symbols contribute to the iconic status (in our culture) of the Orient; that is, we associate these things with Chinese culture and China in general. Thus, the poster in its entirety suggests the Non-Western, delivering a myth of strength and the exotic. Perhaps we might call it strength in the exotic?

Since Rose argues (and I’ve agreed with this for quite some time now) that we need to consider how an image makes meaning for its intended viewers, I’ll speculate on that point for a bit. Mostly, I’d say everything stays the same, except that the “myth” of this image changes. Instead of signifying the Non-Western or the exotic, for the Chinese, it probably signifies strength and power through the symbol of the man on the poster. His expression, stature, and size – as well as the gun he carries – suggest this. Further, the image might also suggest that China is full of men, or that the future of China lies in its men, since this masculine image dominates the photo (as it may dominate the culture as well). If you’re a male viewer, you, too, can join the army and protect China (which, I think I’ve heard, is referred to as female? Not sure on this one). In short, though, the myth of this image for Chinese viewers is likely one of male dominance and power, as well as strength.

Together, these readings reinforce the masculinity of the armed forces in general; regardless of nation or culture, viewers expect to see male soldiers, since they're universally seen as more powerful and protective. Soldiers are also tough, aloof (as this man is), and imperturbable, which in turn comprise the iconic status of a soldier in general. All of these elements reinforce the dominant myth of masculinity, whether in China or in Western society.

Maybe I'll think of more later. If I do, I'll post!

Photoshop = AWESOME! I've been poking around at it since our demo, and I am amazed at what it can do! I've never seen any real reason to use it...until Thursday. I think there's something to be said for the element of "play" it invites.

Related to photographs, I'm somewhat disturbed by Gillian Rose's watered-down analyses of visual methods and visual culture. Her definition of ideology is utterly atrocious. In spite of my disgruntlement, however, I do like what she does in the first chapter, where she argues for "critical visual methodology" -- a method for interpreting images and visual artifacts that takes into account the practices involved. I like this because I'm a visual studies/visual culture geek, and thus I am interested in the debates that happen within the field. She's right about the arguments that go on; like Rhetoric and Composition, for example, Visual Studies (as a discipline) often has to fight for, or defend, its legitimacy. Thus, debates about what it does and why abound.

For me, the interest in a critical visual methodology lies in its potential for teaching composition/writing. Not only might we teach students to develop their own "critical visual methodology" for interpreting and analyzing images, but they might apply this to their writing. That is, it seems like the bulleted list of behaviors that Rose claims constitute a "critical visual methodology" are strikingly similar to those we'd want our students to do when they interpret a text. Of course, I'm deliberately dichotomizing "image" and "text" -- in my world, and often in the world of the classes I teach, "text" = "image." (That is, an image is also a text, which I know assumes a lot of things about images, etc, but I think we need, at least for the sake of teaching composition, to join these terms).

I'm not sure what to do with this insight here; I just thought it would be interesting to post and see what you guys all thought. Or, most likely, post anyway! :)