Digital Publishing

Recently I was talking with a student who mentioned an interest in opening a small book store organized around one of those Espresso Book Machines. I'd heard of the concept somewhere but had to file the conversation for later research anyway. During our chat, I shared my memories of wandering Archer City, Texas a few years back, touring the town where Larry McMurtry set about building his fantasy used bookstore one decaying building at a time (see NYT article). How cool I marveled, that the writer of The Last Picture Show (scroll to bottom of link) could transform some of his hometown into a stage-set of ideas.

I returned to the Espresso Book Machine yesterday, catching a reference to the all-you-could-possibly-want book printer in a New York Review of Books article that had been moldering in my "must read" file. In that piece, Jason Epstein provides an overview of the digital publishing revolution that might be interesting to younger readers if only they could imagine a time when everything worth seeing or hearing hadn't already been transformed into pixels. While virtually nothing in Epstein's essay can be called news, the author nonetheless does a pretty fair job of conveying the sweep of change affecting the written word.

Read for yourself: Publishing: The Revolutionary Future

You, Disconnected

That cheesy seventies flick Logan's Run is proving to be a pretty good predictor of the future. I'm not referring to tacky DayGlo mumus or that whole "death after thirty" thing. I'm talking about the film's depiction of The Circuit. Remember that scene?

"Imagine a world in which you need never be alone. You touch a switch, turn a dial, and the perfect lover steps into your arms" [film trailer link].

The fantasy of instant connection, with interactive vividness and editable boundaries, is Logan's Run's promise of the 23rd century. Certainly it'll be awhile before we can shop for real live humans, inviting strangers to step into our rooms. But at least there's Chatroulette.

Check out my video of Chatroulette encounters [select HD for best quality]: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-JBOtyO4tQ

The wildly popular micro-social networking site, growing so rapidly that some analysts believe it's already passed the so cool-so lame threshold, has shimmered on my mental periphery for a few weeks, but I only had time last night to play.

In case you're unfamiliar with the site, Chatroulette is a bare bones webcam network, supposedly invented by a Moscow teenager [NYT story], that lets you hook up with random strangers worldwide for Single-Serving Friendships, lightly voyeuristic displays, or disturbingly kinky encounters.

Like the looks of this person? Stick around.

Feeling mildly freaked? Or annoyed? Or bored? Click to the next one.

I messed around with Chatroulette for a few hours last night. Jenny, of course, was not impressed. She looked over my shoulder for a few minutes and then marched off to bed, announcing that the whole idea creeps her out.

The next morning, I'm flipping through screen captures I surreptitiously grabbed with my laptop (it's amazing how easy it is to sexualize human-computer interaction). The screen-grabs are souvenirs of fellow-travelers willing to share after-hours microbursts of connection with me on the Circuit (one New York Magazine author citing the "Twitter-fication of face-to-face interaction" [link]). I can still see them.

Oh, and the penises. Lots of penises. I definitely remember a few of those. I'm writing this post now with the application open, occasionally peaking at the Chatroulette page for inspiration. About one in 20 clicks yields some guy's junk, usually being furiously yanked. Sometimes the scene is less overt though: maybe an underwear-covered crotch or a set of exposed abs, flexed, waiting...

Most Chatroulette clicks produce video-snapshots of grainy faced guys sitting alone in the dark, a hand stretched out of view. Wait long enough and one will stare intently into the camera. A two-tone chirp and then a red-text "Hi" pops up in the chat window.

Where's that "Next" button?

> You disconnected.

A brief wait as the next link is made. Then -

> Connected, feel free to talk now

A hipster surveys me and renders his judgment: "a big bushy beard." It takes me a while to connect the audio, but this dude's not in the mood for difficult dialogues. He's made his evaluation and there's nothing left to say. I decide to shave a bit later, realizing that I can't schlub my way around here. Most early adopters have already learned to frame themselves memorably. Not professionally in any sense, but with some style.

Next.

Kermit the Frog is masturbating to a video of plus-sized porn stars. A woman plops a mound of stomach flesh on a guy standing on all fours; Kermit gasps in amphibian pleasure. I've quickly learned why one author has described [link] Chatroulette as "like inviting pedophiles into your home."

While the site has been active for about three months, it's only crested public consciousness over the past few weeks. And I just know a hundred local television affiliates are racing to wrap up their newest iterations of "Do You Know What Your Kids Are Doing Online?" stories, with Chatroulette serving up the tangiest sweat of moral panic.

Next.

A photo this time: a bug-eyed infant. The sign reads "T**s for hungry baby." There are a lot of those actually, men and boys trolling for flashers. One guy writes, "I'll do ANYTHING for boobs." I come across a couple women who seem willing, but I don't care enough to ask. A Guardian writer opines [link]: "we seem to spend more time in our tribes and yet [are] happier than ever to let strangers glimpse our lives." No thanks. Not that kind of glimpse.

Next.

A teenage girl twirls her hair. She creases her brow, a nanosecond judgment, and the screen goes black.

> Your partner disconnected. Press "Next" to find a new person!

I get a lot of those, which is a little depressing. But I'm no better. Lots of folks suffer the indignity of my disconnects too, and sometimes for the silliest reasons. For example, I click-diss people who lack a sense of composition. That's right: new media demand new aesthetics. Position your head in a tiny quadrant of the screen? You won't last long with me. Too much negative space weirds me out.

Next.

Another penis. Oh, and this time he's going for a money shot.

Next.

A girl at a party. She smiles and lights a joint, blowing smoke in my video-screen face. This one's much cheerier than the girl who castigated me three or four clicks back. One look and she turned to her pal, pronouncing, "This one is quite elderly," before addressing me directly: "Why are you here with us? Think of your daughters." A few clicks later and I'm at another party of teenage twinks. One squeals, "Dad! I thought I told you to stay off this thing!"

Is it my -?

Next.

Chatroulette's night rhythm is a stream of eye-blink moments. Automate the next-click option and one stranger after another peers into my life. An Internet Tough Guy menaces, "What the f*** you lookin' at, man?" Click. A girl in panties lays next to her naked boyfriend. Click. A blurry, pixelated dude, his face eerily luminescent, like he's beamed in from a 60s'-era lunar broadcast, dangles a bag of weed from his fingers. Click. An older guy nods and offers a wan thumbs-up. Click. A hottie wearing a tight leather mini-skirt -

> You disconnected.

Ooops! What did I just miss? Oh well, no time for regrets. Now some guy is hoisting a squeeze-bottle. It's brimming with a thick green substance. He's about to squeeze. He smiles.

> You disconnected.
> Looking for a random stranger...

Dont h8: Keyboard Got Me LOLing

A fullsize keyboard for folks who write in LOLs has arrived. It's called the Fast Finger Keyboard, and it offers a host of TextTalk options under the function keys, everything from ASAP to TTYL. The keyboard also allows you to switch from QWERTY to A-Z formats.

Of course, I'm waiting for Version 2, which features automatic English-to-TextTalk translation.

Learn more: Fast Finger website

Overpass Mecca Part 1

Despite hectic schedules and lousy weather, Jenny and I have been looking for opportunities to return to our light painting experiments, and finally we found time to get back on the road this past weekend. Better still, we focused on one of Jenny's photographic goals, taking pictures of overpasses. The results suggest a terrific site for future shoots.

Jenny often says how much she loves things that tower over her. That's one reason she digs our trips to Monument Valley; she's inspired by soaring expressions of natural or human power. So she recommended that we turn our camera toward San José for a reasonably close urban approximation of that feeling. For me it was an obvious choice. I too am drawn to highway overpasses as sweeping icons of omnitopia. Thus we began our trip with a sense of optimism.

Conducting no research on an ideal shooting site (a common lament for us) we nonetheless agreed that we required a place where we could safely park with plenty of compositional opportunities. In short, a cluster of overpasses twisting around each other. Beyond that, we were unsure of our specific itinerary as we cruised over the hill. Luck for us, our first stop far surpassed our ambitions: an intersection of Highway 85 and 87 that even has a no-fee lightrail station parking lot.



View Larger Map

For about four hours we took turns and practiced techniques, struggling (as ever) with long distance/low-light focus issues and the need to establish a proper white balance in a zone flooded with ugly yellow sodium lights. The results reminded me of mid-century futurism: a world of blurred cars amid urban canyons.

I can't wait to get back to that retro tomorrow.

Update: Overpass Mecca Part 2

(Photographs by Andrew and Jenny Wood)

Friday Fun Post: "I Know"

Looking forward to Sunday's delightful Valentine's Day with Jenny.

Oh, yes. There will be fondue. But no getting frozen in carbonite. I'm just not that cool.

(Image by Garrison Dean. Check out his other cards)

Shameless Media Plug - KNTV NBC 11 TV and Hitler's Downfall Videos

KNTV NBC 11's Vicky Nguyen interviewed me yesterday at a Los Gatos coffee shop about those near-ubiquitous "Hitler's Downfall" videos that have cropped up on YouTube since 2006. While new one about Jerry Brown's inevitable California governor-bid [link] was the hook for Nguyen's piece, I enjoyed the opportunity to consider the broader implications of this phenomenon.

Tolerating my academic tendency toward pseudo-profundity, Nguyen managed an interview where we explored why so many people enjoy Hitler's Downfall videos as guilty pleasures. Our chat covered a lot of ground ranging from Andy Warhol's iconography of Marilyn Monroe to Kenneth Burke's "God and Devil terms" to other historical villains who have become mutable, editable constructs.

In comments that didn't make the final piece, I analyzed one component of the humor found (for some folks) in Hitler's Downfall videos: humorous juxtaposition. In other words, producers create an absurd mash-up of a raging mass murderer set to die in a bunker against an ever-growing array of goofily insignificant, contemporary topics: Jay Leno retaking The Tonight Show, the fact that Apple's iPad lacks a camera, that sort of thing. From that perspective, I attempted to explain the role of irony in the videos' humor.

Ultimately, though, I took a more critical tack, arguing that the pleasure that flows from ripping Devil-term figures from their historical contexts, the power to flatten history into a collection of interchangeable texts, comes with a price. While I regret my generational focus (referring to a "point and click" age group - Blerg!), I feel comfortable with one conclusion that made its way into the story: "[Hitler's Downfall re-producers] might look at Hitler as Genghis Khan or Napoleon or some sort of figure we can transform into a plaything, but the people who forget this really happened are the folks most surprised it could happen again." [Note: This is from the written version; the video version used different quotes.]

And yes, I cited George Santayana.

KNTV NBC 11 Video: Hitler Video Goes Viral

Shot-by-Shot Analysis: Jared Pandora

We've got a trifecta with this ad for cheesy baubles: consumerist-romance, gadget obsession, and obnoxious kids!

We open with an establishing shot of three girls sitting at home, playing with mobile devices. The camera gently shakes and jitters to convey homemade naturalism.

The youngest girl plays with a handheld game. The slightly older girl taps on a mobile phone. The big sister types on a laptop computer.

Keeping her eyes glued on her laptop screen, the older girl asks her sisters, "Did Dad go to Jared for the Pandora bracelet like we told him?"

The youngest girl, having put down her game, searches for signs of her parents' interaction in the living room:

"I - I can't tell."

We then see a medium close-up of Mom and Dad on the couch. Mom opens a case, revealing a godawful ugly charm bracelet (not that the jewelry's aesthetics are important in this post):

"Oh, honey!"

We return to the girls. The big sister smiles, her eyes still locked on that laptop: "Oh, yeah. He went to Jered."

The second-oldest also continues focusing on her device: "He totally went to Jared."

A voice-over calls on viewers to "Celebrate life's unforgettable moments with Pandora charms and bracelets" One is labeled, "Our 3 daughters."

A brief musical flourish accompanies a return to the living room where Mom launches across the couch to hug Dad.

The daughters trill at the sweet scene, even pulling themselves away from their electronic toys for a moment.

Big sister then marshals the kind of condescension that only a teenager can possess, "They're so cute at that age."

Difficulty seeing the spot? Point your browser here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wAibK4oSL4

The spot is dated September 30, 2009 and attributed to Stern Advertising.

One final thought: Is it just me, or doesn't "Jared Pandora" sound like a Star Wars character?