Let's Remix It Up

Today, I stumbled upon a website called New Literary Magazine, which posts "literary remixes." From what I can tell, the site's been inactive for a few years. But one quote, from Australian lawyers writing a report on mashups and copyright law, caught my attention:

"We now inhabit a 'remix culture,' a culture which is dominated by amateur creators - creators who are no longer willing to be passive recipients of content."

Now, more than ever, it's not just the distinguished poets and trained composers who make culture. It's the ordinary people who post videos to youtube, who decide which ones are worth watching, who create spoofs and share opinions and basically shape culture as we know it. We're all active participants--not just consumers, but creators. Youtube is teeming with mash-ups and music covers, spoofs and satires, opinion blogs, short films, fan videos and music videos. You don't need any special training or financial power--just a computer with iMovie.



And remix cultural isn't small or marginal. It's powerful, and it's center stage. Justin Bieber was discovered on youtube; Sean Kingston, Colbie Caillat, and Kate Voegele rose to fame through myspace. In Egypt, the fire of revolution started on Facebook and kept burning on Twitter. A Very Potter Musical, a Harry Potter spoof performed by Basement Arts in Ann Arbor, shot to unexpected fame through Youtube; "Scene 1" of the musical is climbing steadily toward 5 million views. And the latest viral video is always on people's lips (and sometimes even on the news).

Remix culture doesn't just allow us to create our own content; it also brings us together in a virtual community. One of the most creative uses of Youtube I've seen is the Youtube Symphony Orchestra, described on the official youtube channel as a "global endeavor devoted to sharing the love of music and celebrating humanity's vast creative diversity." Musicians auditioned on Youtube, and the talented, diverse winners (including a cello major from U of M) were invited to fly out to Sydney and perform with musicians from all over the world.

However, the internet does have its fair share of trash. Everyone's voice can be heard, and we choose who to listen to. As we've mentioned in class, freedom of speech doesn't always mean "share your opinion." We will always have that right--but we should also have the discernment to know when not to exercise it. As much as the internet is associated with worldwide connection and vast possibilities, it's also associated with cyber-bullying, offensive content, endless debates that last for pages and pages. There's no filter--we have to be careful.

The Mason Hall Confessional

Back in November, one of my facebook friends posted this as her status: "I'm pretty sure my favorite place on campus is the women's bathroom in Angel Hall near the fishbowl. The writings on the bathroom stall walls are beautiful and amazing...its like therapy while peeing. LOVE IT!"

These examples range from confessions and advice to song lyrics and random thoughts.

The Writing on the Stalls

For me, graffiti is art. Not all graffiti is good--a random expletive scrawled on a brick wall isn't particularly thought-provoking, for example. But when you consider how graffiti interacts with other street art, and with the urban vibe of the city, you'll start to see a collage of self-expression on a brick canvas.

But I'm still trying to decide if the same thing applies to writing on bathroom walls.

Admittedly, bathroom graffiti is not the same category of visual art as Banksy's pieces, or Ann Arbor's Graffiti Alley. But slam poetry is considered an artistic form of expression. And Postsecret, an anonymous online collection of confessions and advice, is a self-proclaimed community art project. So why shouldn't we allow the same title for the collage of words on a bathroom wall?

And before you call me crazy, let me tack on a qualifier. I'm not referring to all bathroom graffiti--especially not the random expletives and pictures of penises you see everywhere. But when bathroom graffiti means something, that's when it becomes powerful--when it's honest, meaningful, real.

I took my camera to Mason Hall, to show you what I mean. It felt strange, seeking something photo-worthy in a bathroom. I don't think you can get any farther from "high art." To avoid freaking anyone out, I waited until the bathroom was empty, and then stepped into a stall and started snapping pictures. Then someone came in, and I waited--waited a few more seconds--

And suddenly, from the stall next to me, there was a bright flash and the click of an expensive shutter.

Someone else had brought her camera, for the same reason I had: there was something here. Something meaningful in the confessions and advice and random thoughts that probably wouldn't last a month. In fact, the graffiti is somehow more meaningful because it will soon be covered, erased. It is temporary, marginal, fleeting. But because of that, it's also honest and completely unselfconscious. Online forums, and especially websites like Postsecret, have become so popular because they allow people the same outlet as urban graffiti and bathroom writing, only on a much larger scale.

Photos to come.

#Mubarak Fail

A couple of months ago, Egypt tweeted a revolution. But some of the most memorable images--besides the millions of Egyptians converging on Tahrir Square--were the protest signs. No one can argue that Egyptians don't have a sense of humor. :)

Embracing the role of Twitter.


"Go home already, my hand hurts!"


Speaks for itself.

The Internet sticks it to Mubarak.

This isn't a protest sign, exactly, but it demonstrates a collision of old and new, the use of a very organic, traditional means of protest to draw people's attention to the crucible of the new revolution: Twitter.

Oh No You Didn't

In June 2010, as reported by Newsweek, "a young Alexandria businessman named Khaled Said, who had posted a video on the Web showing cops pilfering pot from a drug bust, was assaulted at an Internet café by local police. They dragged him outside and beat him to death in broad daylight."

Photos of Khaled Said's "battered corpse" went viral. Before technology, the news would've spread by word-of-mouth, newspaper headlines, and snail mail--not slow, exactly, but slower.

Thanks to the Internet, the story spread like wildfire. Wael Ghonim, a 30-year-old Egyptian techie, started a facebook page called "We Are All Khaled Said," and very soon, it became the center for a powerful campaign against Egypt's police brutality. Ghonim updated the page with a constant stream of news, photos, and videos.

When Tunisia toppled their dictator on Jan. 14, Ghonim invited the "Khaled Said" fans--all 350,000 of them--to a protest.

Within three days, 50,000 people clicked "yes."

Mubarak's government cut off the Internet, in a kind of last-ditch desperation, but it was too late to stop what had already been set in motion. Mubarak wasn't just blowing out a candle. He was fighting a fire.

Social Media pt. 2: All In Moderation

After my latest post, it might seem like I've got a vendetta against social media. So it's time to set the record straight.

I love it.

Facebook, Skype, Twitter--I confess. I think it's all amazing. Facebook helps me keep in touch with friends in England, Australia, and Italy. Skype has led my mom, my sister, and me to some of the most ridiculous chat conversations ever. And Twitter is hilarious--check out Misha Collins and his rhino portions in plastic-lined envelopes (long story).

Then again, sometimes there's a glorification of trash. We know the content is terrible, but we just take it because it's there (and sometimes purely because it's terrible--poor Rebecca Black). We've learned to expect instant gratification, and maybe we've lost something along the way. But even though new technologies present risks of time-wasting and social alienation, I'm pretty sure the pros outweigh the cons.

Here's a halfway-relevent analogy: we've all heard of people who sue fast food joints for making them fat and unhealthy. In this case, an obese worker was actually awarded $17,500 in damages. The problem: as much as I hate the grease-soaked French fries and cholesterol-packed burgers at McDonalds, you are the only one responsible for what you consume. Recently, some states have been considering legislation to protect fast food companies; the proposed "Cheeseburger Bill" in Minnesota, for example, would "prohibit Minnesotans from suing for weight problems brought on by eating a company's food."

Fast food and social media. Admittedly, a messy analogy. But here's the point: the internet offers endless possibilities. Communication is easier than ever before. Information and entertainment is available at our fingertips. But so is an endless stream of detritus. Technology is here to stay, and if we choose to stuff ourselves full of virtual Big Macs and Supersized time-wasters, there's not much anyone can do about it.

Social Media pt. 1: Lonely Nation

Some critics of social media have argued that Twitter and Facebook are a waste of time--meaningless chatter, a tool of endless procrastination, a cause of both narcissism and alienation. And, admittedly, the critics aren't entirely wrong. According to psychologist Aric Sigman, "Time that was previously spent interacting socially has increasingly been displaced by the virtual variety."

Well, there's a no-brainer. I think anyone in an industrialized nation--and especially any American college student--can recognize how drastically virtual life has edged into our reality. My friends have spent hours laughing over youtube videos. (Kittens Inspired by Kittens and The Count Censored were classics.) Every day, I hear students at UofM talking about how much time they waste on Facebook. And Twitter keeps the illusion going. We feel like we're connecting with other people--and maybe we are--but at the same time, we're just sitting in front of a glowing computer screen, clicking buttons and typing on a keyboard.

It's a form of social isolation that nobody could've imagined twenty years ago.



Voyeurism

Let's be honest.....it's weird.  We're all putting our lives on display, living like the star of our own feature film. Twitter makes it worse. And don't get me wrong--on some level, I love Twitter. But do people actually care what you ate for breakfast, or that you're going to the gym to work off that mocha latte?

And the answer, surprisingly, is yes. People do.



T.M.I.

This one speaks for itself. We've reached the point where everybody and your mom is on Facebook--literally. If anybody posts pictures of you French-kissing your (female) friend at the bar or drinking straight out of a bottle of Grey Goose, you'll have a lot of explaining to do with your boss (or maybe your parents) in the morning.

And while some people use caution in their Facebook posts, others seem to have lost the ability to censor themselves. Do we need to know about your bowel movement issues, or your mysterious rash? No, probably not. Even worse: do you really need to announce: "PPL R SO FAKE, guess i no who ma real friendz r" every other day? We got the point the first 513 times. And I'll never understand the Facebook users who post pictures of themselves drinking/smoking/shooting up.

1. No one's impressed.
2. It's a great way to get fired.

The internet presents us with other time-wasters, too. If not for online TV shows, for example, I wouldn't have spent countless hours of my life watching entire seasons of Arrested Development, Pushing Daisies, and Doctor Who. On the one hand, I love them.

On the other hand, it makes it easy to waste my time doing something other than living.

Banksy: "The Next Warhol"

The Girl With the Red Balloon
When my sister and I went to Paris, we stayed in a B&B on the outskirts of the city. Some online reviewers called the neighborhood seedy and even dangerous--it wasn't. Not really. But it wasn't what most people imagine when they think of Paris, either.

On the first night, on the bus into the main part of Paris, we drove under a dark overpass, and on the concrete wall I saw a beautiful piece of graffiti art: a little girl, her hair and her skirt lifting in the breeze, her hand outstretched toward the string of a heart-shaped red balloon. The string is close to her fingers, within inches, but the viewer already knows she won't catch it. In fact, I'm still not sure if she was trying to catch the balloon or letting it go.

We had an amazing time in Paris. We left Paris. And then I kicked myself for not taking a picture of the girl with the red balloon.

Months later, back at UofM, I decided on a whim to search the graffiti on Google. I knew it was a long shot--but I was bored. Might as well see if some other traveler had spotted the beautiful piece of street art and snapped a picture. I crossed my fingers for one accurate result.

I found hundreds.

Humanity and Red Lipstick
As it turns out, the girl with the red balloon is one of the classic images of Banksy, an anonymous British tagger whose pseudonym is almost legendary in the London (and worldwide) graffiti scene. His stencils are famous--especially the girl with the red balloon, which I stumbled upon in Paris.

According to an article in Esquire, Banksy's manifesto is a diary entry of a British officer who'd been among the first to liberate a concentration camp:

"It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don't know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for these internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the post mortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tattooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity."

Legendary Artist or Vandal with a Spray Can?

In the Esquire article, everybody knows Banksy's name. One man refers to him as "the next Warhol." But like the original mural in Graffiti Alley of Ann Arbor, Banksy's work is temporary--and, arguably, illegal. His passionate following demonstrates the fine line between vandalism and art (and the tendency for the two categories to overlap). Banksy's art is so powerful because it's NOT framed in a museum, behind glass. It's unsanctioned. On the margins. Banksy uses his stencils, sometimes whimsical, sometimes deadly serious, and sometimes both, to critique the world on the stage where everything intersects: the streets.

On Banksy's website, anyone can look through some of Banksy's art. And Google Images provides an even bigger gallery. His stencils resonate with numerous themes: anti-war, anti-capitalism, issues of sex and violence, environmental awareness, and loneliness/alienation, among countless others.

 

Banksy isn't a legend with everyone. According to the New Yorker, some critics feel that Banksy's art "glorifies what is essentially vandalism," and that his work contains "some wit . . . some cleverness--and a massive bucket of hot steaming hype."

On the other hand, it could be argued that Banksy's art is not as marginalized and alternative as he (or, rather, his supporters) would like it to be; his pieces have been known to sell for thousands of pounds, and his name pops up everywhere. But his fame isn't typical of our Hollywood-generated culture. His name is out there, his art increasingly mainstream, because people embrace his rebellion against artistic norms and his mode of critique. Banksy says graffiti speaks for those whose voices often aren't heard, and in the modern capitalist machine, there are many who feel their voices aren't heard.

"Bus stops are far more interesting and useful places to have art than in museums. Graffiti has more chance of meaning something or changing stuff than anything indoors. Graffiti has been used to start revolutions, stop wars, and generally is the voice of people who aren't listened to. Graffiti is one of those few tools you have if you have almost nothing. And even if you don't come up with a picture to cure world poverty you can make somebody smile while they're having a piss."
--Banksy, Banging Your Head Against A Brick Wall

Remix Storytelling

When I was little, Disney's Cinderella was my favorite movie. I mean, ever. At age three, I watched the movie every single day and never got tired of it (which is more than I can say for my mom). Even now, eighteen years older--and with the ability to recognize the issues in some of Disney's works--I still adore that movie. But now I'm aware of the rich history behind the simple fairy tale.



Fairy Tale Remix

This semester, in my Fantasies of Childhood literature class, we traced the origin of Cinderella in detail. In 1812, the Brothers Grimm published their first volume of folk tales. But these weren't original; they were based on the brothers traveling the countryside, talking to peasants who had heard stories passed down. The original folk tales were passed down orally, and they were MUCH darker...the Grimms were Christians, and they cleaned up the stories' most gruesome and sexual elements.

But they didn't cut out ALL the good stuff. The original Cinderella story resonates with danger and a twisted morality. When Cinderella's father thinks she's climbed up a pear tree to escape a search party, he chops the tree down. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't a typical show of fatherly concern. The stepsisters, meanwhile, are so desperate to fit the glass slipper that one girl chops off her big toe, and other other slices off a chunk of her heel. (Disney wisely chose not to include that part.) And in the end, the stepsisters show up at Cinderella's royal wedding, and her pigeon friends--cheery, chirpy bluebirds in the Disney movie--swoop down and peck the stepsisters' eyes out.

This was the story that the Grimms recorded. Most likely, the original (spoken) tale in the German countryside was even more gruesome. As years passed, the Grimms toned down the darkness in some of their fairy tales--they cut out the mutilation at Cinderella's wedding, for instance.

But most people don't know that the story reaches back even further. In 1634, Neopolitan soldier and government official Giambattista Basile wrote about a young girl named Cenerentola, which shared the common features of a wicked stepmother and stepsisters, a magical transformation, and a missing slipper. And some decades later, in 1697, folklorist Charles Perrault wrote the version most familiar to us today: a fairy godmother, a pumpkin transformed into a carriage, and glass (not golden, like in the Grimms' version) slippers. There are even some who argue that Cinderella dates back to classical antiquity: an ancient Greek historian, Strabo, wrote of a girl whose sandal was carried away by eagles. The king found it and, intrigued by its beauty, sent out messengers to find the girl who fit the mysterious sandal.

This was written more than 2000 years ago.



Cinderella in the Modern World

Most of us know the Disney version best. Under closer examination, this sugary G-rated movie is a prime example of remix storytelling. Disney pulled the fairy godmother and glass slippers from Perrault's version; they lifted the bird-helpers from the Grimm version. And they sanitized it all, to make it appropriate for very young audiences. And versions of Disney movies (based on century-old stories, based on even-older oral folk tales) are STILL being created--look at Mark Rosman's "A Cinderella Story," starring Hilary Duff in 2004, or even "Beastly," starring Alex Pettyfer and released just this year. It's overwhelming to think that new works of art are still being created on the foundation of a simple story from 1634.