Wilton’s Blog

I think that the most important aspect of Christine Harold’s Conclusion to OurSpace is her insistence on treating publics not as ignorant, frightened subjects of corporate control, but as creatively powerful groups of people capable of interacting with and shaping culture. Viewing society as docile, “huddled masses” waiting to be instructed on what to buy and how to think by corporate America is a blatant oversimplification of participation in consumer society. Furthermore, this view perpetuates the inside-outside dichotomy upon which consumer marketing thrives. Having a “counterculture” simply gives corporations and advertisers another avenue for marketing strategy and creates the “outsider” as its own brand. As Harold suggests, people are not simply pawns of “the system,” incapable of independent thought. Nor can one “get outside” of consumerism through rejecting capitalism. We are all inherently members of consumer society—but this does not mean we are brainless automatons controlled by “the man.” Again, as Harold suggests, consumers are quite capable of collaboration and cultural creation within the technologies provided by our convergence culture.

Wilton Wright

This week’s reading of “Why Heather Can Write”—the fifth chapter of Henry Jenkins’ Convergence Culture—initiates many interesting questions about the new relationship forming between large, organized fan basis and the media conglomerates who own the rights to the properties the fan basis enjoy. In the previous chapter, Jenkins called the creation of fan fiction a return to a modified version of folk art in which the consumers of an entertainment product “appropriate” elements of the original work and create a new stories and art that are their own original expression. The Potter Wars illustrate a perfect example of a modern media conglomerate’s fear and misunderstanding of fan culture. After Warner Bros. purchased the film rights to the Harry Potter franchise, they began attempting to shut down some fan websites. However, these “bullying” tactics did not scare the fan community but united them in a front against Warner. What most interested me about Warner’s attempts to shut down fan sites was not the fan community’s reaction to it (we have already seen how powerful fan communities can become when focused upon a common goal) but instead was the possible reasons for their forceful reaction. It seems as though this reaction not only reflects Warner’s desire to prevent people from profiting from their intellectual property (as they stated) but also a fearful reaction of large media conglomerates to these new, larger, more connected fan communities. For decades the advertising industry has worked diligently to shape the American populace into a passive media receptacle (Century of the Self as evidence). And for the most part, society has obliged. We have indeed become consumers on a scale even Bernays himself probably never imagined. Yet the internet revolution has threatened to turn that typical consumerist passivity on its head. With the internet, fans have become actual participants in the discussion, dissemination and even creation of their favorite entertainment works. I think Warner’s initial reaction to Harry Potter websites was a knee-jerk attempt to put fans “back in their places” of inactivity and consumption. What Warner quickly found out and what many media conglomerates have been forced to address is that the technological revolution produced by the internet is a double-edged sword for them: while it has created many new ways to distribute and capitalize on their products, it has also created a fan base that is much more active and demanding.

Wilton Wright

This week’s readings interested me most in the way in which they seem to speak to one another. In his essay “Relational Aesthetics” Nicolas Bourriaud compares the art exhibition to other mediums of artistic expression such as television and books. Bourriaud states that the exhibition differs from other mediums because it produces its own “specific sociability” or interactive space, whereas other mediums are consumed or examined in private (161). After reading the fourth chapter of Henry Jenkins’ book about the prevalence of fan fiction and fan-made film, I began to think about what Bourriaud describes as the “social interstice.” Although written less than ten years ago, it seems that the rise to prominence of the internet has reshaped this notion of the social interstice. Bourriaud saw exhibitions as spaces that created social interactions different from those “forced” upon us in everyday life. In the same sense, the fan communities and fan-fiction Jenkins describes seems to also serve this purpose. These fan communities arise not as sites of forced social interactions, but as organic areas of socialization based upon shared interest. Also like Bourriaud’s art exhibition, fan communities seem to engage in some form of this “social interstice” through the creation of their fan fiction. Fan fiction, like the fervent Star Wars fiction that Jenkins describes, exists outside of the control of the production companies that have the rights to the original work. Because most fan fiction is produced at the fans expense and is shared freely in fan communities, it exemplifies this extra-capitalist exchange described by Bourriaud. It seems that the internet along with the influx of technology that we have experienced in the last decade has remade “folk art” (as Jenkins describes it) into something much more comparable to the large media productions to which we are accustomed and has, in the process, has allowed new communities to define their own systems of exchange and social interaction outside of the forced social situations of everyday life.

Wilton Wright

In the second chapter of his book, Henry Jenkins notes Janet Murray’s comparison of The Matrix to William Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County (page 116). I was immediately struck, and a little upset I did not make this connection myself. Created decades apart, these two worlds seem to mirror one another (or rather, The Matrix seems to mimic Yoknapatawpha) in many respects. Both worlds are multigenerational and the stories are told through a variety of perspectives. Both Faulkner’s world and the Wachowski brothers’ creation contain autonomous stories—whole in and of themselves, but richer when examined alongside other, related works. The biggest difference between these two worlds (besides Faulkner’s preeminence as one of the greatest American authors) is the medium through which they take place. While Faulkner’s world—a creation of the early twentieth century—is found exclusively within the realm of literary art, the world of The Matrix cuts across multiple media such as film, print, video games, etc. (hence the chapter’s subtitle, “The Matrix and Transmedia Storytelling”). Although it may not have the symbolic power and cultural resonance of Faulkner’s work, one may see the world of The Matrix as the Yoknapatawpha of the twenty-first century. Yet this notion of The Matrix highlights another important distinction between the two worlds: Yoknapatawpha was the work of Faulkner and Faulkner alone, while the world of The Matrix is the product of what Jenkins calls “collaborative authorship,” (111). In order to fulfill the demands of such an interactive world, the Wachowski brothers assembled many respected artists from the comic sphere, from the gaming world and from the world of film animation and gave them relative freedom to create their own stories, and address their own artistic concerns within the framework of The Matrix.

Wilton Wright

This week, Mark Dery’s “Culture Jamming” caused me to think about the rise of televised political manipulation. As The Century of the Self documentaries proved, mass consumer manipulation became prominent in the early 20^th century. And it certainly was not long before politicians began to use tactics of advertising to sell themselves to the newly forming consumer public. According to Dery, this manipulation seemed to have reached its crescendo during the Presidency of Ronald Reagan (Dery refers to him as “a TV conjuration”). Dery’s criticism of the Reagan-era media—a “lapdog” for the President—caused me to think about today’s media. We certainly no longer have a “lapdog” media. Although “mudslinging” is a long standing tradition in political campaigns, today’s vicious, story-at-all-costs media seems to be a reaction against what many (Dery included) saw as the media’s weakest moment. Today, every candidate is scrutinized to the utmost degree (by both his or her opponent and by the media). However political dissection today is less focused on political issues and more on personal disgrace. Dery notes that Reagan’s campaign team was able to “package” the President in a way that had never before been accomplished. The result was a media-favored figure that was little more than a collection of images and catch phrases. Today no one is (or appears to be) “untouchable”. Yet actual political issues are still marginalized in favor of sensationalist media bent on uncovering the next major scandal. Do not get me wrong: I believe candidates’ personal lives should remain subject to scrutiny; the public has a right to know if someone representing them has committed a crime, or conspired to cover something up. However, it seems in today’s entertainment-style media that the issues are discussed only as a side-note, or in some specialized forum, separated from the news items of “peak interest.” It is no wonder then, that many Jammers see this and feel the need to react against it.

Wilton Wright

The knowledge communities formed by fans of Survivor and other reality shows as described by Henry Jenkins mark a new level of interactivity between fan and product. These communities that form in order to “spoil” plots and divulge secret information certainly fit as some form of the Collective Intelligence described by Pierre Levy. However Jenkins’ description of internet fan forums (spoiler sites) in Convergence Culture appears to be a much less utopian view of a knowledge community than Levy’s theory initially recognizes. Jenkins describes episode spoiling as a competition between consumers (fans) and producers. This competition is a not-so-subtle struggle by the knowledge community to use any resource to unlock hidden information on Survivor’s location, cast and outcomes. Beyond this necessary competition (necessary in that producers must actively engage in misleading spoiler fans in order to protect the show) there appears to be another competition amongst fans. Skepticism is profoundly necessary in any knowledge community in order to test the theories and knowledge produced by its somewhat anonymous members. However, the skepticism of the spoiler community must be continually heightened because some of the community members intentionally provide false information and guesses as fact. In addition, spoilers are constantly vigilant for misinformation provided by the show’s producers—who may pose as community members in order to mislead fans. Levy’s idea of Collective Intelligence appears to neglect the possibility of intentional informational sabotage. This misdirection has the potential to disrupt the infrastructure of any given knowledge community: if one cannot find reliable (or semi-reliable) information, why remain a part of the community? In general, knowledge communities will probably survive this dilemma by corroborating evidence among the community members. However the relative anonymity of the knowledge community precludes finality. No individual can ever be certain that a given spoiler is accurate or truthful—even the elite of the knowledge community are sometimes wrong. This uncertainty seems to be a potential problem for any collective intelligence community. Although not strong enough to destroy a knowledge community, fear of misinformation cast an undeniable shadow over the process of collective intelligence.

Wilton Wright

This week, I was struck by Guy Debord’s “Toward a Situationist International” as well as Christine Harold’s comments on SI in Ourspace. Having never been exposed to the writings or philosophy of Guy Debord, I initially found it difficult to grasp his definition of “the Spectacle.” It seemed at first to be an amorphous construct (possibly from or involved with the government) forcing conformity of the French citizenry. It seemed to me to be some kind of ideological boogieman that I would never comprehend—let alone come into contact with. I even laughed to myself when reading in Ourspace about Situationist International’s fear that the Spectacle’s power would grow so great that it would be able to subvert the actions of revolt and “re-sell it as a pure image (page 12). However, following our class discussion and the clarification of the Spectacle (as I understand it now it seems to be any media form that propagates consumerism and government control) I began to see that it has done just that. If the current American media is indeed part of the Spectacle, then it certainly has not only weathered rebellion, but consumed it and transformed it into new, fun images. I am specifically referring to the rebellion of the 1960’s and 70’s (although this is probably true of other lesser-know movements as well)—which was certainly anti-government, anti-consumer, and anti-media. Now the rebellion of those decades is often portrayed as a comical footnote. The music of the time period is played in countless commercial advertisements; the “outrageous” clothing of the era comes into and out of fashion with regularity. The slogans of anti-war protests from these past decades are now used as punch lines (think of “free love” and “Give peace a chance”). The American Spectacle has successfully destroyed the ideals of past rebellions and now modern advertisers package the image of the “loner” and the “rebel” and use them to draw in a demographic of consumers. It appears that Debord’s and Situationist International’s fear of the Spectacle was both warranted and highly prophetic.

Wilton Wright

Art requires interpretation and reception. This is no system shock or fundamental shift in the way I think about literature or art. However Umberto Eco’s ideas about the duality of art (its nature as both closed and open), especially his argument concerning art’s “openness” forced me to review my own ideas on the function and purpose of art. In “Poetics of the Open Work” Eco described a relative openness of art that requires its viewers (or readers or listeners) to actively engage themselves in the work. Most college freshmen know that viewing an artistic work or reading a piece of literature is not an exercise in passively receiving information but an active pursuit of meaning. What intrigued me about Eco’s argument was the idea that each reader will invariably interpret art differently. Each of our sociocultural identities and personal perspectives shapes the way we view and interpret a work of art. This negates the possibility of mere consumption of art in which a person seeks to comprehend a predetermined message or meaning from the artist or author. Instead one’s own education, cultural background and perspective reshapes a work of art and constructs new meaning—independent of others (even the artist’s) view of the work. This view of art reminds me of Roland Barthes “From Work to Text” in which Barthes describes Text as a social space in which the interpretation the Text is in constant flux. The ideas of the open work and the Text appear to be intertwined: both describe art (Barthes describes specifically literary art) as an act of interactivity between the viewer and the artwork. Both somewhat negate the importance of the artist and uncover the transformative power of art. I am not simply referring to the power of art to transform the viewer, but the symbiotic interaction of the viewer and the artwork in which both are transformed (if only temporarily) when one truly engages art.

Wilton Wright

Over the last few years, I have come to identify myself as (if not a cynic) a skeptic. I’m always on alert for the messages commercials convey. The outrageous acts of celebrities and sports figures rarely surprise me. I believe little (if any) of what comes out of the mouths of politicians. So, after watching the first two parts of “The Century of the Self,” I was astonished to see how naive I truly was. I had heard the name of Edward Bernays before, but did not understand his power and influence over the shape of America’s psychological landscape. I bought the hype. I believed the propaganda that started with the World’s Fair in the 1950’s: that American Democracy (or Democratic Republicanism) and consumerism is inseparable. Worse yet, I wasn’t even aware that I “believed” anything. I thought the link between Democratic government and business was a “fact” that had proven itself over time. Initially, I kicked myself for not questioning the link sooner. But how could I have known? I was born into a world in which consumerism appears to be the mode of life for everyone. We are no longer encouraged to be consumers in order to help the economy and thereby help Democracy flourish, we are all assumed to be consumers and are now simply directed (manipulated) by different media outlets what to purchase. Do not misunderstand: I am not anti-Capitalism. I am aware of my role as consumer and not ashamed to be a part of the consumer culture. However, I am anti-manipulation. What Bernays and his successors in the advertising and public relations fields have done so well is ingrain the doctrine of consumerism into the collective conscience of the public—so much so that many (including myself until recently) are not even aware that there are any alternatives.

Wilton Wright

In this week’s reading, “The Production of the Social Space as Art,” Okwui Enwezor documents the postcolonial social movements of two African artistic-political groups. Although early in his essay, Enwezor mentions postcolonial theorist Frantz Fanon for his questioning of the “role of the spectator” (Enwezor 229), it is Fanon’s description of colonial artistic culture in The Wretched of the Earth that resonated with me when reading about both Le Groupe Amos and Huit Facettes. While I only read a small section of Fanon’s book, his descriptions of the rise and modification of national culture under colonial oppression seems to mirror that of Enwezor’s of these two distinctly postcolonial groups. It seems that these postcolonial collectives (Le Groupe Amos does not recognize itself as an artistic collective) form a more articulated and directed version of Fanon’s colonially oppressed culture. Fanon states that the colonial natives begin to organize and consolidate in revolt of their oppressors (Fanon 1588). The result of this unity is a modification of their historic, oral and folk traditions (1589). This modification is mirrored in both collectives. Le Groupe Amos uses both French (the Congo’s official language) as well as common dialects (such as Lingala) to open up debate over social and political concern (Enwezor 236), while they also use multiple media (audio recordings, video, live theater) to expand the “public sphere” (239). Huit Facettes artistically collaborates with marginalized poor to further engage and empower the often “invisible” villagers (245). The cohesion between the colonial and postcolonial artistic culture suggests that the effects of colonial oppression reverberate far beyond the end of foreign occupation. Instead, some form of cultural occupation seems to linger in the psyches of both the government and the artistic community, creating a tension between the two entities which consequently see each other as “enemy.”

Although this is an informal response, I felt obliged to provide citation for the Fanon work, since it comes from outside of our assigned reading.

Fanon, Frantz. From Our National Culture. The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch. New York: Norton, 2001. 1587-1593.