2/09/2009

The Horror of Genres (late 80s edition)

Some of those in the know like to refer to severely conceptual architecture as "architectural fiction". So, file this under, "Fictious-Arcitectural-Fiction":


"These drawings were made—in Hollywood and Pinewood Studios, England—for a movie that was never made. The movie called Alien3 that was made and seen around the world was conceived and directed by David Fincher, and is notable for it’s unremarkable sets and its unrelenting grimness. The movie I made designs for was directed by Vincent Ward, but ended in its early stages, when he left the project.

The story of the Ward movie was radically different, though it deployed the same basic characters, in that the setting was a religious colony that had escaped the earth and inhabited an abandoned commercial facility deep in space. They had adopted a Medieval way of life, without electricity or modern technology. The Ripley-Alien drama was to be played out inside this crumbling, artificial world. Under Ward’s direction, this would have become something highly original, a movie in which the architecture would have had a central part."




The original Alien, in my conception, spawns a new genre of SF called, "SF Horror", (carrying on by such films as Event Horizon, for example) in an aesthetic (while we are genre-fying like nobody's business) I would title "techni-organo-gothic" (you can just shoot me now).

Obviously, if this potential third movie had been made, techni-organo-gothic would not be my categorical fantasy, but an actual term, and there would be discussion lists, blog-rings, and fetish porn for "Toggers" who dreamed of going into space, colonizing other worlds, and becoming infected with apocalyptic parasites.

So, like, too bad and stuff.

2/05/2009

Amazing People Die Every Day



Skinny Jeans are for poseurs.



Photo by Ann Summa, used completely and utterly without permission. More of her great pictures of punk are at her website.

2/04/2009

Embedded Linx

I came across this game on some of the architectural blogs: pairing up architecture with representative music. (See list at the bottom for the other players).

Now, I know next to nothing about architecture, but the game of pairing music with things is too good not to play. So instead of picking examples of various architecture movements, which would be silly for me to even attempt, I chose places in New York City. This is something I do know something about, and place is certainly representative of the aesthetics of space in a big way, if a bit more of a milieu, rather than positive design.

Anyway, here we go! Welcome to New York! (more esoteric bullshit will certainly follow in later posts.)


Queens

and


Tribe Called Quest (Watch at the same time if you can.)

*********************************

Times Square

and


Coltrane (I wrote an essay about this once.)

*******************


Chelsea

and


Velvet Underground (if you want to talk about architecture, listen to the song with headphones. Take one headphone off. Put it back on. Take the other one off. Put it back on. Repeat.)

***********************


Canal Street, Manhattan Bridge

and


Eric B. and Rakim (its cliche to talk about hip-hop and 'the streets', but New York streets, the actual physical streets, are something else. If you listen to hip-hop and pound the pavement, you totally know what I mean.)

***************************


The Bowery


The Ramones (what's a bigger cultural force? Punk or hip-hop? Both born in NYC.)

************************


Brooklyn


Modern Romance (what's old is new. What's lame is hip again. Damn it, brooklyn.)






Original posters, and originators of the game:

"Nasty, Brutalist and Short": this
"Fantastic Journal": one, two, and three
"Mockitecture": aay, bee, and see




POD is FKD

I've been reading a lot of publishing blogs lately, and the blogs of writers interested in publishing, and web 2.0 sites about do-it-yourself publishing, and angry blog comments about publishers and publishing.

And I work for a printer. And I write.

Because of these factors, I have been thinking about the future of printing and publishing to an fairly intense degree of late. So please excuse if the following essay makes the issues seem perhaps more dire than they might be the average person. I am, you might say, in the cognitive "thick" of it right now.

But, if you are in any way engaged with any of those categories listed above, then you might want to listen, because I think this is important for all of us.

The POD (print-on-demand) model is fucked. IT IS A REALLY BAD THING. I am saying this because it is one of the models towards which the printers, publishers, and writers are now drunkenly stumbling towards, hand in hand in hand.

I KNOW: it sounds great for many reasons. The writers can avoid the brutal publishing hierarchy, which is looking more and more like a reality show. The printers can utilize new digital printing technology to make money off short-run jobs, gaining a brand new customer base. And publishers can pick up books that have already been test marketed, more or less getting their prototyping for free.

It seems like everybody wins. But everybody is losing.

HERE'S WHY: the only thing this model is doing in putting words into print. I know, I know: 'but isn't that the point?'

NO: the point is distributing literature.

Distributing literature certainly encompasses many of the features of the POD model. For literature to be distributed, books must be actually made. Right? Well, at least in the old days.

Makin' books is less than half the battle. Let's sum up the steps to Distributing Literature:

1. Author, over a period of time, somehow produces a manuscript.
2. The manuscript must be edited. Must be edited.
3. From all the manuscripts which exist, some should be destroyed. A few should eventually be published.
4. The manuscript must be transformed into a print-ready document.
5. The document must be printed on paper (or on "e-"), and bound into a volume.
6. The volume must now be given, sold, lent, or forced upon a reader.

In the old days, the author took care of #1, the publisher handled #2-4, the printer did #5, and the distributor did #6. Under the POD model, the author is now responsible for #1-3 or 4, the printer/publisher combine for #4 and 5, and the baton is handed back to the author for #6, with the combine taking a cut (usually). Or a publisher can step in afterward, picking up #6 or starting the whole process over if they wish.

The most obvious problem is authors are, by themselves, not capable of anything other than #1. Perhaps they can use the Internet to work on #6, but #2 and 3, forget it.

But perhaps more seriously, the printer/publisher combine is certainly not interested in #2 and #3 in the slightest. The model works on the fact that the more authors they have lining up, the more profit they stand to make. What they've done is figured out a way to pimp short-runs together into a money-making harem, able to make up the quantity they are unable to sell through old-school published books via a dearth of authors, simply falling over themselves to pay to get into print.

And this is hardly the only problem. What do authors know about #5? Book quality? I'm not saying that POD is necessarily garbage. But how many POD authors choose hard-backing? Acid-free paper? A good binding? These customers want "book in print". The rest is details.

But then comes the real bomb. #6.

I'm not saying publishers have brilliant marketing strategies. Clearly, times have shown this requires as much work as anything. But what, if anything, can one learn about a book from a blog? From Twitter? These are free, and pretty brilliant free products at that. But it is only so much free junk mail, piling up with the rest of the folks trying to hype themselves in the big Internet hype pool. Yes, particularly buoyant books have floated to the top. But look at the detrius, sinking to the ocean floor!

And where do these darlings of POD end up?

AMAZON.

The fucking Walmart of books. This is the part that really gets me. POD is being hyped as DIY, but all of these folks so stoked about "making my own book" are then turning around and giving most of the profit to the internet behemoth killing off your local book store. You sell your book from your blog, you use Pay Pal. You sell it with iUniverse or one of the others, and you use Amazon. Maybe you print off fifty extra copies and take them to consign at your local shop. Maybe they take you, maybe they don't. Maybe you sell a few, maybe you don't. But you know most of your sales are going to come online, where you're doing your real hype. And the reason is, your local bookshop still cares about literature. They stock the books they like (and maybe a few vampire ones) because they think they're still distributing literature. Maybe soon they will realize they need to jump on board the hype machine and move product, so they will listen to the Amazon reviews and comb the blogs, and maybe even start a web site of their own. But under the POD model, the local booksellers are the only ones still thinking of books as literature, and not crap to be pushed out to whomever will take them. And they're the ones who are going to catch it in the face when the distribution network for actual literature dries up.

I'm not a proponent of the old days. I'm not going to tell you a book is the doorway to the immaculate soul, and ask you to burn your e-reader and tattoo your library card number on your forehead (but really, please do this). I'm also not attempting to morally sway people. I know folks will still do POD because they want to see their work in print, and love ordering things online. But if the art of distributing literature is to be saved at all, we cannot rely on POD. We, the authors, as the base of pillar, have to stand up and reform this industry.

Here are some things I would stand behind:

Actual DIY
: If you want to see your work in print, and want to push it through yourself, do it yourself. Find out the production in each step--typesetting, printing, cutting, and binding. I work for a small print shop, and I can tell you if you priced out the job right you could do it as cheap yourself as any POD plant. Or hand bind it! It's not that hard. I did my novella. Only thing I paid for was paper, toner, and cutting (which I actually did myself, but at work). By jumping into the product that is POD, you are the customer, not the seller. And making "getting into print" a commodity does not benefit us.

More than paperback: The POD model seems set up almost universally around the the 4-5" x 6-7" soft cover, perfect-bound book (although I understand there are companies who specialize in typical comic formats as well, and of course, photography books). This is because it is formulaic, easy to run and reproduce, and in the mind of the customer, the authors, it "looks like a real book". This is because it also worked well for big publishers in the "run and reproduce" category, it is sells as a trade paperback. But if the means of production are going to evolve for literature, its finally form will probably change as well. There are many cheaper alternatives, which are just as readable, and just as nice. They also have the potential to distinguish your book from the rest. Chap-books, fold-outs, unconventional sizes, hand-made cloth bindings, tape bindings or other sorts of bindings might work well for your piece, and are often cheaper or easily done yourself with a little bit of hand work. It's time to think about our books creatively, not just trying squeeze our book into the mold the POD crowd is looking to sell. Writing a cookbook? Think about a coil binding. Poetry, or unconventional novel? Try getting your sheets cut to size, then add your own pull out pages and invest in a heavy stapler for the binding (you can even get colored staples these days). Put the craft back in bookmaking. It could be what makes your book loved. (Or think about what a "hand-bound by the author" copy of your first novel will go for on eBay once you've won a Pulitzer... that's what I do. :)

New Publishing: The thing that we have to figure out as authors, is how to take care of steps #2, 3, and 6. Without these, we are flooding a struggling marketplace with crap, and that is a sure way to destroy demand completely. My idea is simple: don't go it alone! POD is dividing and destroying us. We were already set against each other by the competition of the publishing market. And now we are a mob, lining up at the edge of the Internet to throw our books (and our money) into the murky depths. Join the Syndicate! If you're an author, you know other authors! Get together, and edit and proof each others work. Then, split print costs among yourselves. Or do the POD, but make sure you handle steps #2, 3 and 6 yourself, with due diligence! BE BRUTAL with steps 2 and 3. Hurt your friends feelings--save literature. It's the only thing that will save us as authors. Print on your own demand. Then, work the marketing strategies together. Form your own imprint. Some of the greatest publishing entities in history were formed by authors and literature critics themselves, and the costs necessary have never been lower. Don't whore yourself to POD and Amazon any longer. Join us! (Or don't join me, make your own damn imprint!)

The Internet
: The Internet is great. The best part about it is it can be run by the users. Why be part of the POD/swill combine? Why join the Amazon mob? Why give your work to another company that will only do what you could have done yourself? Experiment with new marketing strategies, don't just flood Twitter and the message boards (see above). Produce your own audio books. Make your own e-books, in non-DRM format. Produce your own video game! It's the Internet, man!

The good thing about authors is there are tons of us, and we care. If we only wanted to be famous, we would be buying turntables, or guitars, something else. We care about literature. And luckily, we are the ones who control the production. Now we just need to push that care from the bottom on up.

2/03/2009

404 Error: This Place is not a Place

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGLE!!!!!

Using my totally amazing Voice Search in my free Google Mobile App on my iPhone, I quickly and easily spoke the words, "post office" to find the nearest United States Postal Service Branch Office to my vicinity, that being zip code 97215.

With the amazing technology of Google zipping my immediate whim to the super-absorbent database of Google Inc, somewhere in an undisclosed Google-cation using even less green energy than before, my results where quickly displayed from my multi-touch display screen to my multi-look ocular-pits.

I activated my Jacket-Closure and rotated my Physical Home Security tension assembly to block unauthorized access while I was physic-mobile. Then, utilizing my quick-and-easy GeneticCorp Bipedal Stature Upgrades, I walked immediately to...

A POST OFFICE THAT DOESN'T FUCKING EXIST!!!!!


Boy, was my Ornery-Unit ringing it's new custom ring tone! I almost walked right in to that chiropractor's office and told them just what I thought of the biggest most intriguing philosophied global corporation shaping the internet of the future today!

But don't worry, I did the right thing. I walked right home, and logged on to my account, and left a comment telling the user who made that custom location that no, there is no post office there. Yes, I'm sure. I was just there. Like in real life.

And in case that doesn't work, I'm also posting it here on my Blogger blog, so the inconsistency in the matrix is picked up immediately by the mainframe, and the glitch is nullified in about .002 real time. CAN YOU HEAR ME, MAINFRAME????

So if I'm not around tomorrow, Google got me.



I'm sorry sir, but you have been deemed faulty. Google's server will now remove the glitch...

Dehydration is Delicious!

One of the many positive aspects of living in Portland (besides carting confectioneries to the coast) is being able to partake of the pan-Asian culture.

It's really hip (among the sort of folks among whom it would be hip) to say that Portland is really "white". Sure, Oregon was a white-only state before WWII, but I mean, come on: what about the mid-West? And anyway, that totally overlooks Asian, Greek, Russian, American Indian, and Latino culture, which itself is pretty much American now. Portland's no New York--but considering the things you can get here, it's pretty lush. You can get a "real" burrito almost anywhere now--but I like Portland for its instant noodle bowls.

Of course, you can get those in lots of places. I used to go to the Asian grocery in West Hartford, CT to stock up on noodles and Bee & Flower Brand soap. But the selection here is very good. Many high quality bowls and noodle packs, with the usual assortment of flavors, but in a variety of styles.

The thai noodle packs (like Ramen style) are very good--the seasonings are rich, and you can actually taste the different herbs rather than it having a static "broth" taste. The Vietnamese Pho bowls are also good, but not as good as the real thing, which I can get right down the street. The best selection, and also the best lunch, are the Japanese bowls.

I have never been to Japan. But in the Japan of my mind, there are an infinite selection of brands and flavors. Each person has their own particular favorite, and perhaps a couple of backups. These choices define the personality, somewhat like beer choice and cigarette brand. Udon? Heck no! I'm a ramen man!

So despite how cultural inaccurate this may be, I feel bound to test the waters, and decide my noodle brand.

This is tricky, because I'm sort of wishy-washy person. I like to think I am flexible; I always let others choose the restaurants, drink whatever everybody else is drinking, and am down to watch pretty much any movie. I drink the cheapest Union Made beer available unless I have a particular taste for something, I drive a hand-me-down car, and when I smoked cigarettes I preferred the first brand I ever bought. But with this noodle thing, I feel I've really gotta nail it down.

This is made increasingly difficult by not being able to read any of the labels of the products I'm buying. My eyes glaze over when viewing characters, and I only have the basest understanding of the different looks of Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Japanese. If the characters switch font, like between an exterior packing box and the actual label, I might as well have started over.

The only thing I really have to go by are the ingredient lists, which by law are slapped on with a blurry sticker the moment the products reach our shores. I'm vegetarian (or pescatarian, if you must) so this is a good first step. Anything with chicken flavor, pork dust, or residue from a beef vat is right out.

Next I go to the picture. This is often a good indication of noodle style, and sometimes flavor, if there are "serving suggestions" in the picture. However, if the picture is only a happy jumping man with a bullhorn, I'm lost again.

Price is another good indication. Top of the line Udon bowls are typically around 3.50 individually. The cheapest ramens are anywhere between .25 and .75. I normally take one from the upper third and the lower third. I like to buy the cases, because I do use these for my lunch at work. This is not only my own personal branding experiment. It's also delicious food!



This is my current specimen, which I have just slurped up while writing this post. I have no idea what the flavor is supposed to be, but label tells me that there are fish, shrimp, and milk ingredients. It includes some sort of dried potato cake on top of the noodles in the bowl, and three floating yellow balls that may be dehydrated egg. I think this one is a keeper. The potato cake is delicious; it gets full of the broth and is easily sliceable with the side of my fork (yes, no sticks at work. I should try and get a hold of some. I would be certain no one would steal them). I save the labels so I can get the same kind or brand when I return to the store.

I imagine in the future, these sorts of foods will become widespread. They already eat them in Asia, which says something. It's way tastier than Spaceman Icecream anyway. In Cowboy Bebop, they have instant noodle cups with pull-starts, automatically heating it when it is opened. I wonder how big of an exothermic reaction one needs to boil a cup and a half of water? How expensive and stable would that be? I suppose somebody has already tried to figure that out. Then again, someone can probably read the labels on these packages too.

2/02/2009

To Not Be Is The Answer

Here is an idea so brilliant it needs little more than to be quoted.

How do you save the failing businesses of our once bright newspapers?

Make them not businesses.

Why didn't I think of that? NPR isn't worried about going under because they run off of endowments and donations. We have educational institutions, why not news institutions? There is plenty of business opportunities for news commentary, collection, and whatever else online. But for the big, centralized newsrooms to hire talented workers, they need something more to keep up the bottom line.

So here is David Swensen and Michael Schmidt, from their Op-Ed piece in the NYT:

As educational and literary organizations devoted to the “promotion of social welfare,” endowed newspapers would benefit from Section 501(c)(3) of the I.R.S. code, which provides exemption from taxes on income and allows tax deductions for people who make contributions to eligible organizations.

One constraint on an endowed institution is the prohibition in the same law against trying to “influence legislation” or “participate in any campaign activity for or against political candidates.” While endowed newspapers would need to refrain from endorsing candidates for public office, they would still be free to participate forcefully in the debate over issues of public importance. The loss of endorsements seems minor in the context of the opinion-heavy Web.

Aside from providing stability, an endowment would promote journalistic independence. The best-run news organizations insulate reporters from pressures to produce profits or to placate advertisers. But endowed news organizations would be in an ideal situation — with no pressure from stockholders or advertisers at all.

How large an endowment would a newspaper need? The news-gathering operations at The New York Times cost a little more than $200 million a year. Assuming some additional outlay for overhead, it would require an endowment of approximately $5 billion (assuming a 5 percent annual payout rate). Newspapers with smaller newsrooms would require smaller endowments.

Steve Coll, formerly of the Washington Post, also thinks its a good idea.

Where privatization failed, let the public give a hand. Imagine every person who gave money to Obama giving $10 to the New York Times Non-Profit. I would give $15 and I didn't even give anything to Obama. That's not quite $5B, but through in a few institutional donors, and we're almost there. Imagine a newspaper with no ads.... I would subscribe to that.

Paranoid Pop Problems

I am now on my third listen of the Jaydiohead mix this morning. It's a mash-up of Jay-Z and Radiohead, though spanning various albums rather than the compartmentalized master project that was The Grey Album.

It's also less of a mash-up, and more simply (though this adjective is hardly appropriate) a remix of the very pure, "remix culture" archetype. "Two great tastes that taste good when they copyrights are shattered into a thousand pieces..." you know: Cory Doctorow and Lawrence Lessig shit.

The mix is good. That's really all there is to it. It's technically proficient, it snaps the head up and down, but it is laid back and chill enough for a hundred-thousand potential college smoke sessions. It's pure music design: sounds tailored to the exact culture-meme desires of the mp3 consuming audience. It is a full "album", giving it more of a concept than the simple remix track. This is not a song, its a commodity--something to own. Something to share. This is the audio iPhone for you to put on your iPhone. Did you know that "Paranoid Android" was the perfect back-beat for "Dirt off Your Shoulder"? No, but at the same time, yes, you did. You've been hearing this in your head before you even knew the component songs. It isn't so much DJ brilliancy as simply pop-music ascendancy--sounds destined to be heard, re-recorded, and played. It doesn't sound like innovation so much as fate. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when I listen to it--thank goodness! I thought maybe it wouldn't happen. The anxiety first began when I heard OK Computer in the late 90s, and it was some sort of supplement to the teenage angst finding its expression in robots and synth for the first time. Then when I heard The Black Album, Jay-Z's move from the Big Pimpin' Hova sound pouring from the cars in the parking lot of my high school to a bit more cerebral sort of pimping, the anxiety reached a fever pitch. These words, they're good--but they're over the wrong music. The beats are great, but they're not enough. It's too minimal! Where's the rest of the sound? Turn it up! All the music I know should be underneath these words!

Now I can sigh in relief, because it's so obvious now. The answer to the question of pop music is Jay-Z; his continuous ping-pong between crack-slinging and label-hyping now is in context. What is the question? Well, it could be as simple as the question that engenders the answer: "42". Because his answer is just as simple, nothing really to dig and uncover here, but it keeps coming up again and again: the pop-music red herring that you finally realize on the last page, "oh, but there wasn't anything else." So there it is. Listen to Jay-Z, and then go and have a snack.

Maybe greatest common denominator is a better metaphor: a massive number, when simplified, is just so many symmetrical sets of two's, or 4/4, or the dodging back and forth of the rap that makes such a minor sub-culture now so ubiquitous in pop music after, really, only about 20-25 years (make your own number line). But why Jay-Z? Why not KRS? Why not 2Pac? Why not Run DMC (already done)? Why not Biggie? Oh, the anxiety is coming up again...

He's not Shakespeare. Maybe Thoreau? Maybe Whitman--ubiquitously American, but really no different than the rest--a paradigm, but nothing material other than the overwrought adjective "paradigmatic"...

But I hope this hype isn't overwrought. What I'm getting at is that this sort of thing isn't so much genius as it is... necessary. Expected. Probable in its very possibility. You don't have to like hip-hop to realize rap is pop poetry. It's not even the words, its the sublimity with which it just enters things, showing up as if it was supposed to exist their the whole time. Like music in the mind of a high schooler. It didn't exist, until all of a sudden its there and everyone can breathe a sigh of relief because thank god, it showed up.

All of which is to say, Jay-Z is the most re-mixable music artist to ever exist in the history of the world. The history of the world is not so long in the consciousness of re-mixable music, but if some people are correct, it will be living a long life. And perhaps this is why it so telling that this one music artist, risen from Brooklyn to the high-rises of the burning music industry, who makes his money on selling precisely this story, is the placental exchange-commodity of the future of pop music as we know it. Featured on a track he can make it sell; but laid under the track, his voice makes it gel with our pop libido. Mashed with Radiohead, it's the teenager's pop fantasy. Mashed with the Beatles, and, well... it's bigger than the id right now. Who's next? Joy Division? U2? James Taylor? Next thing you know, your parents will be telling you about the sweet joint they just copped.

So it is genius, but peripheral genius. It's synchronistic genius; it's serendipitous genius--all of which is to say, it is genius that could only be controlled by something as historical and abstract as fate. It's all about as underwhelming as the times, and pop music itself, but I'm still nodding my head. But it's the new standard: Jay-Z is the Standards for remixing--you want to audition? Put something underneath 99 Problems--let's see how the kid plays it.

If you like pop music, put your damn hands up. Everybody already knows the anthem.

Ocean Confections

A couple of months ago I had a strange image of a cake surrounded by authentic Pacific Ocean foam.

So last week, when we went to the coast, we brought a pretty cake, an a cake stand.

Here are some of the results. I posted the good ones in a gallery here.


I didn't even know the couple was standing there when I took this one. I was trying to keep the gravel out of my lens.





Digital photography is amazing. As I described to Megan while having a Photoshop geek-out, "it's like creating a visible-spectrum light database! Photoshop is the Google of light!" Maybe, maybe not; but with standard film this picture would have been a blurry cake and face in a completely dark frame. Light is retouched, that's it.



This wasn't the best foam shot, but I think it's my favorite. You never know at the time. Isn't the cake stand awesome? It's warp-age is totally its antique charm.



It felt really nice to get a project all the way to completion. And it was a lot of fun, running around in the winter waves, taking pictures of a cake! So many weird looks from the dog-walkers and teenagers.

Accuracy at Pre-Deprivation Levels

From wikipedia:

In the United States military, Modafinil has been approved for use on certain Air Force missions, and it is being investigated for other uses. One study on helicopter pilots suggested that 600 mg of modafinil given in three doses can be used to keep pilots alert and maintain their accuracy at pre-deprivation levels for 40 hours without sleep. However, significant levels of nausea and vertigo were observed. Another study of fighter pilots showed that modafinil given in three divided 100 mg doses sustained the flight control accuracy of sleep-deprived F-117 pilots to within about 27 percent of baseline levels for 37 hours, without any considerable side effects. In an 88-hour sleep loss study of simulated military grounds operations, 400 mg/day doses were mildly helpful at maintaining alertness and performance of subjects compared to placebo, but the researchers concluded that this dose was not high enough to compensate for most of the effects of complete sleep loss.