Strange Wilderness

Okay, I've got to see Strange Wilderness.

Is the Tipping Point Toast?

Thanks to Google Reader, I came across an article on Duncan Watts Fast Company. Watts, a professor of Sociology who studies networks and is currently working for Yahoo, argues that the influencers, those cool folks on the cutting edge of fashion, art, etc, are not as crucial to the success of a trends as critics such as Malcolm Gladwell claim. Society needs to be open and ready to a concept before it can take root and flourish. In his opinion, "success in a networked society is random" and the best approach from a marketing standpoint is saturating the masses.

I think that Gladwell's argument in The Tipping Point was persuasive, but I like Watts' acknowledgement of just how unpredictable the business of marketing is. I think people would prefer believing that if you are influential, persuasive and just plain cool enough, you can drive success of something. It allows people to feel more in control and helps give meaning to trends people may just not understand. Placing greater importance on the role of influencers also helps experts find and retain jobs, I think. For Watts, it's true that you need to push ideas through social networks but it's never clear who plays the crucial role for making something huge.

It's interesting to me that Watts has gone to work at Yahoo with Jonah Peretti on a form of advertising called Big Seed marketing which targets as broad an audience as possible because of the uncertainty. As interesting as I find his ideas, I'm wary of seeing theory made into practice. It seems to me as if he's aiming for a kind of media carpet bombing--you don't know who needs to get pulverized by information so you'll make sure we're all victims.

The Museum, Fight Quest or the Concert?

It probably comes as no surprise that Luc enjoyed watching Fight Quest on the Discovery Channel with us more than listening to classical music or visiting a very, very cool exhibition ("Brave New Worlds") at the Walker this weekend.   Even though he thought the artist's grafitti and a dancer's contortions at the museum were strange and kind of funny, he much preferred building his Leggo Star Wars creations while watching people get their butts kicked in new and exciting ways in exotic countries.

I have to confess that Luc is not the only one who likes the subgenre of reality shows to which shows like Last One Standing and Fight Quest belong.   The Discovery Channel has become quite adept at edutainment (Have you seen Dirty Jobs, Surviorvman, or the Everest shows?)and they've done a great job at combining elements of National Geographic specials, Survivor and a Martial Arts Competition with these shows.   

We got hooked as a family on Last One Standing  last fall for the same reasons that we get a kick out of Fight Quest.  It's a show that we can get engaged with as a family.  There's enough strangeness (like an Indonesian mystic slashing his tongue with a knife) to keep Luc interested and us talking with him while he's watching.  Given that Luc totally digs Spongebob and Jimmy Neutron while Chris and I have been watching The Tudors, Californication and The Wire, it's not easy to find common ground in the front of the TV.   But finding a show that allows us to explore martial arts and inspires Luc and Chris to practice their battle moves is a very good thing.   As much as we like to adventures outside of the house, we also love to sit back and shake our heads while the shows' participants go through hell for the sake of their art.  (Come to think of it, I guess our experience with Fight Quest shares a lot with American Idol.)

 

Mozart, Bartok and Luc

Every once in a while I get it into my head that Luc needs some spiritual enlightenment.   (Generally, I feel the need after he spends twenty minutes or so explaining the right strategy for capturing a Pokemon.)  A while back, we took him to a church service on Easter Sunday thinking that he should understand it was more than a day for gorging on chocolate bunnies.  Among the ordeals he's undergone are museum excursions, yoga classes, meditation sessions and countless art, science, martial art and music classes. 

Last night, Chris and I took him to hear the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra who were performing at the Shepherd of the Hills church in Apple Valley. The piece by Mozart was beautiful and the Bartok was witty and dramatic. I was hopeful that Luc might be moved and might even experience some kind of epiphany. Maybe he would find his calling as a musician and be inspired to practice more than a reluctant four minutes a day on the piano.

As was the case  with his other adventures,  Luc did not appreciate my attempts to awaken his higher passions. When I asked him what he thought of the concert, he groaned and said, "I feel like I'm going to puke.  There are too many notes."  If you recall, his reaction to the passion play enacted during the church service a few years back were sobs of despair.  I would like to think that feeling nauseated rather than sorrowful at church is somehow better, but I'd be deluding myself.   

In spite of my realization that Luc will only achieve enlightenment on his own terms,  being unrepentingly middle class,  I will spend continue to thrust him into situations aimed at educating and uplifting him.  Sunday, we're taking him to meet Al Franken with the hope that he sees the power of progressive politics.   Lord knows what kind of response he'll have to that.

The Power of Silence

When used thoughtfully, silence has always been a very powerful way to say a lot. The amount of information that we're asked to filter in this day and age can be pretty overwhelming. Though I'm not sure how effective the ad would be in promoting Pepsis' brand, I thought it was clever and enjoyed it. Getting a chance to see in in the proper context, as an oasis of silence in the Super Bowl noise, might even make sitting through the especially noisy Super Bowl worth it.

The Moment of Truth

Deadly TV game shows have always fascinated me because the accounts of games shows in movies, Rollerball, and Stephen King's The Running Man have always struck me as completely plausible. As good as we try to be (and I do think that many people try very hard), part of us wants to be seated in the front row of the arena while the lion devours the luckless gladiator.

When Survivor and Fear Factor hit the air, I thought we had come closer to realizing murderous games in modern times. And last night, I think television came even closer with Fox's "The Moment of Truth." After watching a kinder and gentler version of American Idol, I kept Fox on because I wanted to see what more people could do for the chance at fortune and fame. And I wasn't disappointed. I watched as a man revealed his vanity and dishonesty and probably hammered a nail in the coffin of a marriage for the chance to win $100,000. Another confessed his addiction to gambling and the fact that had just rifled through his colleagues things. And the host hadn't even gotten to the truly tough questions.

Why I think this show stands apart is that it's found a way to rip off the masks people wear on reality show/competitions. Rather than offer people the chance to win $1 million if they can fool their competitors, The Moment of Truth, rewards them for revealing their private selves. I guess in the age of the blogging, Twitter and YouTube, people have found that they don't need a priest or a psychoanalyst to pry their souls open. The promise of fame and/or fortune is enough.

dogs and history

I spent the past month or so listening to a lecture on European history while walking my dogs. Coincidentally, the professor was very interested in the function of dogs within history. Many of his powerpoints included representations of dogs in paintings of the particular era being discussed. In his final lecture, he talked a bit about why dogs had caught his fancy: They function as screens onto which people can project their desires. He sees them positioned at the border between nature and culture.

As much as I love dogs, I had never considered them from an academic perspective. But if I were a grad student, I'd be interested in thinking about how dogs have been woven into our culture. What do our representations and treatments of dogs say about people from a historical and cultural perspective? If we compare Rin Tin Tin to Lassie to Air Bud to Underdog, what can we find? What can be understood from the 10 most popular dogs of 2007? Does the fact that the boxer has muscled his way into list again say anything about our attitudes?

the cruel stars of the night

I just finished Kjell Eriksson's latest novel to be translated from Swedish into English and absolutely loved it for a number of reasons. There's a sense of realism to the books which appeals to me. First, as is the case with the series by John Sandford and Ian Rankin, the books is firmly rooted in a place that the author takes pains to make you experience. Though I've never visited Sweden, I can feel the October frost and see the beech trees along with the protagonist, Ann Lindell. Just as care is taken to connect her to the land so is she shown to be part of a very real, changing, social network.

Another reason why I can't stop thinking about the novel is the way in which geography and psychology come together. I feel as if I'm caught in the subtle current of a quiet, dark sea when reading. I don't necessarily know where the narrative will take me, but I want to continue to go with the flow. There's a rhythm to the novel which is different from that of other crime thrillers.

Finally, I enjoy reading a book with middle aged women at its center that cannot be classified as "chick lit." The narrative alternates between the perspectives of two smart, vulnerable and lonely women. The outcomes of their emotional struggles are very different but they are equally compelling.

The Princess of Burundi was Eriksson's last Lindell work translated in English. It's also excellent. The next one, The Demon of Dakar, will be released in April of 2008.

Very cool video from The Kills

Moral Sense

Today I was listening to my favorite history professor, Thomas Laqueur compare the holocaust to other "cleansing" events such as genocide and massacres.  He briefly discussed the atrocities committed by people in the name of country, race and religion.    Typically, I'll shake my head and wonder how people could commit such heinous acts.  But, today, I began reading an article in the NYT magazine by Steven Pinker on "The Moral Instinct" and I was reminded what I think is truly astonishing:  The vast majority of people behave decently and often admirably.  Truly morally repugnant behavior is the exception and not the rule.

In the article, Pinker discusses the science of morality.   Studies have lent credence to the existence of a universal moral grammar.  One argument goes that our principles center on certain moral spheres: harm, fairness, community, authority and purity.    Differences in behavior among cultures can be explained by differences in the way that the spheres are privileged.  Some cultures, for example, privilege fairness over community.  

I find the idea of a moral "sense" very appealing, that being moral is being reasonable.  Pinker points to Peter Singer's theory of the Expanding Circle--"the optimistic proposal that our moral sense , though shaped by evolution to overvalue itself, kin and clan, can propel us on a path of moral progress, as our reasoning forces us to generalize it to larger and larger circles of sentient beings."

It's important to reason that our moral sense can easily become muddled.   Genocide, the holocaust and massacres have been committed by people who consider their actions moral. As Pinker points out, we tend to moralize issues and then shut down discussion based on our feelings of moral repugnance.   But I remain hopeful that science will continue to shed light on the complex mechanisms that run humans and we will actually achieve some kind of moral progress.

 

Anxiety of Influence on the Web

Time and time again,  I've felt inadequate in the face of those who've had more experience or seem to have more talent.   And it's made me question my purpose to such an extent that I've abandoned my goals.    With so much information available now through the Web,  that anxiety has intensified.   All you need to do is google your speciality to find thousands of others who've been practicing that speciality longer and, seemingly, better than you.  

I guess it's the ease by which the internet allows us to connect with others that awakens one set of anxieties at the same time as it alleviates others.    Thanks to search engines, social networking, and other tools, people can find others who share their passions, background and skill.  The internet can ease feelings of isolation.  At the same, it's much harder to feel unique. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why people seem so desperate to become celebrities.  They don't feel that they can achieve any goals which would set them apart because it's all already been done.

history wth iTunes

Listening to Professor Thomas Laqueur's survey of Modern Europe through iTunes University has reminded me of how important it is to remember the past.    Time and time again, rulers have acted without regard for the past with dire results. (Just think of how partitioning northern Africa has led to political strife. ) At the same time, clinging to the past fuels the fire of endless wars.  So how can people remember without resentment?  How do people respect the past and learn from it rather than stew over it.

reelgeezers and andrew olmsted

Check out Reelgeezers on YouTube.   They are 80-something industry insiders who offer reviews of current movies.  What a pleasure it is to enjoy the chemistry between the two of them while they offer their insights.  

On another note, I teared up when I read the final entry on Andrew Olmsted's blog.  His story hit all the major news forums todays.  He's the military blogger whose friend posted his final words after his death.   

I know that much has been written downplaying the web's ability to bring people together, but it never ceases to amaze me how many lives unfold on my computer screen.  No wonder people feel they have to blog.  It's a way of weaving a story using all the narrative threads available now.