Over the past quarter century, rapid technological advancements have helped shape the way artists and consumers view new media. The advent of digital formatting has challenged traditional distribution methods drastically. With almost any album, film or television show available for free at the click of a button, the power to judge the quality of a given work is stripped from the executive and the critic and given to the consumer. I submit that in the instances following, the aesthetics of art produced under such circumstances both counter and reflect the ever-shifting relationships between artists and consumers. This essay briefly examines three recent pieces, all released within the last six months, which exemplify the aesthetic influence of what I call “Liquid Media[1]” upon traditional modes of production, distribution and exhibition.
Because artists, especially those who take advantage of liquid media, tend to influence one another, I will organize my argument chronologically. First, I will look at an album released last June by digital mash-up artist, Girl Talk, entitled Feed the Animals (2008). I will illustrate how visual style and performance can turn post-modern art into a self-referential celebration while using only samples. Second, I will discuss how the innovative packaging Of Montreal’s Skeletal Lamping (2008) opens the discussion of alternative distribution methods which may provide artists with new opportunities for expression and subvert the increasing intangibility of new media. Finally, I will briefly analyze a short film released only a week ago, entitled Ponytale (2008) and the subtle function aesthetics play in expressing the shift in acceptable modes of distribution.
Former biomedical engineer, Greg Gillis, otherwise known as “Girl Talk,” isn’t the first person to make music based solely on samples. Why then has his work garnered so much attention? The New York Times called his album Feed the Animals a lawsuit waiting to happen. This is because it uses over 300 intentionally recognizable samples, none of which he has obtained permission to use. Gillis claims that his use of the samples fall under the “Fair Use” doctrine of US copyright law because of the brevity of each sample and it’s assumed financial inconsequentiality. However, the legal implications of Gillis’ work are not the only thing that makes it a perfect specimen of liquid media.
Following artists such as Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails, Gillis released Feed the Animals digitally as a “pay what you want” download. This new method of distribution raises some interesting questions. What makes art valuable? Is it originality? If so, what of all the borrowed notes, colors, brushstrokes, and melodies used even in classical art? Or is it the time or labor that goes into it? One can’t help wonder what Marx would have to say on the matter. How does value and use value translate when the value of the commodity under consideration is entirely subjective? Are there intrinsic qualities inherent in all art that endow it with “value?” It is not the design of this essay to answer these questions, rather open them for careful consideration and point out that it is not obvious what gives art monetary value. Therefore, liquid media forces artists, consumers and distributors to reevaluate what they produce, what they experience and what they invest in.
There is a connection between Feed the Animals’ alternative method of distribution and the aesthetic of Greg Gillis’ live performance and it has everything to do with what Marshall McLuhan would call “Cool Media.” That is, it engages the audience and relies, in this case almost exclusively, on participation and interaction. One need only see Girl Talk play live to understand why he has garnered so much attention. Gillis performs with as much flamboyance and bravado as any of the artists he samples. However, he can do something they cannot. Because he is not the original creator of the hooks, melodies and lyrics he uses; he also functions as a crowd member, celebrating the music on equal terms with those he performs for. He even invites as many audience members as will fit onto the stage with him to dance the night away. Unlike concerts where fans go to worship the artist, Gillis worships with the audience. It’s as if each participant gets to be part of his or her own private music video.
As we look at another artist who has recently challenged traditional methods of media distribution, consider again the question of what gives art value. Kevin Barnes, the creative force behind Athens, Georgia’s of Montreal, would argue that it is the ability of that art to do two things: first, facilitate self expression, and second, provide real world utility. Along with the unique packaging of his latest album, Barnes published an essay in blog form describing the ethos behind the band’s extra-musical creative endeavors. He writes:
…ideally, every object that you bring into your home, should feel exceptional to you. Otherwise, it just adds to the clutter and chaos of your life. We feel that there’s no reason to produce another object that just sits on a shelf. We only want to produce objects that have a function and that can be treasured for their singularness. Objects that can transform a room, bend the mind and inform your dreams. A CD has little value, as an object, and the conventional, right angle plagued CD packaging, we’ve been forced to endure forever, has nothing new to offer us either. (Barnes)
Barnes also happens to be the husband and brother of the visual artists who design all of the band’s album packaging. The newest of Montreal album, Skeletal Lamping, comes in several different forms: a compact disc with a package that folds out into a diorama, an LP that contains a giant horse-shaped poster, a collection of wall decals, a collection of buttons, a t-shirt, and a tote bag. Barnes explains further:
Now, we find ourselves in the middle of an exciting epoch: A time, when new technology has shattered the conventional business model and has set a paradigm shift in motion. For some people in the music biz, this is terrifying. For us, it is a fucking miracle! While the kings are in a stupor, we are going to take full advantage of the changing guard. (Barnes)
This approach to the liquidity of media differs from Gillis’ in that, rather than embracing and exploiting the intangibility of recorded music, Barnes attempts to give it form and substance by transforming it into a commodity with real use value. For fans of the band this is a blessing. Someone like Theodor Adorno, however, might argue that this abstract method of artifact association may well spark a trend that could, when applied on a global scale, function to perpetuate what he calls “the circle of manipulation and retroactive need.”
So far, two very different musical responses to liquid media have been examined. Yet, if there is one artistic form, which epitomizes the metamorphosis from solid to liquid media, it is music video. While, one might argue that inexpensive, lo-fi music videos, like many of the films posted by amateurs on Youtube, dilute the market for more expensive projects; I contend that, as has occurred with other art forms, technological advances will eventually catch up with the masses, projects lacking in substance and style will sift to the bottom, and some very interesting and creative films will shine through at an amateur level. This is already evident in one of the successful “siblings” of the music video genre: the action sports film. Half music videos, half documentaries, theses films do not exist to serve the music; rather, the music gives continuity and meaning to the physical expressions of the athletes, creating a sense of connectedness with the viewer. They contain all of the stylistic elements mentioned by Carol Vernallis in the opening of her article, “Music Video, Songs, Sound: Experience, Technique and Emotion in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”
Ponytale, produced by Actionhorse Films, and released only a week ago opens with this manifesto:
This movie has been in our minds for a very long time, and this year seemed like the perfect year to make it.
We made a movie the way we like it, politics free, with no one telling us what to ride, where to go, or who to film.
Pony Tale is a bunch of friends riding together, and that is how we see snowboarding.
In many respects, this film falls in line with others of its genre. It is essentially a series of montages displaying a variety of athletes, (in this case snowboarders) performing an assortment of stunts, set to music. There are also brief skits with very simple stories and little narration. However, the film sets itself apart from its counterparts in the way it challenges structural conventions and responds to its intangibility.
First, it organizes its scenes according to setting and chronology. This is rare in the action sports genre; rather, sequences are usually organized according to each individual athlete, giving each an opportunity to shine, one at a time, in a manner suited to his or her individual style. Ponytale’s structure removes the emphasis from the rider as an individual and places it in the moment. This functions, like Gillis’ live performance and Barnes’ commodities, to help the viewer create a sense of ownership with the materiel. This identification extends beyond the mere mirroring of the movements themselves, to that of the whole winter, spring and summer.
Second, the piece is released, like Gillis’ album, online, free to stream or download. Donations are available but not required. Of course, this project has sponsors, and there is a definite commercial quality to many of the visual aspects of the materiel, including the clothing and equipment shown. Nevertheless, the cinematography, editing, lighting and level of performance are all above par for the genre. The question of weather the high quality makes it a better gift to the consumer or only a better commercial is beside the point. A quality piece of art was produced and released digitally, to the public, free of charge.
In conclusion, major technological advances constantly challenge individuals and societies to reevaluate traditional modes of operation. Obviously, the effects of these changes will not affect all people and groups equally. Weather or not artists and citizens ever successfully create a harmonious, mutually beneficial relationship, and weather digital media can facilitate that balance remains to be seen.
[1] The term “Liquid Media” refers to the ambiguous shape and lack of physicality inherent in any form of art, which can be rendered, expressed, stored, or transported digitally. Like liquid, this new media has definite “volume” (the look, sound, etc) but no definite “shape” (CD, Tape, MP3, etc).
