Liquid Media: Recent Upheavals of Tradition

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.

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[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).

Believe in Ghosts: A Close Analysis of Snow White (1933)

In the last century animation, like other media, has undergone a series of significant technological advancements, each causing artists to redefine the way they interpret the world.  Of these, Max and Dave Fleischer’s rotoscope stands out as a benchmark in the effort to successfully capture the essence of human form, including gesture and movement. Patented in 1917, the tool projects live action footage frame by frame through a piece of glass over which animators trace. (Furniss, 76) By solving the problem of how to accurately represent the complexities of human movement, new choices for animators opened up. One of these was how to garnish this new body, or rather, since the body obviously does not need to be traced exactly as it appears through the rotoscope, what is it going to be?  The Fleischers turned to the unique dance styling of Cab Calloway, using his rotoscoped body as the model for their character, Koko the Clown, in a series of films called Out of the Inkwell.  One of these films is Snow White (1933).  This essay explores Fleischer’s Snow White, and examines how abstraction can help define the relationship between the ‘physical’ and the ‘uncanny’ through imagery, narrative, and the rotoscope itself with particular reference to Calloway’s performance as Koko the Clown.

            In her article, “Cadaver of the Real: Animation, Rotoscoping, and the Politics of the Body”, Joanna Bouldin theorizes the nature of animated being-ness, “comparing the ontological status of the photographically recorded image with its powerful ability to conjure the physical presence and materiality of the original object…” (Bouldin, 7)  Note that the very act of conjuring a physical presence acknowledges the absence of such.   In terms of iconographic portrayal of such an absence, few images are as effective and universally acceptable as the ghost. [1] “Saint James Infirmary Blues” portion, which makes up roughly a third of the film, is rich with such imagery.

            For example, shortly after Koko begins his serenade, the Queen uses her Magic Mirror to transform him into another creature. His new body is composed thus: a small, white sheet, split down the middle with ragged ends; a head and two arms, which appear to be covered by the sheet; two long, white, rubbery legs; and a pair of white slippers.  This relatively abstract form, though obviously no longer Koko the Clown, bears strong resemblance to the “white sheet ghost” image popular in western tradition, and for that reason I will refer to it as ‘Koko the Ghost.’

There are two main indicators that this is indeed Koko’s Ghost.  First, the Queen’s role in the transformation creates a narrative link between the two bodies. Second, while the bodily form changes, its overall size, gestures and movements continue seamlessly. The invisible, rotoscoped image of Cab Calloway manifests itself, clearly indicating that this more abstract figure is, in fact, the ‘ghost’ of Koko the Clown.

            Interestingly, though not rotoscoped, the background and other animated elements in the sequence reflect a similar ‘ghostly’ motif.  Ghastly faces in the form of gaping caves, along with caricatured skeletons make up most of the background. A specter flies from one end of the frame to the other as it changes forms inclucing a snake, a skeleton, and an owl.  The reference of each of these images to popular traditions regarding the supernatural helps to further indicate Koko’s transformation as a ‘spiritual’ one. Though not actually rotoscoped, these direct allusions the supernatural help assert the relationship of animation to the perception of the uncanny. The effect of this imagery is heightened as it operates according to a framework, provided by the narrative.

            The supposed dichotomy of body and spirit permeates much of Western folklore.  Often such tales, or ‘ghost stories’ indicate a reaching out for, yet uneasiness about something familiar, though absent. The exact reason why the Fleischers combined the Snow White folktale with the song, “Saint James Infirmary Blues” is unclear, however; it may have something to do with similar thematic references to the uncanny.

            N.J. Giradot, in an essay about Snow White, asserts that fairy tales contain a dimension concerned with “the mythic, sacred, religious or sublime- what Freud called the ‘uncanny’…” (Giradot, 278)  The Queen’s magic mirror provides a good example. An object used for the objective interpretation of one’s physical self, when given magical properties and a personality, becomes a subjective instrument of character discovery, and in this instance, produces self-loathing.  Incidentally it is the Queen’s self-loathing that creates the primary conflict of the story.  Furthermore, the mirror functions in a way similar to the rotoscope itself, a subjective filter of the ‘real.’ It is no wonder then, that it is the very instrument with which the Queen transforms Koko the Clown into Koko the Ghost.

            Now, as we look at the story contained within Koko’s musical number, “Saint James Infirmary Blues,” possible reasons for combining the pieces begin to emerge. Like much the folklore with which Snow White is associated, this musical piece has somewhat ambiguous origins, derives from a European folk tune, and exists in many different versions.  The version contained within the film follows:

Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary,

See my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table,

She's so sweet, so cold, so fair.

 

Let her go, let her go, God bless her,

Wherever she may be,

She will search this wide world over,

But she'll never find another sweet man like me.

 

Now, when I die, bury me in my straight-leg britches,

Put on a box-back coat and a stetson hat,

Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain,

So you can let all the boys know I died standing pat.

 

An' give me six crap shooting pall bearers,

Let a chorus girl sing me a song.

Put a red hot jazz band at the top of my head

So we can raise Hallelujah as we go along.

 

Folks, now that you have heard my story,

Say, boy, hand me another shot of that booze;

If anyone should ask you,

Tell 'em I've got those St. James Infirmary blues.

 

            The lyrics, when divided into two sections, point to the physical world and its relationship with and distance between that of the imagined, or spiritual world.  First, Koko tells of a visit to pay last respects to a deceased lover.  Although he describes her as beautiful, for better or worse he believes she will not be able to do better than him, presumably in the afterlife. Next, he details the manner in which he would like to be buried.  His fantasized self-image is as that of a stylish, carefree, jazz enthusiast; yet that abstraction seems only obtainable in death. Just as the images of rotoscoped bodies are under the control of the animator, the animated Ghost of Koko, had he freedom from the animator, would have painted a much different picture.  In fact, that picture looks a great deal like Cab Calloway.  

            It should be noted that this analysis covers only one example of rotoscopy, and many variations on the technique have emerged over the years. It is likely that what is said about one piece of work may not apply across the board, especially across various authors, nations and variations of the technology. As Bouldin puts it:

…although the rotoscope offers potentially liberatory possibilities in terms of deconstructing problematic corporeal and media boundaries, such subversive potential is not a necessary or inherent product of rotoscoping. Indeed, as Langer astutely points out, films can either foreground the co-presence of the rotoscoped body (thereby enhancing the resulting spectatorial unease) or they can obscure the use of the rotoscope and repress its unsettling double… In keeping with their long tradition of self-reflexive animation, (Snow White was) designed to accentuate the viewer’s awareness of the rotoscoped body and its corporeal co-presence by openly referring to the human body upon which it was mapped.” (Bouldin, 16)

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[1] I will use the term ‘ghost’ alongside terms such as ‘specter’, ‘spirit’, and ‘uncanny’ in two ways. First, to draw upon iconographic ‘ghostly’ images in order to create a distinction between the ‘real’ and the ‘abstract.’ Second, I will use these terms in the more traditional or ‘literal’ sense, (stemming from the Christian concept of the “soul of a deceased person”) but only as it applies to fictional characters within the story. .

war certain if no peace

Its been too long since I've posted so, generic update time.

Classes are crazy but awesome. My two generals: Hebrew and Human Evolution are the easiest. The three others all involve quite a bit of reading and writing, which I am fine with. I am really learning how to push myself but I am also still pretty lazy. It's a weird mix, though I try to lean towards the former.

Noteworthy media-related goings on in my life:

1. The new Of Montreal album, Skeletal Lamping keeps getting better and better. 
   
2. Spike Lee's new film, Miracle at St. Anna, though thought provoking, had a few fatal flaws including bad acting, too many unnecessary scenes, and poor time structure. See it though.
3. I am reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest for school and love it. Recommended for anyone who hasn't read it yet.
4. Experimental animation: one of my new fascinations. My favorite artist at this point is Norman McLaren.
5. Microsoft Word's "notebook" function has proven addictive. I hold it partially responsible for my recent surge in academic enthusiasm.

Two posts ago I put up part of a document I found explaining a little about the "fair use doctrine" in our copyright laws. I have been interested lately in understanding what about art and other forms of intellectual property is intrinsically ownable. Is my confusion over the principle is similar to the confusion many Native Americans experienced at the concept of "owning the earth" when white settlers first showed up. This is one of the questions I want to develop more fully and eventually produce a polished written piece on. For now I am just using this blog as a sounding board for these ideas and if anyone ever reads it maybe I'll get some feedback.

Finally, here is a short by McLaren that I love. It won him an Oscar in 1952 for Best Documentary because there was no animation category. 

Enjoy:

media is liquid

One of the rights accorded to the owner of copyright is the right to reproduce or to authorize others to reproduce the work in copies or phonorecords. This right is subject to certain limitations found in sections 107 through 118 of the Copyright Act (title 17, U. S. Code). One of the more important limitations is the doctrine of “fair use.” Although fair use was not mentioned in the previous copyright law, the doctrine has developed through a substantial number of court decisions over the years. This doctrine has been codified in section 107 of the copyright law.

Section 107 contains a list of the various purposes for which the reproduction of a particular work may be considered “fair,” such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Section 107 also sets out four factors to be considered in determining whether or not a particular use is fair:

1. the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes;

2. the nature of the copyrighted work;

3. amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and

4. the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.

The distinction between “fair use” and infringement may be unclear and not easily defined. There is no specific number of words, lines, or notes that may safely be taken without permission. Acknowledging the source of the copyrighted material does not substitute for obtaining permission.

The 1961 Report of the Register of Copyrights on the General Revision of the U.S. Copyright Law cites examples of activities that courts have regarded as fair use: “quotation of excerpts in a review or criticism for purposes of illustration or comment; quotation of short passages in a scholarly or technical work, for illustration or clarification of the author's observations; use in a parody of some of the content of the work parodied; summary of an address or article, with brief quotations, in a news report; reproduction by a library of a portion of a work to replace part of a damaged copy; reproduction by a teacher or student of a small part of a work to illustrate a lesson; reproduction of a work in legislative or judicial proceedings or reports; incidental and fortuitous reproduction, in a newsreel or broadcast, of a work located in the scene of an event being reported.”

Copyright protects the particular way an author has expressed himself; it does not extend to any ideas, systems, or factual information conveyed in the work.

The safest course is always to get permission from the copyright owner before using copyrighted material. The Copyright Office cannot give this permission.

When it is impracticable to obtain permission, use of copyrighted material should be avoided unless the doctrine of “fair use” would clearly apply to the situation. The Copyright Office can neither determine if a certain use may be considered “fair” nor advise on possible copyright violations. If there is any doubt, it is advisable to consult an attorney.

FL-102, Revised July 2006

are you crazy? the fall will probably kill you.

Dragline: Where'd the road go?
Luke: That's it. That's the end of it.
Convict: Man, there's still daylight.
Dragline: About two hours left.
Convict: What do we do now?
Luke: Nothin'.
Dragline: Oh Luke, you wild, beautiful thing. You crazy handful of nothin'.

Rest in peace Paul Newman.

what i wouldn't give for a large sock with horse manure in it

somebody lives in shadows

Pitchfork had some cool stuff on it today. One of those things is right below.

The other one of those things begins not so awesomely. The release date for Of Montreal's forthcoming Skeletal Lamping has been pushed back to Oct. 21. That's my brother's birthday. In the meantime, a new remix for Id Engager is out. Download it here.

Call them you will. The hipster snobs over at P4k aren't half bad at keeping me informed about my favorite musicians.