Friday, October 05, 2007
Stephen Fry on Fame
Actor Stephen Fry has started a blog. Neil Gaiman pointed out Stephen's post on fame, which is long, but quite marvelous. It makes our reactions to famous people seem quite ridiculous, albeit I'm not quite sure how we shut off our feelings for those we admire.
Labels: blog, fame, neil gaiman, stephen fry
Monday, September 17, 2007
Behold! A Coffee Cup!
Okay, this is my last story from Atlanta - at least for now, unless something reminds me of the trip again.
On Thursday, September 6, on the first day of the museum conference, there was a special treat planned. Cokie Roberts was due to speak right before lunch. My hubby and I were keen to hear her. I had a couple of morning sessions to attend. Hubby wasn't interested in the museum sessions, so he found a spot to sit and read in one of the hotel's public areas.
After my second morning session, my husband came into the conference room and handed me a paper coffee cup. From Starbucks, no less. I looked at it and said, "So?" And he grinned and told me the story of The Cup. He had been sitting in an area with several clusters of chairs and tables. Minding his own business. Reading. There were three people in the next cluster over, two men and a woman. He didn't pay much attention to the group, until they got up. He noticed that they had left their garbage all over the table. Upon their leaving, he recognized the woman. She was Cokie Roberts. And she'd left her coffee cup on the table. My husband, cheeky guy that he is, picked up Cokie Roberts' coffee cup. As a souvenir. To keep forever. In a shrine. With an up-light. And a picture of Cokie. The thing you have to know about my husband is that he is not impressed by fame for fame's sake. For him, this is all a laugh-riot, poking a little fun at those who take fame too seriously. So, now we have Cokie Roberts' paper coffee cup sitting on top of our kitchen cupboards. Awaiting the enshrining.
By the way, if you ever have a chance to hear Cokie speak, jump. She's witty and intelligent and fun to listen to. Gracious, too.
Labels: atlanta, coffee cup, cokie roberts, fame, husband, starbucks
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Reestablishing Boundaries
Kathy Sierra of Creating Passionate Users is down, but not out after receiving death threats on her blog. Now, she's soliciting advice about how to handle the situation. The matter seems to be one of reestablishing boundaries. Those on the path to fame have to take stock and figure this out at some point. It's the price that has to be paid for renown because the famous lose the boundary of anonymity. Think about the barriers celebrities place around themselves. Unlisted phone numbers; unlisted addresses; a big house, preferrably in a secluded location (space makes a good barrier); agents & managers; fan clubs; moving out of the country of fame. If they have websites, they either don't have email enabled (U2 and Moby are examples), or they don't answer it (DMB). If they have blogs, they do not enable comments (Seth Godin, Neil Gaiman). See? There are ways to draw lines in the sand and say, "You've got part of me, but you can't have all of me." And that's eggzactly as it should be.
Labels: advice, anonymity, blog, boundaries, death threats, dmb, fame, kathy sierra, moby, neil gaiman, seth godin, u2
Friday, March 30, 2007
Fame Junkies
I finished reading a book by Jake Halpern called Fame Junkies. The book discusses the psychological underpinnings of why we are so attracted to celebrities. Jake researched ideas about para-social relationships (relationships held from afar) as well as looking at how primates behave in hierarchies. Turns out that male monkeys (rhesus macaques) are more interested in watching dominant males and the back sides of female monkeys than in looking at non-dominant males and the front sides of females. What does THAT say about the men in our species and their tendency to focus on the physical attributes of women? Should we bother worrying about what our butts look like? As for watching the dominant male monkeys, those who could keep track of the Big Cahuna could get in his good graces, thus ensuring survival - or they could avoid his bad moods, thus ensuring survival. Here we are, all a bunch of monkeys, acting out some biological imperative with celebrity worship. Only Jake indicates that our fascination with celebrities has gotten much worse, more out of hand. I was especially saddened by the chapter devoted to young people who attend talent schools in hopes of becoming famous. What a treadmill.
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
I'm interested in fame, as is evidenced by my Manifesto of Fame and my Squidoo lens on the topic, yet it feels like more of an academic interest. (I think that there will be more people taking an academic interest in fame as celebrity worship is on the rise.) Jake is quite forthcoming about the fact that when one studies fame, one is in danger of succumbing to the attention and glory of it all. What I'm wondering, that the book didn't discuss, is how does one get enough renown (fame is too strong here) to be able to survive on one's creative work? We don't all want to be Vincent VanGogh and die penniless and mad. How does one get a solid respect for her work, yet still maintain a sense of privacy and a solid personal life? How does one remain connected to those who support the work, are fans of the work, but avoid the overboard fan behavior?
Labels: books, creative, fame, fame junkies, jake halpern, manifesto, monkeys, reading, squidoo
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Lovely Sentiments
I'm still making my way through Julia Cameron's "Letters to a Young Artist." I ran across a couple of lovely sentiments while reading last night.
From page 107: "It's a gread deal like the question of love. Either we can worry about being loved "enough" or we can focus on being more loving. Only one of those choices will make us happy."
From page 113: "I do believe that we encounter the consciousness of an artist through his or her work. Sometimes some of my liveliest relationships are with people whom I may never meet at all except on the page."
The first is self-explanatory. The second makes me wonder if this is why we become so enamored with famous people. Their work precedes them and we get this lovely snippet of the best of them - the nugget of gold inside upon which we build our ideas of them. If / when we meet these famous people or continue to watch their antics through the media, our ideas of them evaporate because we eventually discover their human qualities. The gold is still there, but it's been sullied. Meeting them on the page, or through a song, or in a movie and building our ideas of them through the prism of our hearts and minds creates the ideal relationship, one that cannot be fulfilled in real life, unless our imaginations are willing to accept their humanity.
From page 107: "It's a gread deal like the question of love. Either we can worry about being loved "enough" or we can focus on being more loving. Only one of those choices will make us happy."
From page 113: "I do believe that we encounter the consciousness of an artist through his or her work. Sometimes some of my liveliest relationships are with people whom I may never meet at all except on the page."
The first is self-explanatory. The second makes me wonder if this is why we become so enamored with famous people. Their work precedes them and we get this lovely snippet of the best of them - the nugget of gold inside upon which we build our ideas of them. If / when we meet these famous people or continue to watch their antics through the media, our ideas of them evaporate because we eventually discover their human qualities. The gold is still there, but it's been sullied. Meeting them on the page, or through a song, or in a movie and building our ideas of them through the prism of our hearts and minds creates the ideal relationship, one that cannot be fulfilled in real life, unless our imaginations are willing to accept their humanity.
Labels: artist, books, fame, humanity, idea, julia cameron, love, reading
Friday, December 15, 2006
Manifesto of Fame - Part II
I was checking out my blog feeds on Bloglines and found a nice little post about celebrity narcissism on the blog "It is a numeric life." Quoting the site:
" . . . . on average, celebrities are about 17% higher [in narcissism] than the general public — with females ranking significantly higher than males. Interestingly, celebrities with the most skill (musicians) were the least narcissistic; those with no skill (reality-show stars) were off the narcissism charts. "
A few items from my Manifesto of Fame come to mind about now.
" . . . . on average, celebrities are about 17% higher [in narcissism] than the general public — with females ranking significantly higher than males. Interestingly, celebrities with the most skill (musicians) were the least narcissistic; those with no skill (reality-show stars) were off the narcissism charts. "
A few items from my Manifesto of Fame come to mind about now.
Labels: blog, bloglines, fame, manifesto, narcissism
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Relevance Over Time
I'm very much enjoying The Killers' CD Hot Fuss that I mentioned a couple of days ago. Listening to it obsessively, I am. I've mentioned that I'm usually late to finding music that gains popularity among the masses. I'm not one of the early hordes that makes something popular in the first place. But, so what? Isn't it in the best interests of creative artists to have audiences that discover them over time? Sure, it's got to be lovely to have the big horde find you and love you into financial security and fame, but I wouldn't want to lose relevance over time. Whether in music, or art, or literature, or whatever creative endeavor, the way to immortality is to have your stuff speak to people long after you've made it.
Labels: art, creativity, fame, immortality, killers, money, music, security, writing
Monday, November 27, 2006
Manifesto of Fame
As promised, my Manifesto of Fame:
(Because fame is overrated)
(Because fame is overrated)
- Humans love a pecking order. Someone’s got to be at the top. Why not you?
- Some people don’t want to be famous. They’re perfectly happy to run the puppet show from behind the scenes.
- There are many levels of fame. Your level of fame is directly proportional to the number of people who talk about you behind your back.
- There’s fame and there’s infamy. Would you rather be beloved or reviled? Your choice.
- Fame is nothing. Anyone can become famous. Becoming a legend or a myth, now that’s where it’s at. If you’re striving for legend status, or the even more lofty mythdom, be prepared to do something spectacular, like walking on water, but not the frozen kind. That’s not spectacular. That’s just ice fishing.
- Famous people are not exempt from their humanity. They still shit behind their shoes, unless their feet have been amputated.
- The famous can (and do) go from being beloved to being reviled as a result of their humanity.
- If you achieve fame, you will be scrutinized, so don’t whine when people use you as a lightning rod.
- Fame is a social phenomenon gained when others grant it to you. Don’t disrespect those who gave you your fame.
- Being famous doesn’t mean abdicating your soul to your fans. Set boundaries.
- If you allow your fame to increase your hat size, you’ll never find a hat that fits.
- Don’t come to expect the perks of fame. Too much ass kissing will only lead to a chapped backside.
- It’s not all about you, no matter how famous you get.
- Use your fame to do some good in the world, but remain humble while on the bully pulpit.
- Enjoy it while you’ve got it. Humans love a pecking order, with the operative word being “pecking.”
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Gwen-y Again-y
So, a couple days ago, I blogged about clothing and the famous and how some famous people never wear the same outfit twice. Gwen Stefani is one such person. I caught her new video for the song "Wind It Up" yesterday morning. I love watching her videos precisely because she wears some unusual outfits, many of which she designs herself. One problem though. Practically every video I've seen her in flicks through scenes like a strobe light. Everything moves so fast that I can't get a good look at the clothes. I mean, really, what's the point of having stunning outfits if no one can see them?
Labels: clothing, fame, gwen stefani, outfits, video
Monday, November 13, 2006
Clothing & Famous People
When it comes to clothing, have you ever noticed that famous people fall into two camps? There's the camp of famous people who wear a uniform - the same sort of thing every day so much so that they get known for a particular look. Neil Gaiman with his all-black is in this camp, as was Steve Irwin, the Croc Hunter. The other camp is composed of famous people who NEVER wear the same thing twice. Oprah, Gwen Stefani, Madonna wouldn't be caught dead in the same outfit two days in a row or in the same week. They have closets so big they could clothe every person in Rhode Island for a month.
I'm not famous which is probably why I fall into neither camp. I have only so many clothes, none of which classifies as a uniform, and, by God, they're getting worn again and again, week to week, until they're so threadbare that I have to use them as rags or throw them away. Some (most!) of my dresses have been hanging in my closet for over a decade. Fashionista, I'm not. Clint & Stacy (Staci?) of What Not to Wear would have a field day with me. Tough cookies.
I'm not famous which is probably why I fall into neither camp. I have only so many clothes, none of which classifies as a uniform, and, by God, they're getting worn again and again, week to week, until they're so threadbare that I have to use them as rags or throw them away. Some (most!) of my dresses have been hanging in my closet for over a decade. Fashionista, I'm not. Clint & Stacy (Staci?) of What Not to Wear would have a field day with me. Tough cookies.
Labels: clothing, fame, gwen stefani, madonna, neil gaiman, oprah, steve irwin, uniform
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Personal
Have you ever noticed how famous people get better looking the more famous they become? When they're just starting out, their talent shines through, but they tend to look like average Janes and Joes. Once they've reached a certain level of popularity, they look spit-polished and haute. Amy Lee, from the band Evanescence, is a case in point. I just caught the band's new video on VH1 this morning and noticed that Amy has undergone THE SHIFT. Her makeup is perfect, her hair is perfect, her threads are perfect, and the special effects in the video are top-of-the-line, people-flying-around, Matrix effects. She's come a long way, baby.
According to the book "Get What You Deserve! How to Guerrilla Market Yourself" by Jay Levinson and Seth Godin, one thing that helps us to get what we deserve (job, spouse, whatever), is dressing the part. If we want to be taken seriously, we have to dress like we should be taken seriously. Nice looking duds, beautiful grooming, not smelling like a moldy piece of cheese, etc. etc.
Judging by all the makeover shows on TV, apparently this is a lot harder than it seems. While clothes shopping with my daughter, I saw scads of teenage girls take armloads of clothes into dressing rooms to try on. When they were finished, they had maybe one piece they liked. My daughter tried on 30 pairs of jeans during one shopping trip and found only one pair that fit correctly.
This is just the clothing aspect of being one's best. Then there are all the annoying habits we pick up that we have to cure, plus the interpersonal weirdness we engage in (like complaining about someone behind his/her back, but being unwilling to talk to that someone face-to-face). Most of us are out of shape. We don't know how to behave in front of a camera, or speak in front of a crowd. The great lot of us are FLAWED. How do we get out of bed every day?
Before you get too depressed, just think, we flawed folks make the celebs shine in sparkly, splendiferous wonder. Our schlumpy-ness allows them to serve as our guides in how not to be so schlumpy. What's their secret? Sssh! It's personal.
They have personal stylists . . . personal trainers . . . personal tailors . . . personal marketers . . . personal "how-to-look-natural-in-front-of-a-camera" instructors . . . personal speech coaches . . . personal life coaches . . . personal people that help make them look perfect, even if they don't always behave perfectly. (All that perfection takes its toll.)
How beautiful would we all be if we had a few personal coaches assigned to us? Would we be able to tolerate the glare?
According to the book "Get What You Deserve! How to Guerrilla Market Yourself" by Jay Levinson and Seth Godin, one thing that helps us to get what we deserve (job, spouse, whatever), is dressing the part. If we want to be taken seriously, we have to dress like we should be taken seriously. Nice looking duds, beautiful grooming, not smelling like a moldy piece of cheese, etc. etc.
Judging by all the makeover shows on TV, apparently this is a lot harder than it seems. While clothes shopping with my daughter, I saw scads of teenage girls take armloads of clothes into dressing rooms to try on. When they were finished, they had maybe one piece they liked. My daughter tried on 30 pairs of jeans during one shopping trip and found only one pair that fit correctly.
This is just the clothing aspect of being one's best. Then there are all the annoying habits we pick up that we have to cure, plus the interpersonal weirdness we engage in (like complaining about someone behind his/her back, but being unwilling to talk to that someone face-to-face). Most of us are out of shape. We don't know how to behave in front of a camera, or speak in front of a crowd. The great lot of us are FLAWED. How do we get out of bed every day?
Before you get too depressed, just think, we flawed folks make the celebs shine in sparkly, splendiferous wonder. Our schlumpy-ness allows them to serve as our guides in how not to be so schlumpy. What's their secret? Sssh! It's personal.
They have personal stylists . . . personal trainers . . . personal tailors . . . personal marketers . . . personal "how-to-look-natural-in-front-of-a-camera" instructors . . . personal speech coaches . . . personal life coaches . . . personal people that help make them look perfect, even if they don't always behave perfectly. (All that perfection takes its toll.)
How beautiful would we all be if we had a few personal coaches assigned to us? Would we be able to tolerate the glare?
Labels: clothing, daughter, fame, flaws, perfection, seth godin
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Jealousy in a Skimpy Black Dress
As a creative type, I hate to admit this, but I get jealous. Not in a bad way, though. More in a spur-me-to-do-better way.
I just finished reading Susan Jane Gilman's Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress: Tales of Growing Up Groovy and Clueless. The book hilariously details Gilman's years growing up in New York City and her years beyond. She seems to have been quite the outgoing, but self-depricating child/teenager/young adult. I can't count the number of friends she discusses during her wild escapades. The chapters that really struck a chord with me were "Mick Jagger Wants Me" and "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress." The former details her near chance encounter with Mick Jagger as she and a friend stand outside a recording studio waiting for him to appear. First Keith Richards appears. After they exchange greetings, Susan panics. She doesn't want to meet Mick this way, as a groupie outside a studio door. She had always imagined being introduced to him. She flees. Later, she gets the surprise of her life at a dinner party. Mick Jagger shows up and she is introduced to him. You'll have to read the book to find out what happens.
I can fully understand that notion of wanting to be introduced to a celebrity, as though one is a normal person and not some moony-eyed slavering devotee. There are very few celebrities I have a hankering to meet. The celebrities that really get my attention are those with incredible talent and artistry. Their writing or art or music or whatever, has to strike a chord with me. (Isn't that the way we all feel?) I hate that larger industries and the media place these people so out of reach from the rest of us. Author Michael Joseph Gross has written a wonderful book on the interrelationship between fans and stars. It's called Starstruck.
As an aside that fits this post, I had a dream last night in which my family and I hooked up with the neighbors and headed to a local park, where I was thrilled to see Dave Matthews performing (I think he was doing a solo gig, because I didn't see the rest of Dave Matthews Band). The audience wasn't very big - which is not the usual scenario at a Dave Matthews concert. Dave left the stage and headed to a spot in the grass nearby. I and several other people walked over to meet him. He appeared lost in another world. I came around behind him and gently touched his arm to get his attention. It was sweaty because he'd just been performing. Thing is, the feeling was so real for a dream that I woke with the sensation still in my fingertips. I saw that he was on a cellphone and I walked away. Meeting him simply wasn't worth bothering him.
Freudians, you may start analyzing now. I think I was considering/recognizing the humanness of a celebrity who seems to be more than human. In any case, Susan's Mick story hit home.
As for her Hypocrite chapter, man, I laughed and cried as she described her adventures in buying a wedding gown. And I cheered her on as she found one that fit so beautifully that she felt like a princess. Everyone should have a personal tailor or fitting expert.
,
Here's where the jealousy part comes in. Susan has such a fine grasp of language that knock-out descriptions pop up all over the place. For example, this one from page 93: "She used the tone adults use when they haven't the faintest idea how to relate to children - the vocal equivalent of aspartame." Can't you just feel the rotten taste on your tongue? Oooh! Green envy! I wish I could write so well. But, I have to remember, this isn't a competition between me and other writers. It's a competition between me and myself, with other writers serving as prods to my improvement.
I just finished reading Susan Jane Gilman's Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress: Tales of Growing Up Groovy and Clueless. The book hilariously details Gilman's years growing up in New York City and her years beyond. She seems to have been quite the outgoing, but self-depricating child/teenager/young adult. I can't count the number of friends she discusses during her wild escapades. The chapters that really struck a chord with me were "Mick Jagger Wants Me" and "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress." The former details her near chance encounter with Mick Jagger as she and a friend stand outside a recording studio waiting for him to appear. First Keith Richards appears. After they exchange greetings, Susan panics. She doesn't want to meet Mick this way, as a groupie outside a studio door. She had always imagined being introduced to him. She flees. Later, she gets the surprise of her life at a dinner party. Mick Jagger shows up and she is introduced to him. You'll have to read the book to find out what happens.
I can fully understand that notion of wanting to be introduced to a celebrity, as though one is a normal person and not some moony-eyed slavering devotee. There are very few celebrities I have a hankering to meet. The celebrities that really get my attention are those with incredible talent and artistry. Their writing or art or music or whatever, has to strike a chord with me. (Isn't that the way we all feel?) I hate that larger industries and the media place these people so out of reach from the rest of us. Author Michael Joseph Gross has written a wonderful book on the interrelationship between fans and stars. It's called Starstruck.
As an aside that fits this post, I had a dream last night in which my family and I hooked up with the neighbors and headed to a local park, where I was thrilled to see Dave Matthews performing (I think he was doing a solo gig, because I didn't see the rest of Dave Matthews Band). The audience wasn't very big - which is not the usual scenario at a Dave Matthews concert. Dave left the stage and headed to a spot in the grass nearby. I and several other people walked over to meet him. He appeared lost in another world. I came around behind him and gently touched his arm to get his attention. It was sweaty because he'd just been performing. Thing is, the feeling was so real for a dream that I woke with the sensation still in my fingertips. I saw that he was on a cellphone and I walked away. Meeting him simply wasn't worth bothering him.
Freudians, you may start analyzing now. I think I was considering/recognizing the humanness of a celebrity who seems to be more than human. In any case, Susan's Mick story hit home.
As for her Hypocrite chapter, man, I laughed and cried as she described her adventures in buying a wedding gown. And I cheered her on as she found one that fit so beautifully that she felt like a princess. Everyone should have a personal tailor or fitting expert.
,
Here's where the jealousy part comes in. Susan has such a fine grasp of language that knock-out descriptions pop up all over the place. For example, this one from page 93: "She used the tone adults use when they haven't the faintest idea how to relate to children - the vocal equivalent of aspartame." Can't you just feel the rotten taste on your tongue? Oooh! Green envy! I wish I could write so well. But, I have to remember, this isn't a competition between me and other writers. It's a competition between me and myself, with other writers serving as prods to my improvement.
Labels: band, clothing, concert, creative, dave matthews band, fame, jealousy, music, susan jane gilman, writing
