Monday, July 16, 2007
Eastern Standard Tribe
Have you heard the song "You Made Me Love You"? The next line goes "I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it." The song has been going through my head in relation to a particular issue, only I'd say that love is too strong a word, here. Like is more like it.
I recently read Cory Doctorow's book "Eastern Standard Tribe" and tried very hard not to like it. Very hard. I was predisposing myself not to like it because of something Doctorow wrote in his BoingBoing blog. He was talking about the National Spy Museum's no-photography policy and said:
"Christ this stuff bugs me, especially from museums. These places are supposed to be about preserving and disseminating human culture -- but no taking any pictures or we might not be able to sell as many picture postcards!"
Having worked in a museum for eleven years, I took umbrage with the statement and wrote to Doctorow to explain exactly why museums have no-photography policies. The short version is that we can't expose our collections to the flash of multiple cameras. Some museums allow for the use of cameras with the flash off, but I can understand a no-photography-period policy, as well. If you give some people an inch, they'll take a mile and if you read the BoingBoing post linked above, you'll see that someone took photos at the National Spy Museum with a camera phone. There's another reason for the no-photo policy. Museums collect items that are still under copyright. By law, we are supposed to uphold that copyright. From Doctorow's response back to me, it's obvious that he sees any explanation of museum restrictions to be nothing more than wimpy excuses. We're to give everything away, by golly, and that's that.
That's the short version of why I was predisposed not to like Doctorow's book. Childish, yes. But, I had wanted to read something of Doctorow's prior to the little tiff and decided it was time to get another view of the man. I checked out "Eastern Standard Tribe" and thought, "Well, mister, just show me what you've got." Despite my best intentions, I liked the book. It's got a great premise. With the digital age, people start grouping up with those of similar interest, no matter where they are, no matter what the time zone. Art, the main character, is from the Eastern Standard Tribe, and it's his job to screw up the inner workings of companies in other time zones. The tale swings around, battering poor Art with treachery. The opening scene is of him stuck on a roof with a pencil in his nose, ready to push it into his brain. The story is a bit choppy at first, but stick with it. It's part of the overall flow and it'll make sense after a while. Once in a while I found myself fogging off after some new tech idea was introduced, thinking how could this be pushed further? That's probably just me, though.
So, then, this was the thing I was waffling about. Liked the book, didn't care for the blog statement. Had to think about how to delicately tie the two together. Now the chips can fall where they may.
I recently read Cory Doctorow's book "Eastern Standard Tribe" and tried very hard not to like it. Very hard. I was predisposing myself not to like it because of something Doctorow wrote in his BoingBoing blog. He was talking about the National Spy Museum's no-photography policy and said:
"Christ this stuff bugs me, especially from museums. These places are supposed to be about preserving and disseminating human culture -- but no taking any pictures or we might not be able to sell as many picture postcards!"
Having worked in a museum for eleven years, I took umbrage with the statement and wrote to Doctorow to explain exactly why museums have no-photography policies. The short version is that we can't expose our collections to the flash of multiple cameras. Some museums allow for the use of cameras with the flash off, but I can understand a no-photography-period policy, as well. If you give some people an inch, they'll take a mile and if you read the BoingBoing post linked above, you'll see that someone took photos at the National Spy Museum with a camera phone. There's another reason for the no-photo policy. Museums collect items that are still under copyright. By law, we are supposed to uphold that copyright. From Doctorow's response back to me, it's obvious that he sees any explanation of museum restrictions to be nothing more than wimpy excuses. We're to give everything away, by golly, and that's that.
That's the short version of why I was predisposed not to like Doctorow's book. Childish, yes. But, I had wanted to read something of Doctorow's prior to the little tiff and decided it was time to get another view of the man. I checked out "Eastern Standard Tribe" and thought, "Well, mister, just show me what you've got." Despite my best intentions, I liked the book. It's got a great premise. With the digital age, people start grouping up with those of similar interest, no matter where they are, no matter what the time zone. Art, the main character, is from the Eastern Standard Tribe, and it's his job to screw up the inner workings of companies in other time zones. The tale swings around, battering poor Art with treachery. The opening scene is of him stuck on a roof with a pencil in his nose, ready to push it into his brain. The story is a bit choppy at first, but stick with it. It's part of the overall flow and it'll make sense after a while. Once in a while I found myself fogging off after some new tech idea was introduced, thinking how could this be pushed further? That's probably just me, though.
So, then, this was the thing I was waffling about. Liked the book, didn't care for the blog statement. Had to think about how to delicately tie the two together. Now the chips can fall where they may.
Labels: book, cory doctorow, eastern standard tribe, museum, photography, songs, spy museum
Monday, June 25, 2007
That's Soooo 2000
I've got my new issue of Wired magazine, working my way through it cover-to-cover. That doesn't mean I'm necessarily reading every little thing, but I like to work front-to-back so I don't miss something. The cover image/article is of Transformers - as in the "more than meets the eye" type. I didn't get into these as a kid, so haven't read the article yet. My son went right to it, though - first thing read. I was more interested in the the mapping article "The Whole Earth, Cataloged: How Google Maps is changing the way we see the world" by Evan Ratliff and "Dispatches From the Hyperlocal Future" by Bruce Sterling.
Wired is relentlessly future-seeking, which makes me breathless and frustrated. Can't keep up! Can't . . . keeeeeep. . . up! Part of what makes me feel this way is how Wired's articles talk about what happened a mere seven years ago as if it was ancient history. For example, did you know that the Captcha (those squiggly letters/numbers that you have to type in periodically when doing web work in order to foil spambots) was invented by Luis von Ahn in 2000? Luis von Ahn has moved on to figuring out how to teach computers how to recognize beauty. (See the article "The Human Advantage" by Clive Thompson.) Seems like the Captcha has been around a while, but seven years is nothing in human history. Of course, this notion of three, five, seven years ago being ancient history is not Wired's fault. It's the nature of technology that is warping our sense of time. Wired simply reflects that. (What does irritate me about Wired is its habit of amplifying how incredibly backwards people are if they don't keep up or don't know what every abbreviation means. Where is their online glossary when you need one?)
What astounds me is that human creativity in general has ramped up to that same dizzying speed as technology. Think about how many books are produced per year now as opposed to in the 1800s. The classics from the 1800s are classics because they didn't have as much competition. We have thousands of Ansel Adams, what with digital photography, millions of publishers with blogging (although a good share of those aren't worth the 0's and 1's they're written with), and how many gazillions of movie producers with YouTube. There is simply no way the human mind - a single human mind - can track everything. We simply have to do our best and forget the rest.
Wired is relentlessly future-seeking, which makes me breathless and frustrated. Can't keep up! Can't . . . keeeeeep. . . up! Part of what makes me feel this way is how Wired's articles talk about what happened a mere seven years ago as if it was ancient history. For example, did you know that the Captcha (those squiggly letters/numbers that you have to type in periodically when doing web work in order to foil spambots) was invented by Luis von Ahn in 2000? Luis von Ahn has moved on to figuring out how to teach computers how to recognize beauty. (See the article "The Human Advantage" by Clive Thompson.) Seems like the Captcha has been around a while, but seven years is nothing in human history. Of course, this notion of three, five, seven years ago being ancient history is not Wired's fault. It's the nature of technology that is warping our sense of time. Wired simply reflects that. (What does irritate me about Wired is its habit of amplifying how incredibly backwards people are if they don't keep up or don't know what every abbreviation means. Where is their online glossary when you need one?)
What astounds me is that human creativity in general has ramped up to that same dizzying speed as technology. Think about how many books are produced per year now as opposed to in the 1800s. The classics from the 1800s are classics because they didn't have as much competition. We have thousands of Ansel Adams, what with digital photography, millions of publishers with blogging (although a good share of those aren't worth the 0's and 1's they're written with), and how many gazillions of movie producers with YouTube. There is simply no way the human mind - a single human mind - can track everything. We simply have to do our best and forget the rest.
Labels: ansel adams, books, captchas, creativity, frustration, google, history, luis von ahn, maps, photography, technology, time, wired magazine, youtube
