Over the past year, every time I go to a conference or listen to an expert talk about the media, the word they keep repeating is "story." Personally, I prefer "story" over the term "transmedia" or "gameficiation" which is like saying I like my directions to take me to the destination in the fastest, most clear-cut possible way. I'm happy we're getting back to the simple process of story versus the convoluted gimmick of creating content for gameification or data mining sake.
Simultaneously, I've been noticing that as a community Instagram possesses so many interesting creative users; users that are incredibly active not only in creating unique content, but in engaging with their tight, more handpicked community of friends. I've seen Instagram used for secret party invitations and to chronicle the whimisical private moments of life that not all of us want to share with everyone we've met. The Instagram community is much more curated than being on Facebook. Half my family are friends on Facebook, but none are on Instagram. In my secret life working with the team at Lowe Counsel, I enjoy spending time throwing random ideas out into the world. Just today, driving through the rain, glimpsing yet another Cross-Fit gym opening out of nowhere on Eagle Rock Boulevard, I wondered what's going to be the cross-fit of technology? Little did I realize it would only take about 5 hours to find out.
I never would have imagined that Soundcloud and Instagram would have joined together to create Storywheel in honor of Soundcloud's 10 millionth user. But Soundcloud is like a sonic Instagram - a wonderfully inventive worldwide community of musicians, djs, and artists alongside ordinary people that love to share the wonders of sound.
What is Storywheel, you might ask? It combines your Instagram library with Soundcloud's recording ability - so you can create a retro sound slideshow of your favorite photos. Having just seen "The Artist" last week - I've been thinking and arguing with others about what makes a modern film great. Great characters, great story. Playing with Storywheel this afternoon reminded me there is a similar joie de vivre about microsites and software when it gives users the ability to create something out of what was previously just a log of photos. It made me think yet again that compelling storytelling can be rather simple. You just need to create likeable characters - and it doesn't hurt to have great music and some well-timed sound effects.
For a long time, I've wanted Lola Chickenpants, my long time travel buddy, to talk. Storywheel made the process intuitive and easy. There was no editing. No endless features. 10 pictures and record. Now it's done. Definitely not a great story, but I love her world of characters, and you've got to start somewhere.
I'm sure, not just for me, but for the thousands of other users too - it gives them a small sense of joy, this act of merging sound and image during those short days of winter when being inside staying warm makes something as mundane as voicing an imaginary friend a magical possibility.
Introducing Lola Chickenpants A Life on Storywheel.
Pacific Standard Time, the citywide art show celebrating Los Angeles art since the 1950's, has just released its latest video starring Ice Cube, in which he shares his love for the work of Charles and Ray Eames. It's an offbeat, but riveting 2 minute tribute - which will forever have me thinking about the universal language of architecture and the meaning of freeways.
"The 110? That's gangsta traffic right there!"
Good stuff worth sharing. And I agree - I love the Forum too.
Many years ago, I picked up a couple volumes of this series studying contemporary architects, but it wasn't until just now that I discovered the original box set where my volumes once lived.
I really like the Mies Van Der Rohe volume, which marries biography with extensive sketches, floorplans, models and photographs of his masterworks.
Architectural books like these are almost philosophical mementos, filled with glimpses of inspiration, including this quote which seems at home here.
"Like music, architecture must wait for realization on someone other than its author."
With that, I think I may just contemplate all my favorite Mies buildings while we wait for dinner to arrive.
I've been thinking about rainbows all morning after looking through fashion highlights of Friday night's celebrations on the streets of New York.
And seeing how much funky rainbow attire there was out there, it really makes me believe that we're going to be seeing lots and lots of rainbow in the coming months.
As a child, I always liked drawing rainbows, except mine always had a pink addition.
I particularly like this dripping rainbow from Threadless.
Send me your favorite rainbow fashion and object links below.
The subject of the Hobart Kitchenaid mixer arose as in passing tonight when Tristan told me about his new toaster oven. I've known Tristan since he was 1. I babysat him and happily we became life-long friends. He's truly like my brother from another mother. He told me the story of how he forced his dad to let go of his mother's vintage Hobart Kitchenaid mixer. It was a polished steel behemoth of a mixer. It was the one thing in the kitchen I was advised almost 20 years ago to never touch, as it was fragile. But over the years, when Anne, Tristan's mother, would take it out, I would marvel at its prowess, this sophisticated yet antiquated machine that made magic with whatever it stirred. I found it to be a kind robot, yet a highly intimidating one and I think except for one time when I helped Anne make something and was supervised, I never touched this reigning champion of domestic kitchen objects. But it lived on the counter by the back door for a long time and I always admired and respected it. I was under the impression it was Anne's mother's mixer - and over the years, I believe Anne told me a few stories about it in passing, but I didn't remember them - and I don't know - I just knew there was some family history attached to it. The knowledge that it was gone strangely upset me - I never voiced that I would ever want it as I hardly bake - I just always figured it was something that Tristan would want of his mother's. But our nostalgia for objects differs even if we often share many of the same memories from all the time we've spent together. I truly understand why it would have no use for him. Yet it was a physical reminder that an object that triggered memories of his mother, who tragically passed 2 years ago, was now absent. I awoke in the middle of the night imagining the mixer and being unable to fall back asleep, found myself in the dark, searching for replacements on Ebay.
For the past month, Sean and I have been watching "Battlestar Galactica" almost every night. In the show, one of my favorite sets is of a hallway of remembrance. Throughout the series, characters come to a makeshift shrine on the spaceship to post pictures of those that have recently died - and it is a recurring and moving plot device to set scenes there soon after a character has suddenly passed - in which the surviving friends and family decide where to place the photo of the deceased on the wall. In many ways, I feel that photoblogging objects mimics this act of coping for me. No longer do I need to collect if I can take photos or use others that already exist of common and uncommon items that resonate with stories of those around me, stories that I often feel conflicted developing as a writer.
In this instance, I believe the memory of the object may actually prompt me not to buy a mixer, but to bake with others that do. I have always found something zen-like in mixing - personally, that's the most satisfying part. My friend Rob once told me that it's impossible to write a perfect sentence, but easy to clean a toilet to perfection. I would like to add that I agree - I find writing an almost impossible feat that I am defeated by daily - but believe it's also not that hard to get the lumps out of the most stubborn dough, if you stir enough and every once in while, ask others to lend a hand.
My friend Phil is in town and one of the first things he asked me was, "Do you have any new Fix Your Accent signs?"
About 3 years ago, I started collecting them - they were everywhere around Los Angeles - and they were so wrong that I found it right to photograph them before taking the best looking ones down. At first, I thought they were a joke, but when I called the phone number, they led to a speech therapy service.
I was not the only one smitten with them. Duck Sauce even named a song after the signs.
LA has been stripped barren of them, but I found my remaining four in a box today. They had faded from the Venice sun, but I still find glorious - and thought they should come out as today's object of my affection.
My friend Joe continues to dazzle with his original, short films. When I was in New York in February, I had the opportunity to see two verite fashion videos he created during Fashion Week and I just loved how he was able to capture the models' vulnerability in silence as he shot them behind the scenes prepping. He reapproached the cliche fashion show with an intimate, yet anonymous narrative; it left me so curious to imagine who these men were behind their costumes. I wanted to make up names of each one. The pieces were moody, intriguing and mysterious and I've been haunted by some of the shots of them ever since.
Keep an eye out for this major talent, but in the meantime, watch his latest, which just debuted today on East Village Boys. It falls in between categories, I wondered if it was an ad, a trailer for a film, or just the sexiest short I've seen in a while. But I just love his eye and his style, the music he chooses and the actors he casts. It's a slice of modern life, a fashion verite, and I find it simply irresistible. Repeat!
I meant to publish this last week, but this got locked away in my drafts box. Thought after all my musings on the MOM, I'd share some screenshots I took from my 10 minute Intel experience. Yes, my Museum of Me has since been demolished as it reminds me of a digital mausoleum. As I'm very alive and it makes me feel uncomfortably narcissist, it has since been closed.
Entrance to the Mark Zuckerberg Museum of Modern Privacy (opening in Newark, 2021) with sculpture constructed by Jeff Koons.Update
Creepy blowup shots of my bff's
A collage of stuffed animals and other public moments of social media life that I really should have deleted from Facebook; depressing Ferris Bueller reference. Sorry, John.
The only part that I think looks actually cool.
Is my feeling post trying out Intel's data visualization project that I'm just too private to want to participate in this?
In any event, the best thing about it is that it made me realize that for research purposes, way too many brands and apps have had access to my life, and this inspired an enormous brand purge.
