Archive for January, 2012
Why Attend MacWorld
I am not a hacker. I’m not a developer, an IT girl, an Apple fangirl, or the girlfriend of an Apple developer. Simply put, I enjoy artistry and innovation, and therefore, I will travel to witness collaboration, risk, failures that may become successes [with some tweaking, of course], and the usual assortment of after parties and shenanigans worthy of being described as part of the MacWorld|iWorld experience. Having come to the end of my four days of play in San Francisco, here’s my spin on what MacWorld|iWorld is all about, and why and how you should attend Macworld next year.
Step 1: Find A Host
I gotta tell you, I have lucked out BIG TIME in having a hostess in the beautiful city of San Francisco. While owning a smartphone makes it possible to navigate the city easily with maps, the MacWorld|iWorld agenda app, and Yelp’s mobile app for finding the best places to eat and drink after hours, there is no truly respectable interface that can replace the wise and entertaining eyes of my friend Violet (see her NSFW website, Tiny Nibbles, if you are unfamiliar with her powerful sex education work. She garners bows of worship from me as a psychtherapist and relationship advisor in my other life, as well as a fan of all kinds of art, including exhibitionistic art and erotica).
Violet has graciously extended an open invitation to join her each year at Macworld|iWorld, and I consider my time with her as much a part of my MacWorld experience as any part of the agenda of the Apple-inspired conference. Besides filling up on coffee and cucumber water, and unlimited kitteh snuggles from the ever-adoring @dotkitteh Alex, I have a unique home base from which to think, create, percolate, and network. I have deeply appreciated how her friends are not only connected to the tech and media industry, but they are normal human beings [and not Social Media douchebags] with so much to offer in terms of insight, interesting conversations, and future predictions. They can also expose the soft underbelly of so much of the industry [none of which I will share here!], which helps me keep things in perspective no matter what you hear in the news [thank you guys, you are purrfect]. They also are the same kinds of people who have the power to shape the industry into something more respectable, including Ms. V’s writing and influence in holding SoMe giants responsible for their foibles, fumbles, and social ineptitude on the back channels. My thanks to Victor of TUAW (@superpixels) for also hanging out with V, especially when I was geeking out in some seminar during the conference, and Richie of Hapa Ramen (because your food rawks, and you’re just so sweet!).
I could NEVER have the complete experience of MacWorld without people like Ms. Violet. Why? Because conferences were never about sitting at desks taking notes. It is about an interactive experience free of evangelization per se, and people overflowing with passion for who they are and what they do in life that rawks their world as well as my own. This gets me to my next point.
Step 2: Make Friends
Admittedly, most of these tech and SoMe conferences are getting some serious reputation disses for being geeky excuses for hookups and bad boy/girl behavior. If you’ve never been to one of these geek gatherings, you might assume that people are staring at computers all day, geeking out with their gadgets. But geeks like to party, drink, and socialize too!
Instead, I encourage first-time conference attendees to make friends like rabbits… well, you know [get cuddly, that's what rabbits do!]. Meet all kinds of people. Say hello to people you might not otherwise feel drawn to. Don’t worry: not everyone wants to get into your pants! [and if they do, well, you'll handle that gracefully when you get there]. You never know who you might be talking to. I ran into Rod Roddenberry at least five times during the course of the three-day event [and I have to say, he's just an all-around nice guy that's fun to hang out with]. No matter where you go, or what you’re seeing, comment, start conversations, and draw people in. Before you know it, you’ll be exchanging business cards or “Find Your Friends” information on your iDevices.
I had the extreme pleasure of spending some time with a man I’ll call P [Editor's note: P just DM'd me on Twitter and said it was AOK to use his first name, Paul], the man who convinced me to attend MacWorld 2011. A veteran of the conference, I could easily weed through the plethora of choices of events just by looking at what peaked this man’s interest [translation: he has good taste]! Paul also spends a good amount of his time networking and catching up with friends. This is the way to go: make a conference like this an annual event, and you will get more out of attending than you would if you simply dabbled.
Incidentally, I asked V. about SXSWi 2012, as I had not been back to the conference since 2010. I explained that I didn’t think I knew anyone there. She laughed at me, and in her knowing way, declared, “You’d be surprised how many people you know, and who know you.”. Well, one of these days, I’ll return to SXSWi, perhaps as a speaker. Who knows?
Unleash Your Artistic Potential
From a consumer’s point of view, the exhibitor’s hall of MacWorld|iWorld can fool you into thinking that this conference is not artistic. The joke on the street is that the expo has become a place to buy iPhone/iPad cases. Last year’s show was a major disappointment on that front, and to a certain extent, if the Expo was nothing more than the exhibitor’s hall, I’d have less reasons to attend [i.e. why not throw an expo at each major city in the U.S., if that was all it was?].
What if you put on you artist’s thinking cap, and you planned your attendance around one of these tracks:
digital music creation
digital photography and innovation
digital film making using the iPhone/iPad
drawing and painting
art distribution to the masses (accessibility)
collaborative art projects [mass participation tv, projects that crowd source the input and the output, contests]
For all its emphasis on tech, I think Steve Jobs would be pleased how much emphasis the arts are receiving in terms of using these devices to innovate and revolutionize the way we make art [still need to work on the distribution part of that. Oy veh, iTunes]. I chuckled at the South Park art gallery . For something that looks so low tech i.e. construction paper figures, there is so much real tech involved. Watching Atomic Tom reproduce their live music version of “Take Me Out” recreated on their all-iphone/iPod band, you get a sense that all things are possible in the world of creativity, if you’re willing to take a risk. They did, and it paid off. What about you? Are you willing to take some risks for your art in 2012? BTW, my next post will have some great footage from the Atomic Tom presentation at Macworld.
As corny as it may sound, I am not the least bit surprised that shows like Beats Antique, Cirque du Mac [replete with trapeze artists, stilt walkers, and face painting], and a tribal drum circle to end the conference were some of the better attended events. Why? Because people are artists, whether they know it or not. The dish you “curate” for your home is an artistic choice. The beat you make on a hand drum or a cowbell is an artistic pursuit, even if a temporal one. The fact that we choose to do these things in the presence of others is an artistic choice connected with a desire to BELONG. The drum circle ended up feeling like a scene from The Matrix Revolutions, when all the people have a tribal dance to celebrate their power and their authority to exist, to create, and to thrive in the face of what appears to be insurmountable challenges. We have significant challenges too: mistrust, war, economic adversity, moral distress in our corporate environments, misuse of power and knowledge, every day disrespect from our news sources and media. Beating a drum in unison with hundreds of others proves that we can have a voice, a dream, and a collaboration, provided we are willing to lead and to follow, to give and to receive. Which leads me to my motto: it is never the “thing”. It is what we make it to represent.
Having a host, making friends, and choosing an artistic track are my three keys to having the best MacWorld attack plan ever. And why share it a year before the next one (slated for Jan 30 – Feb 2, 2013)? Because the execution of a good plan really can take a year in advance to milk it to advantage. When time is more precious than money to you, you’ll know exactly what I mean. Plan your Macworld|iWorld 2013, and you’ll have the best experience ever. See you there next year, and be sure to curate your experience beyond the expo floor and the networking after parties.
Next post: the Best of (and the Worst of) MacWorld|iWorld 2012.
On Stealing
Editor’s Note: Today is the first day in three months I did not have to hit the alarm at 5:30AM to drag myself out of bed for the before-work exercise routine. I thought I’d celebrate with writing a blog post, and going back to my routine of writing more often than not, instead of writing obligatorily once a week because that was all the time I could afford between two demanding areas of my career in heathcare. I have rewarded myself with a cup of coffee, almond milk, and a piece of dark chocolate, and a 7:30 AM workout.
While reading Steve Job’s official biography, I was intrigued at the author’s mention of Job’s admiration of Pablo Picasso’s quote,”Good artists copy, but great artists steal.” I had to wonder about Job’s adherence to this philosophy since the world has seen the early days of the development of Apple software and hardware that did not appear to a copy or a steal. Still, I believe Jobs was a type of artist — a consumer artist, if you will — and he did steal ideas from the world around him, such as rounded corners on square icons, which he saw everywhere in design.
From my previous blog post entitled Lusting for Brand Spanking New Art, I’ve already shared my opinion about the lack of new art forms being created, especially in music. What I see is artists who copy and steal, and I believe that good artists do steal. Personally, I don’t think all of that is wrong. If you lift something word for word without credit and without due, that’s plagiarism (and that’s wrong). If you make a tune, write your own lyrics, and put it to the same beat as another popular song, your end product may sound like a copy, but it wouldn’t necessarily be considered stealing. Instead, it’s called pop music! Popular musicians often listen to the music of others and readily list their inspirations. Within their albums, you should be able to trace a lineage of previous musicians; the artist applies his or her style to make it her own sound and give it her own distinctions.
In response to a crowd-sourced question I launched about Picasso’s quote , Twitter friend Paul Sogge wrote this: “It’s a clever statement, whether it was really said by Picasso or not. To me, “stealing” in this case means to make an idea or technique one’s own so that it can be incorporated into something brand new. I think there are really two important distinctions implied here. The first is to differentiate great artists from those who are technically proficient enough to mimic good art, but do not add anything new. Vapid beauty. The second is a response to artists who only want to create something completely new. The unreadable novel. To take an idea from the past might be stealing, but it isn’t shameful. To take something from the past without adding new value is petty theft.”
On Being A Thief: Shameless Stealing VS. Petty Theft
1. Ask permission. While many artistic ideas are free flowing and often un-trademarked acts, I generally think it’s a good idea to get permission to copy an idea you saw in someone else’s production. In the process of asking, you show your respect to another artist.
2. I promote shameless stealing. Several Seattle area dancers have already encountered my practice of writing them with a note like this: “Recently I saw your performance of ____________ at __________. I’d like your permission to use your idea and take it in this direction __________________. If I were to perform this in public, would you like to be credited by name, or any promotional materials added to my show?”
3. Study the concept you are stealing thoroughly. A technical copy of something known may be
boring. A radical adaptation, contrast, or enhancement of the idea could be divine. An example: I have always admired how certain Middle Eastern dancers were true entertainers. She would use expression and comedy to get her audience “with her.” Simply copying her moves from Youtube videos would be a boring and overplayed steal. Practicing “being in the moment” using Butoh and meditation are ways I stole the spirit of these artists, and when I need this spirit, it’s available to me.
During a recent bellydance performance with a live orchestra, one of my zills fell off at the end of my opening number. Instead of picking it up and breaking the routine, I didn’t give it a care. At the end of the song, I turned to the side, drew my arms in the form of holding a rifle, and gave the zill an imaginary bullet! And when I looked up at the audience, they were laughing with me. They were with me.
The point is not whether I played the zills perfectly. The point is that my audience was enjoying this moment with me. Did I steal that idea? Probably. Do I know where I stole it? No, I don’t. Have I studied the concept of humor and comedy in dance? Absolutely. Why do you think I have been attending local dance performances at On The Boards (Zoe Juniper) and Intiman Theater (Whim W’him)?
4. Copy, but don’t paste. Many of us learn to draw, play instruments, and write by studying and copying others. My first poems seem like copies of other poets. Their meter, flow, and energy lack my personal stamp, but that’s why they are a copy, and that is why they stayed in a folder, unpublished but not useless. It’s perfectly fine to spend hours copying others. Classical piano practice was entirely an endeavor that begins with copying, finger movement for finger movement, known works. I just did not expect to get up on a stage and have anyone willing to pay to see me practice scales, just like I did not expect anyone to pay to see my student performances in dance. These were still a stiff and uninspired copy of my teacher’s choreographies. They lacked improvisation, style or personal flair, and the essential energy or spirit of the Artist. That would only come with time and investment.
5. Avoid petty theft like the plague. You see this in the tech world all the time. One company makes something incredible, and later, several other companies try to copy it (with a few changes). Even when the copies are less expensive, the market tends to reward the original creator. Why? Likely, the original creator is more passionate about its product in a way that the copy cat is not. The copy cat is chasing the market, often like the copy cat artist is chasing an audience for attention. They will find a few willing to throw some dollars at a cheap thrill– a copy.
If you focus on creating something you are passionate about — that you believe in, and can’t stop thinking about — you are invested in making your art a reality. You are not focusing on copying someone else’s idea, even if your original thought began with a “steal”. You are then making something “new”; you are adding your own distinction to your endeavor (or as Sogge said above, you’re adding value).
When a band member once said to me, “Keyboardists — you’re a dime a dozen, and you can be easily replaced,” I laughed. Does she really believe that? Similarly, there are over a hundred bellydancers in the Seattle area that could try to dance at the professional level (i.e. employable), but does their sheer numbers and the limitations of venues make any of them replaceable? I would argue, this would only be true if they were copying each other. If they stole ideas from the greater world of art — better lighting, better audio, appropriate costuming, spectacular timing, and physical agility — their dances would only be that much more improved and enjoyed by the masses. If they watched – and stole- other forms of dance in order to develop their own style of movement, they would be adding value to the form. If they studied the Masters, and then added their emotional expression, they would have something to contribute.
Watching other performances and styles is not petty theft: it’s research. Listening to other bands and playing their tunes as covers is not a rip off: it’s an act of expressing one’s own style while walking on familiar path.
We’re living in a digital age where many artists are afraid of being ripped off, having ideas stolen, or being copied. The longer I think about this, the less I worry. If you’re any good, people will copy you. This is just a reality. As an artist, you have already done your own share of copying and stealing, consciously or unconsciously. That cannot be stopped. Nor should it be.
What you want to focus on is what element YOU add to your art that makes it your own. You will know this when someone copies you, and the copy is flawed. You will never have to worry about how good you are, or if there is too much competition. You will be unique. Your art will be sought after. You will be respected for what you do. You will find your niche.
Back To Your Beginning
What is it about traveling back in time to the places we grew up that is so intriguing?
A few years ago, my cousin took me to see one of the many houses I grew up in California during the time my father was working in Silicon Valley. I knocked on the door of this home, still familiar by all appearances: Spanish-style courtyard, fruit trees, and even my mother’s green and white patterned wall paper in the front landing below the staircase. The family living there now thought it fascinating to meet the daughter of the owners who did these improvements. But I know they were scratching their heads.
Why travel back in time to our beginnings? And what does that have to do with living artfully?
1. Remembering how it all began helps us remember where we were headed. The seed inside of us knew what we could become, even if it didn’t know specifically. As young as eight, I knew I would be in healthcare. And here I am. I knew I would be an artist. And here I am! Seeing the earliest traces of that knowledge empowers me to keep going, like the assurance of a map (only an unfinished one).
2. Touching a part of our childhood helps up realize we still know how to play. I still can remember hanging out of that cherry tree, placing those cherries in my mouth, and spitting out the pits on the road. I can feel my skinned knees, tanned skin, and the smell of fresh grass. We caught toads and learned about anatomy (sorry froggies!). We played with a microsoft, slides and slipcovers, and knew what our blood looked like under the biggest “eye” ever. I see myself as I was a child, and I get back in touch with my curiosity, which is the same mindset that drives me to deconstruct music, anatomy of movement, and expression of art in the abstract.
<—If you can’t remember what curiosity feels like, maybe you should ask this critter, who was at the Old Rainier Brewery artwalk on Jan. 14, 2012. This little guy came right up to my camera to say hello, and looked at me with this face.
3. Seeing where we’ve been (i.e. my family’s humble immigrant beginnings) helps us remember we don’t need much to be happy or to be creative. I learned to play piano not on a shiny new eight-foot Steinway grand, but on a faltering piano painted a hideous green, and untunable in the upper and lower register, with two keys that would get partially stuck when the note was struck. Yet I played several hours every day until my second year of college. No matter what you see around you — people spending money thoughtlessly and aimlessly, banks unaccountable for what they’ve done, hungry people standing outside the doors of restaurants while other gorge themselves past obesity — you do not need much to be happy. You do need yourself: awake, present, focused, hungry to produce art.
4. We’re reminded how we were sometimes shielded from the harsh realities of life in order to focus on the task at hand. I was not aware of my family’s financial struggles as immigrants until I was much older. I could concentrate on being a good student. While I’m not saying we should be ostriches with our heads in the sand, but it’s appropriate to invest in your artistic pursuits with undistracted time, resources, and attention. Unplugging from your TV, Internet, and your job increases your chances of giving that attention to your art projects in a way that a divided, frantic “you” cannot attend.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if I took time off to just concentrate on my art (besides neglecting my own financial commitments!). Other artists wonder this too, which is why we do things like take retreats and sabbaticals, and going offline for weekends to unplug from our response-abilities to the world.
As my locum position for my day job winds up soon, I’ve been thinking about my own artistic travels. How much time do I want to plan to take off from work to free myself to concentrate on my art, and to do these trips responsibly? This is an important question for those of us artists who are not funded by a spouse or partner, or do not have artistic pursuits typically supported through grants.
Somehow, I think the child who was me — and who is me now, just a lot more grown up — has the answer. I’m looking forward to my times in 2012 (particularly mid-February in Santa Fe, NM, April in Vegas, and August in Nevada) to press into more artistic adventures.
What do you think? Can you tap the child who was you, and inspire your own artistic journey? How can you overcome the roadblocks you anticipate from becoming a better artist this year?
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