The Land Before Vine
Backstory
I've had a number of conversations about film and media content creation. Quite frankly, I'm obsessed. I mentioned my career path-- or lack thereof-- in my "Introducing Me" page, but in case you missed it, I'm a film and IDS double major. And while I'm absolutely terrified at the prospect of devolving into a person whose pride stems from her ability to make a mean Happy Meal, I can't pretend that I'm not enthralled by the prospect of creating images to reflect the oddity and majesty of the mind's inner workings.
So here I find myself, lost, but so sure that I need a creative career, lest I wither away behind a desk at my 9-to-5. I'm sure of that, if nothing else. My mind gravitates towards imaginative... everything. The other day, I found myself weighing the artistic merit of posters sporting topless women. The other night, I paused during my 3 am trek from the library to my res hall so I could explore the uniqueness of taking photos at night. (I sat on the ground, played with iPhone filters, and it was a great experience overall, really.) I've spent countless hours poring over student-produced magazines assessing the graphic design, color scheme, photo composition, modeling ability. Funny how watching every season of America's Next Top Model will make you feel like an expert on that kind of thing. And someday, in some parallel universe, when I'm a part of the real world and am (mostly) independent, I will be the expert on all these things, But in the interim, I find myself struggling to make it from Point A to Point B, oblivious to the intricate workings of Photoshop, without a professional camera, and forever annoyed with Emory's lack of graphic design classes. I often feel like quite the novice as a result. Above is an example of this mediocre--but still fun, admittedly-- photo editing that I'm privy to doing. Or, such was the case, I should say, in the Land Before Vine.
I've had a number of conversations about film and media content creation. Quite frankly, I'm obsessed. I mentioned my career path-- or lack thereof-- in my "Introducing Me" page, but in case you missed it, I'm a film and IDS double major. And while I'm absolutely terrified at the prospect of devolving into a person whose pride stems from her ability to make a mean Happy Meal, I can't pretend that I'm not enthralled by the prospect of creating images to reflect the oddity and majesty of the mind's inner workings.
So here I find myself, lost, but so sure that I need a creative career, lest I wither away behind a desk at my 9-to-5. I'm sure of that, if nothing else. My mind gravitates towards imaginative... everything. The other day, I found myself weighing the artistic merit of posters sporting topless women. The other night, I paused during my 3 am trek from the library to my res hall so I could explore the uniqueness of taking photos at night. (I sat on the ground, played with iPhone filters, and it was a great experience overall, really.) I've spent countless hours poring over student-produced magazines assessing the graphic design, color scheme, photo composition, modeling ability. Funny how watching every season of America's Next Top Model will make you feel like an expert on that kind of thing. And someday, in some parallel universe, when I'm a part of the real world and am (mostly) independent, I will be the expert on all these things, But in the interim, I find myself struggling to make it from Point A to Point B, oblivious to the intricate workings of Photoshop, without a professional camera, and forever annoyed with Emory's lack of graphic design classes. I often feel like quite the novice as a result. Above is an example of this mediocre--but still fun, admittedly-- photo editing that I'm privy to doing. Or, such was the case, I should say, in the Land Before Vine.
Like, the Plant?
Au contraire, reader. Vine is video creation application developed for smartphone users. Because it relies on the smartphone interface, it operates via the touchscreen function of the phone. As thus, it records only when the user's finger or stylus comes in contact with the screen. This virtually eliminates the editing process and allows users to create "vine magic" where stoppage of the camera goes unnoticed because the phone remains in the same place. Vine will record a maximum of six seconds, and afterwards, it loops, creating an unusually hypnotic continuum of these pint-sized pictures. When you post the video, you have the option of sharing it on other social media sites such as Twitter and Facebook-- but not without adding a score of hashtags, first. (Such as: #Happy #Fun #Shoes #Upgrade #Girl #Vine ... You understand, I'm sure, how this can spiral out of control.) Below are a couple of vines I created, the first, entitled "Upgrade You," and the second, "Throw Some Sweets On It."
Au contraire, reader. Vine is video creation application developed for smartphone users. Because it relies on the smartphone interface, it operates via the touchscreen function of the phone. As thus, it records only when the user's finger or stylus comes in contact with the screen. This virtually eliminates the editing process and allows users to create "vine magic" where stoppage of the camera goes unnoticed because the phone remains in the same place. Vine will record a maximum of six seconds, and afterwards, it loops, creating an unusually hypnotic continuum of these pint-sized pictures. When you post the video, you have the option of sharing it on other social media sites such as Twitter and Facebook-- but not without adding a score of hashtags, first. (Such as: #Happy #Fun #Shoes #Upgrade #Girl #Vine ... You understand, I'm sure, how this can spiral out of control.) Below are a couple of vines I created, the first, entitled "Upgrade You," and the second, "Throw Some Sweets On It."
How it Ties In
--Because it does, I promise. But wasn't that fun? This is where the aspect of digital identity comes in. In lieu of any formal training, I make vines. I recently created my own account, but I've long since taken pleasure in watching and rewatching these mini motion-pictures. They've become a famed source of pint-sized entertainment, and fulfill the conditions for what McPherson identifies as a "meaningful electronic relationality" by "[short-circuiting] the lenticular logics which characterise much of contemporary life, bringing together self, other, and machine" (NMB, 189). I find that Vine accomplishes much what McPherson calls media to do. For me, filmmakers and media moguls represent the "other", and vines --the "machine" in this case-- allow me to bridge the gap between the two spheres, even if somewhat artificially so.
Furthermore, hashtags --trivial and overbearing, though they may be-- unite individuals with similar interests and experiences. It's truly amazing to see how a simple hashtag, say, #99Problems or #WhyAmIFriendsWithThesePeople (which both link to Twitter, since Vine has limited PC functionality) convey a sense of sameness, despite any physical borders the users may face.
At the same time, unfortunately, McPherson's claim that "many forms of of digital self-creation . . . support an additive lenticular logic, framing the difference of race via . . . the separatist mentality . . . where the safety of sameness fixes difference as either removed or absolute" resonates with Vines as well (NMB 188). Trends such as #WhyDoBlackPeople exemplify this process, which generalizes the social tendencies of blacks and mocks or judges them as such.
This is where my digital identity becomes muddled-- can I no longer be this filmmaker? Must I adhere to these stereotypes? If I don't, do I lose my identity altogether? Boyd's and Ellison's research articulate my thoughts here even better than I can: "The articles in this collection highlight the significance of social network sites in the user . . . Collectively, they show how networked practices mirror, support, and alter known everyday practices, especially with respect to how people present (and hide) aspects of themselves and connect with others" (Social Network SItes: Definition, History and Scholarship, 223).
--Because it does, I promise. But wasn't that fun? This is where the aspect of digital identity comes in. In lieu of any formal training, I make vines. I recently created my own account, but I've long since taken pleasure in watching and rewatching these mini motion-pictures. They've become a famed source of pint-sized entertainment, and fulfill the conditions for what McPherson identifies as a "meaningful electronic relationality" by "[short-circuiting] the lenticular logics which characterise much of contemporary life, bringing together self, other, and machine" (NMB, 189). I find that Vine accomplishes much what McPherson calls media to do. For me, filmmakers and media moguls represent the "other", and vines --the "machine" in this case-- allow me to bridge the gap between the two spheres, even if somewhat artificially so.
Furthermore, hashtags --trivial and overbearing, though they may be-- unite individuals with similar interests and experiences. It's truly amazing to see how a simple hashtag, say, #99Problems or #WhyAmIFriendsWithThesePeople (which both link to Twitter, since Vine has limited PC functionality) convey a sense of sameness, despite any physical borders the users may face.
At the same time, unfortunately, McPherson's claim that "many forms of of digital self-creation . . . support an additive lenticular logic, framing the difference of race via . . . the separatist mentality . . . where the safety of sameness fixes difference as either removed or absolute" resonates with Vines as well (NMB 188). Trends such as #WhyDoBlackPeople exemplify this process, which generalizes the social tendencies of blacks and mocks or judges them as such.
This is where my digital identity becomes muddled-- can I no longer be this filmmaker? Must I adhere to these stereotypes? If I don't, do I lose my identity altogether? Boyd's and Ellison's research articulate my thoughts here even better than I can: "The articles in this collection highlight the significance of social network sites in the user . . . Collectively, they show how networked practices mirror, support, and alter known everyday practices, especially with respect to how people present (and hide) aspects of themselves and connect with others" (Social Network SItes: Definition, History and Scholarship, 223).
So What I'm Saying Is
Vine is a wondrous platform for self-expression and experimentation with video editing in an easy, low-pressure setting. Not without faults, however. It simultaneously limits me and my interaction with the greater public by identifying what is expected of me as a black person, and allowing its users to respond in kind. I'm constantly faced with the decision to limit what aspects of my personality or life experiences each Vine will showcase so I don't substantiate stereotypes such as "angry black women" or blacks' affinity for a wholesome meal of fried chicken, watermelon, and "grape drank". As a result, there's an obvious tension between embracing a culture I often identify with, and rejecting it for the stigma it creates. This conflict of race in the digital world may detract from my creative freedom, but I love Vine, regardless, because sometimes I can transcend these paradigms and be my happy-go-lucky, cinema-loving self.
Vine is a wondrous platform for self-expression and experimentation with video editing in an easy, low-pressure setting. Not without faults, however. It simultaneously limits me and my interaction with the greater public by identifying what is expected of me as a black person, and allowing its users to respond in kind. I'm constantly faced with the decision to limit what aspects of my personality or life experiences each Vine will showcase so I don't substantiate stereotypes such as "angry black women" or blacks' affinity for a wholesome meal of fried chicken, watermelon, and "grape drank". As a result, there's an obvious tension between embracing a culture I often identify with, and rejecting it for the stigma it creates. This conflict of race in the digital world may detract from my creative freedom, but I love Vine, regardless, because sometimes I can transcend these paradigms and be my happy-go-lucky, cinema-loving self.