As the NPR introduction says: "In America, it is possible to work full time but not make a living. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, more than 20 million workers earn less than $9 an hour. At those wage levels, many people have trouble affording the basics -- housing, food, clothing, transportation and health care."
The NPR Special Report Low-Wage America by Noah Adams offers a series of profiles of people scraping by. This is how the other half lives - at least in America.
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Too soon old, too late smart
I've been going on a daily morning run for more than ten years. For years I've struggled to take my running shoes off when I get back, especially in winter when my fingers are numb and clumsy.
I figured out a decent solution over the last couple of days. You have to make sure to have the loose ends clear of the know before pulling; then, after pulling the knot open, you keep tugging on the ends to loosen the tie across tongue; finally, grip the tongue and pull it up to loosen the threading before removing your foot.
Ten years it took me?
One could conclude that I'm just a putz. There is a little more to it, perhaps: The fact that insights, major or minor, take an indeterminate amount of time to reveal themselves. Insights can't be scheduled. They can be encouraged, but they'll show up when they're ready. A Simone Weil quote that I've been looking at for a while (from the "Little Zen Calendar 1996" that Kiko Shinoda gave me - yes, I'm in no hurry to tear off each day's saying and move on to the next one):
Also: solutions to problems may just show up even when one isn't looking for them, or even realize consciously that there is a puzzle to be solved. We muddle through the tunnel of routine, not noticing problems as soluble, let alone trying to solve them.
There is so much about the world that could be better, and we just don't know it. I suddenly realized how to take off a pair of trainers - just think of the real problems that need to be solved, let alone the problems that we don't even notice we have.
Solutions probably show up unexpectedly because we ignore problems that don't seem to have solutions. This is a hallowed tradition in academic circles: why work on a problem if you can't get a paper out of it?
On the other hand, artists often take pride in "asking questions" without feeling obligated to propose answers. I would find this pose less aggravating if they occasionally highlighted problems that we didn't already know we had. As it is, the "problems" are invariably old faithfulls like "discrimination" or "the nature of representation" or "violence". Booooooooring! And not helpful...
Finding problems isn't easy, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this entry. Attentiveness, a la Ms. Weil, will help. Forcing oneself to look at the world from novel points of view is also necessary. Douglas Adams's advice for dealing with a Somebody Else's Problem Field applies:
So that's my excuse when they come to take me away, and I'm sticking to it.
* I learned the saying "Too soon old, too late smart" from my father. He used to say that he got it from a Jewish friend, but I haven't been able to track down a source. The Omega Faith web site claims it's "an old Dutch saying". There may be something to that; I've also seen it referred to as a Pennsylvania Dutch saying.
I figured out a decent solution over the last couple of days. You have to make sure to have the loose ends clear of the know before pulling; then, after pulling the knot open, you keep tugging on the ends to loosen the tie across tongue; finally, grip the tongue and pull it up to loosen the threading before removing your foot.
Ten years it took me?
One could conclude that I'm just a putz. There is a little more to it, perhaps: The fact that insights, major or minor, take an indeterminate amount of time to reveal themselves. Insights can't be scheduled. They can be encouraged, but they'll show up when they're ready. A Simone Weil quote that I've been looking at for a while (from the "Little Zen Calendar 1996" that Kiko Shinoda gave me - yes, I'm in no hurry to tear off each day's saying and move on to the next one):
Even if our efforts of attention seem for years to be producing no result, one day a light that is in direct proportion to them will flood the soul.
Also: solutions to problems may just show up even when one isn't looking for them, or even realize consciously that there is a puzzle to be solved. We muddle through the tunnel of routine, not noticing problems as soluble, let alone trying to solve them.
There is so much about the world that could be better, and we just don't know it. I suddenly realized how to take off a pair of trainers - just think of the real problems that need to be solved, let alone the problems that we don't even notice we have.
Solutions probably show up unexpectedly because we ignore problems that don't seem to have solutions. This is a hallowed tradition in academic circles: why work on a problem if you can't get a paper out of it?
On the other hand, artists often take pride in "asking questions" without feeling obligated to propose answers. I would find this pose less aggravating if they occasionally highlighted problems that we didn't already know we had. As it is, the "problems" are invariably old faithfulls like "discrimination" or "the nature of representation" or "violence". Booooooooring! And not helpful...
Finding problems isn't easy, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this entry. Attentiveness, a la Ms. Weil, will help. Forcing oneself to look at the world from novel points of view is also necessary. Douglas Adams's advice for dealing with a Somebody Else's Problem Field applies:
Ford was beginning to behave rather strangely [...] Regardless of the bemused stares it was provoking from his fellow members of the crowd gathered round the pitch, he was waving his hands in sharp movements across his face, ducking down behind some people, leaping up behind others, then standing still and blinking a lot. After a moment or two of this he started to stalk forward slowly and stealthily, wearing a puzzled frown of concentration, like a lepard that is not sure whether it's just seen a half-empty tin of cat food half a mile away across a hot and dusty plain.
So that's my excuse when they come to take me away, and I'm sticking to it.
* I learned the saying "Too soon old, too late smart" from my father. He used to say that he got it from a Jewish friend, but I haven't been able to track down a source. The Omega Faith web site claims it's "an old Dutch saying". There may be something to that; I've also seen it referred to as a Pennsylvania Dutch saying.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
In praise of soft edges
I've been sitting in a well-lit room, in a well-lit house, reading Tanizaki's In Praise of Shadows. How superfluous is all the light we live in!
I only really needed some light to illuminate the page. A pool of light would've been sufficient. But the whole house, every room, unseen and unused, is brightly lit. How comforting, to be in this sea of light! Especially in when light means safety, whether for reasons of nature or nurture. Still: is this endless incandescence really necessary, let alone desirable?
I'm suddenly nostalgic for something I've scarcely ever had to live: carrying light with me around in a dark house. We have personal computing, but not personal lighting... Perhaps here is the one reason why fancy home control technology might be worth having: if lights softly sensed my presence, and a smooth pool of light followed as a moved around the house, I would feel more centered in the space. I would have a sense of the spaces moving around me, rather than simply being a unit moving through a machine for living in.
A gradual response would be essential - not sharp ON and OFF. (That's half of the reason why we just leave lights on; the other is that light switches are so often on the wrong side of the room.) Many meeting rooms in modern office buildings have presence sensors, but they are brutally binary: when they have not sensed movement for a while, the lights go simply all switch off in a most disconcerting way. A slow fad to black would be much easier on the nerves.
The same goes for computer displays - screens will suddenly switch off, or pop back from power-save mode. Or take clock radios: the ones I encounter in hotel rooms go from silence to set volume in a sudden crack, fracturing sleep. Or telephones: it's a rare phone that starts ringing softly, and gradually increases its volume if ignored. Sudden movement activates fight/flight responses at the reptilian base of our brains; prompting an unexpected surge of adrenaline isn't a good way for technology to endear itself.
Shadows may not be for everyone, or every culture. However, softer edges between the various states of the technologies that serve us would surely smooth the jagged edges of our lives.
I only really needed some light to illuminate the page. A pool of light would've been sufficient. But the whole house, every room, unseen and unused, is brightly lit. How comforting, to be in this sea of light! Especially in when light means safety, whether for reasons of nature or nurture. Still: is this endless incandescence really necessary, let alone desirable?
I'm suddenly nostalgic for something I've scarcely ever had to live: carrying light with me around in a dark house. We have personal computing, but not personal lighting... Perhaps here is the one reason why fancy home control technology might be worth having: if lights softly sensed my presence, and a smooth pool of light followed as a moved around the house, I would feel more centered in the space. I would have a sense of the spaces moving around me, rather than simply being a unit moving through a machine for living in.
A gradual response would be essential - not sharp ON and OFF. (That's half of the reason why we just leave lights on; the other is that light switches are so often on the wrong side of the room.) Many meeting rooms in modern office buildings have presence sensors, but they are brutally binary: when they have not sensed movement for a while, the lights go simply all switch off in a most disconcerting way. A slow fad to black would be much easier on the nerves.
The same goes for computer displays - screens will suddenly switch off, or pop back from power-save mode. Or take clock radios: the ones I encounter in hotel rooms go from silence to set volume in a sudden crack, fracturing sleep. Or telephones: it's a rare phone that starts ringing softly, and gradually increases its volume if ignored. Sudden movement activates fight/flight responses at the reptilian base of our brains; prompting an unexpected surge of adrenaline isn't a good way for technology to endear itself.
Shadows may not be for everyone, or every culture. However, softer edges between the various states of the technologies that serve us would surely smooth the jagged edges of our lives.
Coping with alien culture
Many years ago, Eric Bear gave me Jun'ichiro Tanizaki's In Praise of Shadows; I was still managing designers then, and he told me that he liked to hand out this book, a personal muse. I treasured this slim paperback mostly for its title, but only started reading it a couple of days ago.
It is so hard to understand what it feels like to be the citizen of an occupied country -- and even harder, to experience the sense of being overtaken by a superior technology -- if one's culture has never been the loser. In a passage describing his difficulties he had integrating Western conveniences into his Japanese home, Tanizaki gives a flavor of this bitter draft.
On our planet, we don't need superior extra-terrestrials. Uncle Sam does nicely.
It is so hard to understand what it feels like to be the citizen of an occupied country -- and even harder, to experience the sense of being overtaken by a superior technology -- if one's culture has never been the loser. In a passage describing his difficulties he had integrating Western conveniences into his Japanese home, Tanizaki gives a flavor of this bitter draft.
There are those who hold that to quibble over matters of taste in the basic necessities of life is an extravagance, that as long as a house keeps out the cold and as long as food keeps off starvation, it matters little what they look like. And indeed for even the sternest ascetic the fact remains that a snowy day is cold, and there is no denying the impulse to accept the services of a heater if it happens to be there in front of one, no matter how cruelly its inelegance may shatter the spell of the day.
But it is on occasions like this that I always think how different everything would be if we in the Orient had developed our own science. Suppose for instance that we had developed our own physics and chemistry: would not the techniques and industries based on them have taken a different form, would not our myriads of everyday gadgets, our medicines, the products of our industrial art -- would they not have suited our national temper better than they do? In fact our conception of physics itself, and even the principles of chemistry, would probably differ from that of Westerners; and the facts we are now taught concerning the nature and function of light, electricity, and atoms might well have presented themselves in different form.
On our planet, we don't need superior extra-terrestrials. Uncle Sam does nicely.
A view from Germany
I found another fascinating perspective on America in Die Zeit's photo gallery.
Michael Najjar's images "Information and Apocalypse" are a disconcerting take on the US war and information machine. See, in particular, the Flash animation "too close to see far".
Michael Najjar's images "Information and Apocalypse" are a disconcerting take on the US war and information machine. See, in particular, the Flash animation "too close to see far".
Sunday, December 21, 2003
A lost web
In 1998 I went on a mid-life crisis road trip. I made a web journal of the journey. I tried to find the web recently, and couldn't. My sense of loss was profound. In musicals, people break into song at moments of profound emotion; I try to write poetry.
copied and archived and backed up
so many times
it disappeared
a stand-in for a memorable journey
a trusted pointer
though unvisited
my thoughts drain into its loss
its referent
now unreachable
Democracy in Latin America
In a fascinating interview in El Pais, the Mexican intellectual Enrique Krauze discusses the prospects for liberal democracy in South America.
I found his comments on the US most striking, however. He says, "[C]reo que nosotros hemos estudiado poco EE UU y ellos han estudiado muy poco el mundo. Ellos son un país casi autista. El único país del mundo donde hay un campeonato deportivo nacional, el del béisbol, al que se llama la serie mundial. Es indicativo."
(My translation: "I believe that we have not studied the US carefully enough, and they, likewise, have not learned about the rest of the world. It's almost an autistic country. It's the only country in the world where a national sporting championship, that for baseball, is called a world series. That's indicative.")
He goes on to compare the British with the American empire; for all its defects, abuses and excesses, the British Empire strove to build the foundations for democracy, and today one can see many democracies among its former territories. The opposite happened in America; the US always choose against democracy in Latin America, and always supported dictatorships.
I found his comments on the US most striking, however. He says, "[C]reo que nosotros hemos estudiado poco EE UU y ellos han estudiado muy poco el mundo. Ellos son un país casi autista. El único país del mundo donde hay un campeonato deportivo nacional, el del béisbol, al que se llama la serie mundial. Es indicativo."
(My translation: "I believe that we have not studied the US carefully enough, and they, likewise, have not learned about the rest of the world. It's almost an autistic country. It's the only country in the world where a national sporting championship, that for baseball, is called a world series. That's indicative.")
He goes on to compare the British with the American empire; for all its defects, abuses and excesses, the British Empire strove to build the foundations for democracy, and today one can see many democracies among its former territories. The opposite happened in America; the US always choose against democracy in Latin America, and always supported dictatorships.
Friday, December 19, 2003
Interpretive art
In an interview with Elvis Mitchell that I heard on NPR today, the actor Ian McKellen said, "... I'm an interpretive artist, not a creative artist."
Perhaps I'm an interpretive artist who dreams of being a creative artist...
Perhaps most of us are. Novelty has always been important; in a knowledge economy where innovation is the source of wealth, it's doubly so. This quote highlights that creating, so critical in an innovation economy, is just one way of being imaginative; interpreting is inspired (i.e., artistic), too.
There are more musicians than composers.
There are more builders than architects.
There are more explainers than inventors.
Without the Kronos Quartet, scores modern composers would be mute.
Without the "finishers", the visions of the "starters" would never be realized.
Without actors, the director's movie won't win an Oscar (or make money).
And the point is: interpreters are not just dumb pipes. They not only complete the work of the creators; they create part of it.
Perhaps I'm an interpretive artist who dreams of being a creative artist...
Perhaps most of us are. Novelty has always been important; in a knowledge economy where innovation is the source of wealth, it's doubly so. This quote highlights that creating, so critical in an innovation economy, is just one way of being imaginative; interpreting is inspired (i.e., artistic), too.
There are more musicians than composers.
There are more builders than architects.
There are more explainers than inventors.
Without the Kronos Quartet, scores modern composers would be mute.
Without the "finishers", the visions of the "starters" would never be realized.
Without actors, the director's movie won't win an Oscar (or make money).
And the point is: interpreters are not just dumb pipes. They not only complete the work of the creators; they create part of it.
The road trip, found
I thought these bits had evaporated (more on that later), but they've been rescued.
At the end of 1998, on the verge of a mid-life crisis, I drove down the West coast in a rented RV. I documented the trip as a web.
Now that I'm no longer the same person -- five years is a long time -- I can say with not too much hubris that I'm quite impressed. The design has held up pretty well, and I found the content stimulating.
A little depressing, too; not all that much has changed in five years...
At the end of 1998, on the verge of a mid-life crisis, I drove down the West coast in a rented RV. I documented the trip as a web.
Now that I'm no longer the same person -- five years is a long time -- I can say with not too much hubris that I'm quite impressed. The design has held up pretty well, and I found the content stimulating.
A little depressing, too; not all that much has changed in five years...
Thursday, December 18, 2003
The Julie/Julia Project - RIP
The blog that inspired me to start writing my own has packed it in. I found The Julie/Julia Project through a Christian Monitor story, and it showed me how fascinating it could be to check in with someone's passion every couple of days.
I'll never have Julie's persistence, or writing skill, but she inspired me to try sharing my experiences on-line.
I missed the wake; wouldn't've made it to the East Coast, anyway...
thanks, Julie
I'll never have Julie's persistence, or writing skill, but she inspired me to try sharing my experiences on-line.
I missed the wake; wouldn't've made it to the East Coast, anyway...
thanks, Julie
Saturday, December 13, 2003
Insight overload
I'm tired of hearing about "information overload".
The claim is that we are being buried in an avalanche of information, unable to find the the nuggets of knowledge hidden in this mountain of data. The implication is that software should help us extract this knowledge from all the data dross.
The real problem is not too much bad information; it's too much good information. There are so many thoughtful insights available to me that my problem is regret at not absorbing all of it, not frustration at not finding "the good stuff". It's therefore more a subjective matter of cognitive capacity as it is a data mining problem that can be solved by software.
I also have an ego problem. Everybody I read seems to be scary smart, or insanely insightful, and I spend more energy fretting about my inadequacy than coming to terms with their insights. I know what I should be doing: standing on the shoulders of these giants, rather than scowling at their kneecaps. (A forest of their kneecaps...) Instead, I'm intimidated by all this wisdom; I resist reading the good stuff because it rubs my face in the fact that my contribution is so meagre.
This is just dumb. So here's my New Year's Resolution:
Reading is like walking through the mountains. You'd be overwhelmed if you try to take in every individual flower and tree along the path. That's a good thing to do from time to time, but one should also take in the shape of the landscape, and the different kinds of vegetation. Sure, I need to read and reply to certain mails. But there's also value in simply absorbing the rhythm and flow of the mail stream: what's hot, who's talkative, what's not being said.
I feel as if there's a plaque in front of my monitor that says
READ!
I need to replace that with the old IBM-issue plaque that says
THINK
The claim is that we are being buried in an avalanche of information, unable to find the the nuggets of knowledge hidden in this mountain of data. The implication is that software should help us extract this knowledge from all the data dross.
The real problem is not too much bad information; it's too much good information. There are so many thoughtful insights available to me that my problem is regret at not absorbing all of it, not frustration at not finding "the good stuff". It's therefore more a subjective matter of cognitive capacity as it is a data mining problem that can be solved by software.
I also have an ego problem. Everybody I read seems to be scary smart, or insanely insightful, and I spend more energy fretting about my inadequacy than coming to terms with their insights. I know what I should be doing: standing on the shoulders of these giants, rather than scowling at their kneecaps. (A forest of their kneecaps...) Instead, I'm intimidated by all this wisdom; I resist reading the good stuff because it rubs my face in the fact that my contribution is so meagre.
This is just dumb. So here's my New Year's Resolution:
Set aside as much time to reflect as to read, and then just read as much as time allows. Don't try to read everything - don't even try to read the all the best things.
Don't read for speed. I can't read all of it anyway. If I aim for quantity I'll see lots of words go by, but nothing will sink in. I should pause at the end of reading something to see if I've remembered anything I read. If I can't, I will go back and read it again.
Enjoy great thinking for its own sake. Don't be envious. Treat it like great music, or great art, or great food. It's something that can make my life better. It's a gift - just accept it.
React, form an option. Feel free to disagree. Any response will help clarify what's relevant to me, and what isn't.
Reading is like walking through the mountains. You'd be overwhelmed if you try to take in every individual flower and tree along the path. That's a good thing to do from time to time, but one should also take in the shape of the landscape, and the different kinds of vegetation. Sure, I need to read and reply to certain mails. But there's also value in simply absorbing the rhythm and flow of the mail stream: what's hot, who's talkative, what's not being said.
I feel as if there's a plaque in front of my monitor that says
READ!
I need to replace that with the old IBM-issue plaque that says
THINK
My life story in 30 seconds
NPR's The Next Big Thing (This American Life meets Arts & Letters Daily) for Friday 12 December had an item on reporter Josh Clafflin's habit of asking anybody he meets: what's your life story - in 30 seconds?
My reply?
"My career goal since the age of twelve had been to win the Nobel prize for physics. That got me to Oxford where I discovered I wasn't smart enough - but there I also met Susan, which was the best of many good things that have happened to me. Since then I've random-walked from one career to another, going from venture capital to art school to software." (20 seconds.)
My reply?
"My career goal since the age of twelve had been to win the Nobel prize for physics. That got me to Oxford where I discovered I wasn't smart enough - but there I also met Susan, which was the best of many good things that have happened to me. Since then I've random-walked from one career to another, going from venture capital to art school to software." (20 seconds.)
Sunday, November 30, 2003
Enough with the Revolution, already
Technology companies love to talk about how revolutionary their products are. They can't have given much thought to how bloody and horrible revolutions are: just think about the French and Russian revolutions.
Since so many IT companies are US-based, this usage is probably inspired by the "American Revolution", which is revered in US history. It was more of a war of independence than a revolution, however. The sustained social turmoil and inter-necine violence that characterized the French and Russian revolutions was absent.
As Encarta defines it, a revolution is a forcible, pervasive, and often violent change of a social or political order by a sizable segment of a country's population. The "revolutions" IT-company CEOs love to tout, on the other hand, are presented as significant improvements in technology products; much is made about the profound beneficial impact this will have on society, though little evidence is given. Nothing is said about profound changes in power structures, though one assumes that they worry that their company will be one to be overthrown.
The past "revolutionary" technology changes that are cited include the introduction of the mini-computer and the PC. Funnily, though, the company which arguably had the most lose in these revolutions is still very much with us: IBM. The companies who disappeared (Amdahl, ICL, DEC, etc.) must've experienced these changes as "forcible and pervasive", and their shareholders must've experienced a violent change to their portfolios.
However, it's misleading to tout Moore's Law are revolutionary. It's impact on productivity may be profound, but the change has been adiabatic. What would be wrenching is a sudden change in the 60% annual growth rate that Moore's Law represents.
Since so many IT companies are US-based, this usage is probably inspired by the "American Revolution", which is revered in US history. It was more of a war of independence than a revolution, however. The sustained social turmoil and inter-necine violence that characterized the French and Russian revolutions was absent.
As Encarta defines it, a revolution is a forcible, pervasive, and often violent change of a social or political order by a sizable segment of a country's population. The "revolutions" IT-company CEOs love to tout, on the other hand, are presented as significant improvements in technology products; much is made about the profound beneficial impact this will have on society, though little evidence is given. Nothing is said about profound changes in power structures, though one assumes that they worry that their company will be one to be overthrown.
The past "revolutionary" technology changes that are cited include the introduction of the mini-computer and the PC. Funnily, though, the company which arguably had the most lose in these revolutions is still very much with us: IBM. The companies who disappeared (Amdahl, ICL, DEC, etc.) must've experienced these changes as "forcible and pervasive", and their shareholders must've experienced a violent change to their portfolios.
However, it's misleading to tout Moore's Law are revolutionary. It's impact on productivity may be profound, but the change has been adiabatic. What would be wrenching is a sudden change in the 60% annual growth rate that Moore's Law represents.
Artists as Exemplary Plebs
Ordinary people don't really care about Art or Artists, but yet, art continues to have broad support in the culture. Perhaps art's appeal is that it's supremely individualistic - the Lone Artist, who is known by his or her name, not that that of their company or clan. Perhaps the majority of people, be necessity at the base of the pyramid, take inspiration from the sight of others succeeding as individuals, as much as they take inspiration from the art work itself.
A distinguishing aspect of our Power Lab session was the flowering of art in the community of "Immigrants", the people at the bottom of the society. It was a key reason why a revolution was averted. What was not unusual, though, was that the creativity came from the Immigrants. It's a recurring feature of Power Labs, and organizations in general, that it's the people at the bottom who are the most creative, and have the most fun.
The "Bottoms" are also the most vulnerable, and as a result typically band together in a WE versus THEY response to the power of the Middles and the Tops. The greatest threat to Bottoms is their susceptibility to group think.
Artists have status not only because give pleasure through the things they make, but also because they represent the potential every Bottom has to succeed on their own terms in a power structure. Artists are stereotypical Bottoms: they are vulnerable and impoverished, they don't own resources (like Tops), and they don't control the flow of resources (like Middles). They inspire other Bottoms by their example of succeeding on their own terms, as individuals.
Artists respond to their predecessors and create autonomous traditions outside the dominant power structures based on wealth and organization. They act on their own - they have the autonomy of Tops without the responsibility of owning a power system. They serve the Tops (the patrons) and inspire the Bottoms (the consumers of experiences), without owing allegiance to either.
Even the power structures in the art world bear this out: The Tops are the patrons and politicians who fund the work. The Middles are the "arts professionals" who are the arbiters of taste and conduits of resources: museum curators, critics, gallery owners. As is typical of the organizational dynamic described by Barry Oshry, inventor of the Power Lab, artists despise the Tops ("Epater les Bourgeois!") and feel exploited by the middles (ever heard artists whining about the percentage their gallery takes?).
All celebrity functions as inspiration and touch stone: it's an example to be emulated and dreamt about. However, the very poverty of artists (celebrities excepted) allows them to be closer model for the much-put-upon Bottom.
A distinguishing aspect of our Power Lab session was the flowering of art in the community of "Immigrants", the people at the bottom of the society. It was a key reason why a revolution was averted. What was not unusual, though, was that the creativity came from the Immigrants. It's a recurring feature of Power Labs, and organizations in general, that it's the people at the bottom who are the most creative, and have the most fun.
The "Bottoms" are also the most vulnerable, and as a result typically band together in a WE versus THEY response to the power of the Middles and the Tops. The greatest threat to Bottoms is their susceptibility to group think.
Artists have status not only because give pleasure through the things they make, but also because they represent the potential every Bottom has to succeed on their own terms in a power structure. Artists are stereotypical Bottoms: they are vulnerable and impoverished, they don't own resources (like Tops), and they don't control the flow of resources (like Middles). They inspire other Bottoms by their example of succeeding on their own terms, as individuals.
Artists respond to their predecessors and create autonomous traditions outside the dominant power structures based on wealth and organization. They act on their own - they have the autonomy of Tops without the responsibility of owning a power system. They serve the Tops (the patrons) and inspire the Bottoms (the consumers of experiences), without owing allegiance to either.
Even the power structures in the art world bear this out: The Tops are the patrons and politicians who fund the work. The Middles are the "arts professionals" who are the arbiters of taste and conduits of resources: museum curators, critics, gallery owners. As is typical of the organizational dynamic described by Barry Oshry, inventor of the Power Lab, artists despise the Tops ("Epater les Bourgeois!") and feel exploited by the middles (ever heard artists whining about the percentage their gallery takes?).
All celebrity functions as inspiration and touch stone: it's an example to be emulated and dreamt about. However, the very poverty of artists (celebrities excepted) allows them to be closer model for the much-put-upon Bottom.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
I've just come back from a week in an immersion training course: the "Power Lab". It's a social simulation where participants live out the roles of being at the top, middle and bottom of a society. It was held up in the mountains - it was cold! Each society works out differently; ours managed to avoid a revolution through art. Some haiku came of it:
piebald mountain egg
feldspar and mica and quartz
a granite pebble
lime green lichen
tendrils of symbiosis
algae and fungus
food, bed, deception
something blossomed in the frost
no cowabunga
piebald mountain egg
feldspar and mica and quartz
a granite pebble
lime green lichen
tendrils of symbiosis
algae and fungus
food, bed, deception
something blossomed in the frost
no cowabunga
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