Images source: flickr.com

The objects and tools around us are losing their physicality. Our cars, watches, music, phones, adding computers, and now light sources are less analogue and mechanical, as they become more digital and quantum / nano scale. Although these new innovations perform better, faster, and more efficiently, we lose the ability to see and understand how these technology work. Everything operates in a conceptual black box, as we pray that things work when we need them, because we cannot fix them by ourselves even if we were so inclined. Although we can learn conceptually how an digital watch works, we have lost the ability to use physical cues of how things work. This loss may not be earth shattering, but it does eliminate the ability of us to fix things when they break down as well as adapt their inter-workings to conform to our own needs. We are encouraged to throw away and conform.

Light from oil-based lamps and candles once provided the standard way of seeing at night. Even if you didn’t understand the physics of combustion, you could still built a mental model of how it works through experience working with its physical cues. Fire burned fuel to make heat and light. If a lamp wasn’t working, the problem could only be a few possibilities, most likely having to do with fuel and oxygen.

The introduction of the incandescent bulb worked by sending an electric current though a filament in a bulb. Here, the electric charge flowing through the filament also created heat and light. Electricity was a much safer and convenient energy source for lighting the home, an important advance. However, it was a step away from the physicality of our source for light. Even without precise knowledge of the basic science behind the light bulb, if a light bulb wasn’t working, you could still try to figure out the problem, by checking to see if it was the bulb or the power. We know that when bulbs burn out, the filament breaks. Therefore, we shake the bulb to hear if the filament is broken, albeit gently in case it is not broken. The sound of the broken filament is still an excellent feedback mechanism for testing a bulb. The kind of natural feedback that Don Norma discusses in “The Design of Future Things.”

This simple, yet effective method of testing a working bulb is eliminated when we move to the compact fluorescent bulbs and Light Emitting Diodes. On a physics level, light from CFBs and LEDs work on a nano or quantum scale from the macro or classical physics scale. Similarly, the CFBs and LEDs also take us another step away from the physicality of light. Although we still have bulbs or diodes, respectively, the objects themselves give us less natural feedback to what is going on. How do you tell what is happening when a CFB or LED is dead? I have no idea. CFBs and LEDs are cheaper, more energy efficient and last much longer than incandescent bulbs, which makes the gains in trade off preferred to the status quo.

In the end, I’m left wondering what is the value of this physicality? How important is it for people to have physical models of how their objects work? Am I just being nostalgic for the past or is there something greater at stake?

Image source: murketing,eventbrite

I’m a little behind in the blogging, but I heard Rob Walker for a Q&A with Danielle Sacks from Fast Company, on his book on murketing called Buying In. The event was at the ADC and hosted by the fine folks at psfk. As a speaker, Walker is likable and tells a good story. The questions were designed to give a run down of a book, which was good because it seems like most of the audience hadn’t read it yet. However, there were some nice tidbits that where not in the book. I especially appreciated his condor in stating that coining and branding “murketing” had originated in semi-seriousness; however, the realities of being a writer, (even one who has a weekly column in the New York Times Magazine) means that he needs to be known for his ideas and words.

Money take-aways (which I will paraphrase) :

- Apple iPod users went for fringe pioneers to a tribe of fans. Do you know of any Zune fanatics? Please contact him if you do, because the Zune is basically the ultimate anti-iPod.

- Obama has “projectability,” not unlike Hello Kitty, which allows people to project their ideals and images upon him. Where as, Hilary Clinton was working with a predefined concept in people’s minds, which she had to pivot against.

- American Apparel dropped their sweatshop free branding in order to move from niche to mass. However, they didn’t drop their ethical labor ideals. To them, ethical business practice IS business practice.

- Marketing formulas don’t work because “most formulas ignore culture and culture changes.” What made one campaign or strategy work in a certain time and place may not translation to another implementation because “culture marches on.”

- And probably my favorite idea of the night: saying “I’m down with that,” and clicking a Save Darfur Facebook group isn’t activism.

Video Source: youtube.com

I was in Pittsburgh a few weekends ago, and finally made it to the Warhol Museum. Regardless if you like his aesthetics, Warhol’s influence on post-modern culture is unquestionable. Our current ideas of celebrity, selling out, authenticity, urbanism, mass brands, and cultural production (to name a few) can in some way be traced back to Warhol, whose life was as much of his art as the objects his produced. Many say that if he didn’t do what he did, then someone else would have. But someone didn’t and Warhol did, which makes the point moot.

His appearance on the Love Boat with the parents from Happy Days (which I remember seeing in re-run in the 80s) pretty much encapsulates this influence. From just being on the show, to interacting with middle America sit-com icons to proving the mass appeal of his art, the clip shows it all.

Image source: myspace.com

I’m feeling really nostalgic lately, maybe it’s because the Pixies have reunited, or the launch of muxtape, or that I’ve been catching up with friends from high school and college in Facebook, and then of course, was my roadtrip to Pittsburgh (where I spent my college years.)

For all the reasons above, I’ve been recently listening to my catalogue of Bob Mould and his 90s band Sugar: Workbook, Cooper Blue, and File Under Easy Listening. This prompted me to look into Mould more recent recordings. I had heard that he was went electronic (which is sort of true) and had been meaning to check him out again for a while. So, I finally got his most recent record, District Lines. (Ok, when I say “got,” I mean I bought the mp3s on amazon.com.)

Music was such a huge part of my past especially in my college and post-college years, that there is a distinct soundtrack that I can hinge to parts of my life. If bands are brands as Grant McCracken recently and brand formulates our identities as Rob Walker suggests, then we are what we listen to. However in revisiting this albums, what’s changed over the years, isn’t just what we listen to that is most striking, but *how* we listen to it.

I played it a few times from start to finish. In the age of mp3 downloading and streaming (even the legal ones on myspace or band sites,) who still gives an album three or four full listens just to see if they can get into it? More often than not, I jump from site to site, checking out singles, which often do not even get a full play. Tracks that I immediately like get frequent (sometimes even obsessive plays) for a week before I move on the next ones, most other get are quickly forgotten. The music listening experience is akin to Galactus, the devourer of planets from Marvel Comics, who descends upon a planet to suck all life from it, before it moves on to the next one.

District Lines was a return not only to a musician I’ve admired for years, but also a return to a way of listening to music. I love how Mould uses the traditional album structure, built around tracks 1 and 4. Track 1 “Stupid Now” opens on the quiet side, not unlike “Sunspot” of his solo album, Workbook. But then, the song shifts into great power pop, with melodies layered underneath the noisy guitars that fans expect from Mould. Track 4 is the *hit* track. In this case, “Old Highs, New Lows” shows the electronic influence of DJing at Blowoff, his DC-based party, and is, for me, as least, the biggest track on the album. From his involvement in the electronic scene, Mould started adding electronic elements to his records, like Modulate (which I haven’t bought, but it is now somewhere up on the list,) which confused critics and die-hard rock fans. Maybe he was getting used to the form, or his listeners needed to get used to his new direction. Many people have noted for years, that labels don’t have the patience to nature a musician to develop a sound over a few albums. However, I’m not sure audiences have the patience today either. But it is great to be able to trace the progression of a career over 20 years, plus he blogs.

Images source: latimes.com

I just saw Sex and the City movie opening weekend, arriving to the theater 30 minutes early to find 100 people in front of me. I had avoided the trailers (which basically spills most of the movie) and reviews, so most of the plot twists were still a surprise. To that idea, I am going to avoid major plot spoilers, will with bring up a few product or cultural references and minor scenes that will not ruin the movie. But if you’re a purist, you’ve been warned.

I heard that the movies was getting bad reviews (which is now leading to the inevitable backlash to the backlash.) After seeing I could guess why the critics were panning, and my gut instincts were confirmed after reading up what the critics said after my screening. The movie was made for fans, and the critics for the most part obviously were not watchers of the show. They complained about all the product placement in a movie based on a show the made “Manolo Blahnik” a household name. Furthermore, an early voiceover states that a major theme is “Labels and Love.” Note that labels come first. If you were watching for the fashion you were not disappointed (Louis Vuitton, Vera Wang, Dior, Vivienne Westwood, all make appearances along with the Manolos.) If you wanted new insight on human behavior or a stretch in cinematic achievement, you were disappointed.

The labels of SATC taps into some of my recent readings and posts. Especially relevant is the idea that we create identities from our brands that Rob Walker explores in “Buying In.” In the middle of a very good read, “Transformations,” by Grant McCracken who examines our culture of transformation. Combining these two ideas show the way people seek transformation of the self with brands and in the cast of SATC fan through fashion labels.

Years after the HBO series ended, the cultural currency of SATC is shockingly strong, even if the SATC fan has reached point of cliche. (Before, I delve too far into discussing the SATC fan and lest you think I’m taking easy cultural criticism pot shots, I’ll just admit now that I made plans to see the movie back in January.) Defying negative reviews and blowing out opening box office estimates, fans of the show arrived in droves and in dress. The most telling sign of the strength the shows influence is the film’s ability to self-reference the caricature of the SATC fan, with shots of other groups of female foursomes out for the night. Even more so, we see the on-screen characters state they stopped drinking their once prerequisite Cosmopolitans cocktails (which was the signature drink of the show,) because Cosmos become too popular. The applause which erupted at the end of my screening proved that the audience didn’t take offense. They chose affirmation over critique of the film’s self-awareness of SATC’s cultural impact.

That self-awareness is assuredly post-modern. The movie offers an urban princess roadmap. Moving from renting luxury bags from the internet to owning the real thing suggests McCracken’s idea that our society is not only transformational, but also one of *upward transformational*. The ultimate end point is the penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue, with a closet that evoked an audible gasp from my fellow audience members. Literal references to the fairy tale are seen in the film via a young daughter’s request to have Cinderella re-read to her, which reveals the existence and the power of the SATC myth of (for the vast majority of fans to realize) the unobtainable. Therefore, the myth relies on a simulation of a lifestyle which is constructed and supported by both the creators and actors of the show, as well as, the fans.

The simulation relies on more than buying knock off LV bags on Canal Street, but the SATC creators involvement as well. Sarah Jessica Parker’s foray into producing fashion is her Bitten line, with Steve & Berry, a ultra-inexpensive clothing chain where dresses cost under $10. The relationship of the culture and myth SATC and the fashion world is complex. Vera Wang criticized the Steve & Berry line, perhaps feeling defensively of rendering the sanctity of not only the fashion designer but of luxury itself. I guess they made up because a Wang gown has a fairly prominent placement in the movie. Perhaps, Wang realizes that in this new world of simulated luxury, she is as dependent on SATC and Parker as they are to her. It is hard if not impossible today to make couture profitable, thus designers use couture for brand building and eventually go mass to make the serious money. (Teri Agris’ “End of Fashion” is still to my knowledge the best description of the evolution of fashion from top down scarcity to horizontal mass.)

This duality of the simulation, of the myth maker and believer mutual reliance on each other should ultimately not be that surprising, although it feels that it should. The relationship is a house of cards of interlocking layers, and seemingly contradictory forces.

With the current world of mass luxury and simulated luxury, the end result is that the very idea of luxury itself becomes a myth and part of the simulation. It is rendered meaningless by both the producers, buyers, and aspirers. We must keep up the illusion, but how can this balancing act last? Removing scarcity, will ultimately destroy the idea of luxury. Perhaps, it is already gone, as Cathy Horn has wisely suggested, and if that is true, what comes next?

Image source: Flickr

Lots of press and media coverage on Millennials (and the Gen Xers who loathe them) has been recently crossing various news media outlets. The back and forth on Radar Online is particularly telling. The slap down by Gen X representative Robert Lanham and the rebuttal by Alex Pareene, is highlighted by their references to a 90s Gen X Time magazine article and the movie “Reality Bites,” the so-called movie about Generation X, and the following indignation by Gen Xers. Trying to boil a generation down to a few stereotypical traits is never going to satisfy a large group of people, especially those being examined. We live in a society of individualism, which is antithetical to that kind of categorization. I recall seeing “Reality Bites,” and found the idea of it speaking for “my generation” laughable. Not that it was a terrible movie, but can you really encapsulate the complexity of people born in a twenty year span in 100 minutes?

Generation X resented being deemed by “slackers” for basically being young, by their Baby Boomer predecessors. Ten years later, the Millennials are reacting against the labels of being “A.D.D. Facebook addicts.” What is so surprising?

Why aren’t people seeing that this conflict of generations as just the way human nature and history work? Each generation is always afraid and resentful of the next one, just like a king wanting to produce heirs but being afraid of them usurping his power. In today’s youth obsessed culture, parents still strive to be cool in their middle age and beyond. In the 90s, I remember reading a quote in article on Gen X, with a quote I’ve carried with me. A Boomer being interviewed said, “We weren’t supposed to get old,” which an American interpretation  of the traditional generation gap. In one sense, yes, I can appreciate the underlying social forces which produced this continual sentiment (which goes far beyond this one person.) On the other hand, I just want to say, get over it.

Today, I manage to hit architecture, Japanese pop culture, intellectual property, and branding all in one (fairly) short post.

My favorite building in New York is SOM’s Lever House. Built in the International Style in 1952, its form of blue-green glass is perfectly proportioned. The building also been known to house some eclectic art by the likes of Damien Hirst and Keith Haring. Recently, Tom Sachs put an instillation of Sanrio characters without their permission. Sanrio seems to be cool with it, where as they are generally very protective of the brand against counterfeit merchandise.

I love the telling comment from David Marchi, the Sanrio brand manager: “You know, there was Marilyn Monroe and Andy Warhol, and then Michael Jackson and Jeff Koons. When you’re an icon, that’s what happens… [Sachs] even put Hello Kitty’s bow on the correct side of her head. And that’s something we pay attention to.”

In “Buying In,” Rob Walker talks about how the silent Sanrio characters allow us to project meaning onto them, which is part of the reason behind their decades long popularity. Here, Sachs’ sculptures recontextualize something familiar, but using a foreign scale and material. That is only one part of the equation at play here. The other part is the authorized use versus unauthorized use of Sanrio’s intellectual property. We have these deep relationships with brands, as Walker noted, and we use them to express ourselves and formulate our identities, which I have been thinking about a lot lately. It isn’t surprising that people would want to use these brands as the source material for other kinds of expression. Unfortunately, this repurposing is often illegal, and companies are very protective of the trandmarks and copyrights of their brands. However, at the end of the day, how different is fan fiction from Sach’s work?

Late nights are a rarity, but still fun. Here is a photo taken at 3 a.m, about a week ago. Alex was craving ramen, and we scored on at this place on St. Marks. Sorry, I didn’t take photos of the food or even remember the address. I leave the food blogging up to other people I know.

Last Friday morning, I stopped by Likemind to see Piers, Noah and others, as well as to pick up an advanced copy of the book “Buying In” by Rob Walker. His publisher, Random House, offered Likemind attendees in North America free copies and kindly paid our coffee bill too. Walker is a journalist who covers marketing and consumerism for the New York Times. The book attempts to explain why we prefer certain brands, for seemingly irrational reasons. His theory is that we have a deep relationship and dialogue with the products we consume. More importantly, we use these products to create our own self-perceived identity and they give meaning back to us. Changes in marketing strategies have made the relationship even more complex, as the traditional modes of advertising such as mass television and print ads give way to the untraditional methods of “viral” or “guerrilla” marketing. The shift blurs the differentiation between marketers and consumers. Many of the cases he covers will be familiar– Pabst Blue Ribbon, Red Bull, Timberland, American Apparel, and of course Apple’s iPod– especially if you read Walker’s column “Consumed” in the New York Times Magazine.

The idea works like this: we buy into brands and their products mainly in order to a tell a story about ourselves to ourselves, not just to other people. Many successful brands are a blank slate, onto which people can project various stories. These multiple meanings allow certain brands to grow beyond their initial niche. Messages from marketers as well as peers shape our perception of what a brand means. Things get interesting when Walker explains how, although we believe that we can see through marketing and branding, exposure to external messages (that is, marketing) can affect not only our perception of quality but the *actual* quality of a product. He cites an extremely interesting study by Dan Ariely, Baba Shiv, and Ziv Carmon, which gave a group of students an energy drink, its true full price, and told them a scientific study showed that the drink helped mental performance. These students did better than students who were given only the test. Surprisingly, other students who given various combinations of getting the drink, being told it was cheaper (and therefore less valuable,) and that the drink “might” improve performance all did measurably *worse* than the control group.

The relationship between our identity and our brands become apparent when we look at two human drivers that Walker mentions, wanting to be an individual and wanting to belong to a community. The two seemingly opposing internal motivations work out in fascinating ways. We buy products that conform to what we perceive to be our individual taste. However, our unconscious minds process and react to much more than our conscious minds detects. My point is not to argue that we are victims of subliminal “buy popcorn” images in movies. Rather, people are complex beings, full of, emotions, gut instincts, competitiveness and irrational thoughts. If we were truly rational beings economists could more easily explain our behavior, and everybody would be saving more, eating healthy, and exercising a few times a week. Further, the “truth” that we bestow onto our brands is relative. The actual “truth” about the brand is secondary to our perceived brand identity. As Walker notes, anti-marketing hipsters can drink a “working class” beer like FBR, when in fact, it is increasingly drunk by hipsters and less by mid-Western working class beer drinkers.

Walker also describes how the lines between marketer and consumer are blurring, as I previously mentioned. As with most business books these days, he coins a new term for this observed phenomenon, in this case “murketing.” He goes on to describe how new marketing companies hire “agents” to push products onto friends, family, local store owners, and strangers. The key insight here, is that the agents often do this for free, because they like the feeling of empowerment from sharing their ahead of the curve knowledge about upcoming products to people. What is also interesting is that many of the agents aren’t the hipster influencers in the Lower East Side that Malcolm Gladwell describes in “The Tipping Point” or as Walker names as “Magic People.” Instead, they are regular people with regular jobs, living pretty much anywhere. This idea of weak links and how influence spread through them deserves a post of its own.

Often, people make the claim that people are in control over their decisions, and are further aided today by having overwhelming access to consumer product and service information. This is true, but the issue is more complicated than that. In the past, my general reaction was that this idea, while true, is only part of the equation. We need to insure that our society supports media literacy for people to have the tools to properly deconstruct all the marketing we increasingly exposed to seeing and hearing. Now, Walker’s research suggests that media literacy is not enough.

“Buying In” is mostly descriptive, rather than normative. Walker doesn’t go out and definitely argue that murketing is itself bad, and acknowledges that he too is influenced by these forces at play. He cites his personal questioning of his allegiance to Converse sneakers as an authentic anti-establishment choice after it was purchased by Nike. He does starts this exploration some of the ethics behind our brand-based identities in his coverage of Etsy and craft culture. The founder of Etsy, Robert Kalin, states that his mission is to create authentic “connections” with the things we own. I saw him speak at the recent PFSK conference and was interested to hear him talk about wanting to move towards away from big box shopping and towards a more authentic bazaar-like experience. Walker reports that Kalin has the goal of having his entire wardrobe be hand made products from his site. While this is a noble goal, it does not attempt to unbundle our identities from our brands, be it an artisan on Etsy or the Gap. I would have liked to see Walker take his ideas further in a more normative direction, and explore the possibilities of walking away from our brand attachments. What would happen if we unplugged from our brands? How would we and those around us react to separating ourselves from our possessions? Is that even possible? Even better, what stories would we construct about ourselves? Who would we be?