— Stuart Buchanan

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Literature & Publishing

Imagining The City is a simple idea, simply executed and simply suggests where storytelling could go from here.

The iPhone app, produced by Queensland University of Technology, tags short stories with relevant Brisbane locations on an in-app map, allowing the reader to delve deeper into the creative geography of place. There have of course been similar ideas in the past – Blast Theory‘s Rider Spoke springs to mind, as does the wider psychogeographic movement – and, whilst this is an easy-to-interpret and straight-forward looking app, it hints at a wider opportunity, yet to be seized.  There are thus far eight stories (which is sadly slight for a city as wildly imaginative as Brisvegas), concentrated in a tight radius.  The tales are rightly short for reading off the iPhone screen, and – as a particularly nice touch – each also has the option to hear the story read by the author themselves.

There is a fantastic concept within this, and I hope that the next iteration will up the ante and deliver on the promise.

Letter To Jane was certainly the first, and remains one of the few indie zines that I’ve read on my iPad. In a cluttered market of Readers Digests and News Limited titles, it’s quite a relief to find something that confidently positions itself as an “indie art magazine”. They are now onto their third issue, and to subsidise development of their fourth , they’re turning to Kickstarter’s crowdfunding platform to raise the necessary $5,000. The intention is to develop the user experience of the iPad magazine into something that is substantially more “interactive and multimedia rich”.

Whilst there’s nothing particularly unusual about their pitch, the rewards for backers is interesting – a pledge of $200 or more will bag you the full source code for the magazine platform once its complete. It’s not a plug-and-play reward – you still need to know your way around the iPad development platform to create your own zine – but for those looking to get a head start on tablet publishing, this looks like a sound opportunity.

And if you just want to peruse a bunch of moody monochrome shots and articles on artists such as Best Coast, Washed Out and Dam Deacon, you can start your collection for 99c right here.

Kickstarter: Letter to Jane Magazine for iPad + Source Code

For the next generation of children, a magazine is just a broken iPad.

via Mashable and @artypaul26

This is an archive post from my previous blog, first published in May 2008:

As a brief history of counter culture over the last fifty years, Matt Mason‘s ‘The Pirate’s Dilemma‘ is a tight read. Richard Hell, The Situationists, Radio Caroline, Duke Reid‘s dub excursions, Taki 183 (arguably the first graffiti artist), David Mancuso, Richard Simmons, Dizzee Rascal - all them play a role in Mason’s theatrical study. Part Freecomonmics, part punk fluro-ride; it’s not often linear, and the ideas sometime over-reach (the parallels between hip hop and neo-classical economics are a little on the abstract side) – but it thunders along at such a gallop, that you take all that in your stride. Mason’s central premise is not dissimilar to Mark Pesce‘s closing presentation at last year’s Web Directions South which read: “The net regards censorship as a failure, and routes around it” – in Mason’s world, youth culture regards closed doors as an ‘failure’, and route around them. And therein lies the lesson that informs the book’s subtitle, “How Youth Culture Is Re-inventing Capitalism” – fighting piracy is far less effective (in economic terms) than stepping up the challenge and playing pirates at their own game.

Case in point – Just as pirate station Radio Caroline ultimately begat BBC Radio One back in 1960s, so too did Napster and its ilk lead directly to the birth of iTunes. Apple is now the number one music retailer in the U.S. (ahead of Wal Mart) for a good reason. Everything about iTunes – the architecture, the interface and the sensibiltity – all ripped off from P2P software clients. Apple looked at the how the pirates were performing (and with over 35 billion illegal music files currently in circulation, they’re performing well) – and they played them at their own game. They walked into the pirate’s territory, stole their tools, stole their strategy and stole some – but not all – of their audience, (certainly enough to make their business undeniably viable). The RIAA on the other hand tried the opposite tactic – to fight the pirate. Absurd fan-bashing law suits, millions of wasted dollars and an entire cultural backlash later, the RIAA now represents institutions on the death-ward slide.

‘The Pirate’s Dilemma’ is full of such stories, although the chapter that interested me most was ‘Ethernomics’, which opened with an exchange from William Gibson‘s novel ‘All Tomorrows Parties’:

“Alternative subcultures. They were a crucial aspect of industrial civilisation in the previous two centuries… But they became instinct.”
“Instinct?”
“We started picking them before they could ripen.”

As Mason puts it “every area of life is being mined for cultural value”, and whereas in the past subcultures and ‘movements’ would have had the oxygen of time to morph and grow, many are now being strangled quickly at birth – strangled by a marketing and advertising industry driven by the need to find an ‘authentic’ voice, to ‘connect’ with the so-called ‘youth market’. By way of swift and imprecise example, here in Australia baile funk hipsters Bonde Do Role have already soundtracked an underwear commercial for Bonds without any airplay outside of community radio and Triple J, and blogger-favourite Santogold is already being used sell make-up on primetime TV, on the same day that her debut album hits the stores. From near-obscurity to absolute overground commercialism without taking a breath. But should we really be grieving? With the auto-aggregating might of Last.fm and Hype Machine, is there really such a thing as ‘underground’ anymore?

Well, of course there is – it’s just very well hidden. Mason’s pitch is that it’s a cultural movement that can be found in any number of non-Anglo-American urban sprawls around the world. He’s pinning his hopes on the artistic cultures that remain hidden by way of geography and, given enough time and clicks, they will be exposed to the world. But surely, once even slightly exposed, they’re just as – if not more – susceptible to the tentacles of the marketing machine?

Truth is, it’s deeper still – the next great ‘youth movement’ is already in the canals, motherboards and cables that connect like-minds to like-minds. It started with P2P and we’re already living through its golden age. It’s a silent revolution, yet it’s a worldwide expression of total dissent. It’s not a musical innovation or a revolution in visual style, it’s far greater – all over the world, the next generation are quietly tearing down the statues. How? By turning off. Turning off the old media (commercial broadcasting, newspaper mastheads) and shying away from old models of both commerce and cultural engagement (multinational retail stores, major record labels, old-school institutions) – the foundations of the 20th century are crumbing around us in favour of new ideas. The ways in which we work, play, learn and love have all changed dramatically in the last ten years, and all such notions (and more) are still in the process being rewritten from the ground-up in a massive, cultural open source project.

To me, it’s nothing less than a total paradigm shift in human engagement, driven by the emerging web-enabled generations who know nothing of a pre-broadband, analogue world. We all know this because we’re living it, and as the light of recognition makes its way across the planet, Dizzee’s going to seem very insignificant by comparison.

This is an archive post from my previous blog, first published in January 2008:

dojinishi

I was fascinated by a recent Wired article entitled “Japan, Ink: Inside the Manga Industrial Complex” – not just by the wildly engaging tale about underground fan-fic, but more so by writer Daniel Pink’s resultant epiphany about the future of music copyright.

In researching the article, Pink explored the literally cavernous world of the Tokyo comicon – where over 30,000 non-professional manga artists paraded their wares to the adoration of their seemingly insatiable fans. The phrase ‘non-professional’ is key – each of these artists is creating illegal fan faction, or ‘dojinshi’. I’ve long heard of fanfic relating to American sci-fi series, where characters finally get it on in the biblical sense – and what holds true for the Mulder and Scully fanfuck also holds true here. Amateur’s create their own stories, their own worlds, their own remixes of their favourite manga characters and sell them to a public desperate to feed on alternative, yet parallel, material.

“The violations at Super Comic City were so brazen and the scale so huge … by day’s end, some 300,000 books sold in cash transactions totaling more than $1 million that just about any US media company would have launched a full-metal lawsuit to shut the market for good.”

But here’s the rub – Japanese copyright owners are largely turning a blind eye, knowing that the fanfic feedback loop can only mean audiences return again and again to the source.

“The dojinshi are creating a market base, and that market base is naturally drawn to the original work,” [convention organiser Kouichi Ichikawa] said. Then, gesturing to the convention floor, he added, “This is where we’re finding the next generation of authors. The publishers understand the value of not destroying that.”"

Pink goes on to show how dojinshi is an example of the 21st Century’s “read/write” culture – an extension of the notion that the general populace is morphing from passive consumer to creative ‘prosumer’. He argues that copyright law is a hangover from the last century’s “read only” culture, and – as emerging web technologies only serve to further the cause of the “read/write” revolution – something has to give. And this is where Pink hints at an interesting future for all the creative industries:

“[A] possibility is something akin to [Lawrence] Lessig’s Creative Commons licenses. Copyright holders could voluntarily reserve only some of their rights or perhaps create a special dojinshi license that allows fans to reproduce and remix works in limited ways. That’s probably the ideal option. And perhaps some day Big Media will see its virtues.”

Musicians have for years been offering acapellas and dubs as part of a singles package, with the principle aim of encouraging djs and producers to create their own remix, their own sub-version. They can play it in the clubs or play to it their mates, but – until the advent of the mp3 blog – that was the end of the story. Now we have a whole mp3 blog subculture devoted to illegal rerubs and a subset of that where the remix is defiantly superior the original. What the ‘dojinshi licence’ offers is to take that further, legitimise rather than criminalise the act, and let everyone – source artist, producer and fan – reap the spoils.

Find the article at wired.com/techbiz

img: flickr: mutantfrog