I Quit.

I quit Instagram. I deleted my account, and it’s not the end of the world but the start of new communities and opportunities.

Instagram isn’t for me, not any longer. I decline becoming a product. I quit on principle. Instagram, as a social network, is in part about sharing, and Instagram the company, doesn’t appear to want anything to do with sharing, as evidenced by how the Terms of Service constructs me as product, rather than a a contributor within a broad user base:

To help us deliver interesting paid or sponsored content or promotions, you agree that a business or other entity may pay us to display your username, likeness, photos (along with any associated metadata), and/or actions you take, in connection with paid or sponsored content or promotions, without any compensation to you. — from Instagram’s Terms of Service.

Digitalization of music, film, photography–these have made the ability to share, enjoy, take, steal all the more easy to do–on a global scale. This is the reality of the world I live it. Companies need to make money. However, is making money the core mission of the organization or is monetization an outcome of carrying out well a core mission? When Instagram/Facebook can answer this with conviction, they could become a profitable, value-based organization.

Innovative social media companies in the new connected, mobile age need to find ways to invent how to make money –and I do think they can do this successfully, if they realize what galvanizes collections of diverse individuals into communities, and how these communities will contribute to shared visions that place value on users as partners rather than users as product or customer. Bring value to the user-base and leverage that user base in some shared mission. Users are part of the company’s infrastructure itself–not outside of it. User service isn’t quite the same as customer service or brand or product management.  

I support the move toward individuals as arbitrators of creative taste, of our own “likes” and “dislikes,” and accessibility does this. It shifts the onus to individuals to decide their relationship to creative expressions that pleased them. I like the fact that there are few barriers between what I produce and those who enjoy what I produce. It’s a mistake to think that everyone with an account on Instagram is using it for the same reasons or using it in the same ways.

When I was writing for literary journals (magazines), the circulation was small, as these tend to be housed/funded in colleges and universities. A few hundred subscribers, a few thousand subscribers maybe. Often it was other writers writing for writers.  That’s a closed loop–and not all that pleasing or satisfying for me. So being able to write and photograph to share my work directly here or on a photo-sharing network does away with that middle step, that barrier, and I enlarge my circulation, through my own efforts by engaging networks. I find pleasure and value in receiving feedback directly from those who have an interest and follow my work. There’s agency here in how and why we create in an interactive, networked world–not just what we create.

There’s really just three reasons for why I make photos and write: 1. I find pleasure in expressing myself verbally and visually, 2. I find creative and intellectual satisfaction in asking questions and trying to better understand my world, and 3. I want to please others, those who see/read what I do, by moving them either intellectually or emotionally. That’s it.  Sharing on-line makes #3  possible and brings with it consequences.

Where I share and how I contribute to a community is important to me. It’s the heart of creative expression: communication and community. I don’t want to create or photograph in a private world of my own, isolated from others, removed from the influences of others. I believe humans have, innately, a deep desire to share, to express, to understand and be understood. And we create to engage these in ourselves and others, whatever our means or mode of creation.

We create to reach ourselves and each other. Sometimes this means moving through the barriers of our own making as much those of others. Sometimes there’s clutter in our way. Sometimes we haven’t the vision or courage to see our desires through. Other times, we fall short of the accountability to stand behind mistakes, learn, and move on.

Pockets of users–really, content providers– took a flexible app that made community/network building easy and forged new ways of imagining what a little photo/social app could do. This was behind the meteoric rise of Instagram, its popularity among people like me in late 2010. With the Facebook purchase and ToS debacle, Instagram over-reached and was slapped back. The real blunder though was clearly on display: a mission to make money. Instagram/Facebook doesn’t get community–.

Our Own Frontiers

Photo of Truck and Church
Photo: “A Strange Dream,” Seattle, December 2012. iPhone 5

To our own frontiers we go to wander and to search, to work and to dream. To be.

Does my smart phone make me more creative?

Someone on a social media site not too long ago asked:  is mobile photography creative?

To be clear by “mobile photography,” she meant smart phone photography. The thread received a lot of traction, with 30 plus comments quickly offered. I was late to the query, so I reviewed what others said before adding my thoughts. I guess there’s this advantage for latecomers. Not many responders were actually taking photos with their smart phones, regardless of the expert commentary they provided about “mobile photography.” As is often the case in such company, the responses skew toward the negative. It’s a reason I infrequently participate in these kinds of conversations; they tend not be conversations but more like railing, which seldom moves understanding forward as hard and fast as the many strong emotions that pop up. The entire comment thread  can easily get out of hand, not to mention off topic. This time, I did participate, though, because I found and still find the initiating question interesting . . .

Does your camera make you more creative? Does you smart phone make you more creative? Does your word processor  make you more creative? No, I don’t think so because I don’t think this way.

How can a device be creative? Isn’t creativity a human endeavor, a decidedly human trait, so far as we know and understand our world?  What role does a device, an appliance, a tool play in my expression of creative impulses? I don’t believe any of my cameras have made me any more or less creative than I already was. They do not instigate my desire to express myself in imaginative ways. They don’t initiate my desire to observe or to record my experience and perception of this life I’m living.

Whether pen, word processor, camera, paintbrush, what our tools of expression do is enable us to act upon the imaginative impulse. They can pose to us barriers of expression via cost, technical know-how, accessibility, aptitude, or something else along these lines. In these ways, tools can inhibit our expressions or enable. But they neither articulate or silence the expressions themselves as an intrinsic part of what they are, which to me, are variations of a mechanical device. The finger, painting upon a stone, is also a tool, but one that is more intimately a part of the human form. However, the finger, too,  can be separate from that same being’s internalized vision–the hand can or can not make what the heart feels or the mind thinks.

My smart phone helps me realize some of my visions for visual expression, both those I’ve always had but didn’t express and those I didn’t quite know I had until I began to play with what was available to me. As I find new ways to use apps or cameras, I find new possibilities that may exceed what any tool was originally designed for or made to do. This is an impact of creative thinking: to envision and find ways to enact those visions. A block of wood used for something other than building or burning, a camera on a cell phone used to scan and sample the artifacts and experiences of the material world: we can have a transgressive relationship with our creative tools–they can affect how we work as we define how they work with us.

I’m not any more or less creative because a smart phone camera is now an important means of my visual expression. What I am is more inclined to pursue the impulses I have to express myself and to do so more frequently, to explore avenues that weren’t apparent to me when I was creating/photographing in isolation, away from the influences of seeing the work, inspiration, motivations, and habits of others. My networked smart phone and PC help me do this.

This is a hand-held, fit-in-your-pocket tool of verbal and visual communication. It can be a conduit of creative expression by helping to cultivate fluency, frequency, skill, exposure, and habits that build stimulate or reward my desire to create, to make apparent what I imagine. But all that is really dependent upon my decisions, judgements and actions–whether I use it or not, like it or not, hold assumptions about it or not. So, no, my smart phone doesn’t make me more or less creative. It’s a machine. It can be a conduit to enable expression, but it does not express or create without me–not yet at least.

Time’s Effect

Photo of man crossing street

Photo: “Time’s Effect,” Seattle Dec 2012, iPhone 5

What are we in the absence of our hurry? Stilling my mind amidst hyper stimuli is no easy task. To be mindful is challenging as chaos swirls. To sort endless streams of information. To be quiet  when white noise envelopes, and I want to holler back, “enough.”  Complicated beats keep time to something other than the human heart, or so it seems. Rhythms race. Traffic lights blink. Car horns sound. And there is wailing–but these, these are internal sirens. Pushing agains the grain, a maddening siren screams at no one in particular and everyone at once.

 

Waiting for Superman

Photo of phone booth and street
Photo: “Waiting for Superman,” Astoria, Oregon. November 2012 with iPhone 5

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell what’s going to fit and what isn’t.

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