Fashion is...
:)
How can all of the excitement of sharing things on the Internet happen at the most local level?
How might online social media bridge communities and network local life in a collective way, much like an allotment site rather than a landscape of fenced private gardens?
Yes, there are community websites and local forums. Yes, applications like NetVibes. Yes, groups on Facebook. Yes, opportunities for networking via Ning. And yes, lots of brilliant initiatives around the world that encourage digital activism, storytelling and new content creation.
But is there a process that can be rolled out over time locally that encompasses all of these things, brings them together, networks activity, pools interest, shares knowledge and could become a platform for collaborative local change in the future?
These are some of the questions behind a digital design workshop that will take place in Butetown, Cardiff, in the Old Banking Hall, Bute Street, July 24th 2009 (1000 - 1800hrs).
The workshop will pool the knowledge of people actively working on the development and application of social technology for social benefit.
It will be a practical session that maps existing online networks, matches them against offline communities and then comes up with a practical plan to implement what might be called - for a slightly hippy phrase - online community weaving. (with respect to June Holley and Network Weaving for inspiration).
The event is being organised by Tom Beardshaw of Native Media, Jeremy Gould of Whitehall Webby and me. It follows research in to local internet use, analysed by Kelly Page of Cardiff Business School; and will be a backroom brainstorm in advance of an event in the Autumn which will invite local internet users to work with social media geeks to co-design a forward plan.
Butetown in Cardiff is home to 14,000 people and over forty-six different nationalities. It may be cash poor - but it is culturally super-rich.
There are many dynamic members of the community working together on renewal of the area and people keen to explore online media as a way of sharing information, experience and supporting local initiative.
Butetown has a Ning group, local people collect in Facebook groups, kids play games against each other online and there's busy file-sharing going on of music.
This is all great.
But the fragmentation of online social networking mirrors the fragmentation of real life - between new and old communities, diverse ethnic groups, communities of interest and different issues of concern.
If you believe in the power of communication and see the online space as a place that could be socially useful and productive, there's a job to be done to try and find a way to gather online activity effectively.
And if you believe that a key to the future of public management is online public involvement, the digital space in a place like Butetown needs to be supported in such a way as to be ready and able to contribute to the social and economic planning of the area.
Please join our Google Group. Tell us there if you are interested in contributing to the event on 24th July. And look out for the hash-tag #digitalbutetown.
Digital Butetown is a British Council Wales project and part of a larger, pan-European initiative called OPENCities. And it is supported by igloo Regeneration, an investment fund managed by Aviva and described by the United Nations as "the world's first socially responsible property fund".
Street images of Butetown courtesy of Paul Corcoran and Walt Jabsco.
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The U.K. Government has recently published Digital Britain, a plan that seeks to establish the framework for the roll-out and use of broadband technology in the country in the future.
Part of the plan is to establish ways and means by which the 'digitally excluded' can have access to the vast resources offered by the internet, rather than become the untouchables of the knowledge economy.
There's a huge amount going on in the field of Digital Participation just now - and some of the biggest shouts have to be reserved for the grassroots activism of Will Perrin, Talk About Local and the Digital Engagement network in the U.K., the ideas being generated by the Network Weaving group in Ohio, Australian academic Marcus Foth's work on how 'interactive systems' can be designed to support social networks in urban neighborhoods and, as ever, the guiding lights of Clay Shirky and Charles Leadbeater.
But as young people's digital engagement consultant Tim Davies writes in his post on the website of the Royal Society of Arts' Connected Communities program:
sometimes it seems like there can be a gulf between the economics focussed vision of Digital Britain, and the social justice discourse coming from grass roots and hyper-local social media and digital inclusion projects.
Meaning: there's a huge amount going on just now on the framework and supply side of digital inclusion but there's a gap in the middle.
Implication: if we don't sort out ways, means and opportunities to connect the dots of public involvement online, alongside boosting participation and access to technology, society and culture won't capture maximum benefit.
This is an image of a bridge that I helped deliver in Castleford, West Yorkshire. It's a major piece of new infrastructure for a small town that has won awards. Yes, it was designed by an architect. And yes, it was paid for by the state. But underpinning its commissioning and design evolution was a process that aggregated community effort and organization across the entire town and which spawned the formation of a new community group who acted as client and key driver of the bridge project.
This is a composite image of an event held in the town of Middlesbrough, North East England in 2007 that was attended by 8000 people and was the culmination of a process through which over 60 different community organizations grew food in over 240 different spaces and places across the town.
A framework for participation and a narrative was established, then local people elected to get involved, then more and more people got involved, participating on their own terms and, in the end, their aggregated effort has had important impact upon the future of their community.
These projects demonstrate two things that I think are relevant to innovation around digital inclusion.
Both have been successful in generating a community return and triggering new external financial investment - the bridge has been central to Castleford leveraging over £200m ($320m) of new investment, Middlesbrough a new £4m ($6.5m) program linked to supporting a healthier town, with urban agriculture at its center.
But more importantly, both have established mid-level platforms or enabled processes that have collected up existing local initiative, networked them, helped consumers establish a vision for their community and created a narrative that has allowed other groups and people to self-organize.
Now none of this is brain-surgery: those experienced in community organization and urban renewal have been doing similar things for years, boosted by the need to mobilize volunteering, the privatization of public services and the need for smaller towns and cities to construct business cases for investment around a mixed bag of diverse and fragmented land assets.
I have also posted on this theme quite a lot - forgive me! - linked to networking data-gathering, approaching development sites as 'ecosystems' or the value of middle-up innovation in local government.
So what's the relevance to Digital Britain?
All of this leads to two questions:
In urban renewal, the hook is the opportunity to contribute to improving your prospects and the world outside your front door.
If we believe that social technology can have social benefit, it might be useful to be led by this and think harder about promoting the immediate benefits of online existence.
On one level, humanity is already doing this, using Twitter to get the message out from the streets of Teheran and Moldova and then news networks and academics picking up on the use of digital media as an instrument of expression and freedom.
But perhaps on a more mundane level, policy makers and digital practioners might think more on the line of networking existing online social media activity.
If this effort were connected with the larger process of economic improvement of towns, cities and commuities, it's uninpsired name would be the phrase 'digital renewal'.
Images courtesy of knittingskwerlgirl, McDowell Benedetti & Partners and the Design Council.
There are lots of posts here on the theme of food.
There are recipes for cooking dog in Vietnam. Thoughts on why culture has turned celebrity chefs in to society's new investigative reporters. There's been the trauma of the loss of Barbar the Elephant. And food with provenance becoming as luxurious as a felt rug from Kyrgyzstan.
So what's the big deal?
Well, for a long time, I've thought of food as not just a thing that we, er, have to eat to survive but also a bit like art, or at least Nicolas Bourriaud's idea of art as the temporary terminal of a network of interconnected elements.
Quoi?
Well think about food for more than a nano-second and you're instantly thrown in to what it's made of, where it comes from, who has it, who doesn't, its expense, cheapness, how sexy is (friend of Jay Kay) Jamie Oliver, how sincere is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and why does the following expression always seem so true:
Now I think that I might have the answer. And its nestling in the biog of Canadian geographer Dr Betsy J.Donald, author of the book Food Fears:
Food is a prism through which to explore many dimensions of sustainability -- from local economic development to better ecological practice to social stability and opportunity.
*is slightly in love*(?)
Images of grumpy man and meringue courtesy of Tubbyphunk. Chocoloate image unknown.
All urban renewal needs a personal vision.
Cleaning my hard-drive yesterday, I found a slightly-cringey-"needs-a-chill-pill" creatif statement I wrote five years ago and shared with the designers and artists I was working with on an urban renewal programme.
Don't like the condition of the place in which you live?
I've blanked out the name of the place that I was working in. Now fill in the blanks to suit you, blow my stuff away and compose your own...
“I feel the hints, the clues, the whisper of a new time coming.” (Norman Mailer, 1956)
I first visited ________ in December 2002. On a rainy, overcast day, I was confronted by a landscape of vacant, windswept plots totally lacking in incident. Not here - relics of industrial archaeology. Not here – a morphology of landform that represented the erosion of history. Not here – the shadows on the wall, real or imagined, that represent ‘thereness’. Not here – surface, artifice or invention that represents habitation or expression. What was here was the commitment of one woman – the Chair of The ________ Heritage Group – to see better for her town.
In a city like Monrovia, Liberia, identity is expressed in the built environment in two functioning traffic-lights, walls of banks pock-marked with bullet-holes and the declamatory billboard of a phoney gospel medicine-man.
In the empty landscape of the Sahara, identity is expressed through sediments shaped by wind and water in to towering urns, sleeping lions and pyramidal mountains of rock. Like Scalectrix track, a strip of man-made road drives destinies across its fate.
In the night-time streets of Nagoya, Japan, identity is expressed in knotted telegraph wires against a moonlit sky, the Hopper-like midnight liquor corner shop and the paedophile fantasy of a young salary man playing Rayman on his mobile.
Human beings know life through moments. I know mine through ten Liberian paramilitaries pointing AK-47s at my head, my wife hemorrhaging on a stainless steel table after the birth of our first son and the first time I sang aloud the first track from Adam and the Ants’ Dirk Wears White Sox.
All of these moments have a certain architecture – the tailgate of a truck, the floor of a carriage, the pony-skinned upholstery of a chair, Ghiberti’s doors – palimpsests cut in to the material of a life lived.
We expect places to declare equivalent moment. Sometimes, it can be profoundly human one – a place where divisive boundaries are crossed, experiences shared and differences mediated. At other times, it’s pompous, rhetorical and brilliantly superficial – something like the over-formal presentation of haute couture, “The Chanel bag with the inlaid silver chain” or “The Halter-Neck bikini with the fur-trimmed stitch”.
Sometimes, it’s monumental. At other times, fleeting. Sometimes, found. At other times sought or constructed: be it the doorstep painted by the Dutch painter Pieter de Hooch, a giant ad draped on the side of a faceless New York façade or artist Robert Smithson inserting mirrors in to the surface of the desert.
Not ________.
________ is like Tirana, Albania: a landscape of non-selective demolition that has witnessed seismic earthworks, above and below ground, without the legacy of an idea. It is a place full of ends of sentences and no commas. The aliens landed, The Earth Stood Still and what remains are edges of scorch marks known as buildings.
But what’s great about ________ is its foreground: thousands of people with attitude moving through it every day.
What’s great about the town is its underground: a road map of redundant mining galleries, voids of sand, Roman artefacts and an old trashed Mini lying at the bottom of the River Aire.
If the city is a microcosm of the world and the built environment is an essential feature of its personality, what is this world of ________?
All that I can say is: Can you think of a place in the town that you’d like to have your picture taken?
Images: Pat Pat, Jooliah, Craig E. Laycock, National Gallery London.
What kind of shopping experience do you prefer?
This:
Or this?
The first is a newly renovated Wal-Mart SuperCenter in Tabb, VA. The second is the Park Slope Food Coop in Brooklyn, New York.
Big Box Reuse is a book by artist Julia Christensen that charts the adaptation of big box retail units vacated by Wal-Marts and Kmarts for an even bigger box "supercenter" down the road.
In different parts of the United States, empty units have been turned in to things like a courthouse, a library, a school, even a church.
In the book, Christensen quotes a mayor of Bardstown, Kentucky with a good summary of what's been called the industrialisation of shopping:
The new supercenter in town is geared for tunnel vision, tunnel shopping. You go in, get what you need. You are only distracted by the other hundred things in your line of site that you feel like you need to buy.
When are these supertankers going to be turned in to spaces and places appropriate to an age of personalised entertainment or what Richard Layard has called "a time for less selfish capitalism"?
When might superstores take on some of the personality of the awkward, bumpy humanity that is the interior of Park Slope?
Do we need to wait until a knobbly, dirty carrot becomes acceptable to buy?
Or with the rise of internet shopping, are these SuperCenters just spruced-up hulks - soon-to-rust relics of another age?
Images courtesy of Ryanrules and Heather Ring.
Susan Boyle, the star of the U.K. edition of Britain's Got Talent is recovering from the ordeal of her appearance on the show.
The BBC has a flock of pop-psychologists interpreting her fate and TV executives have sought to pre-empt regulation by calling for more rigorous "psych testing" of participants in reality programmes.
This is all very interesting but misses the point, either by design, accident or willful ignorance.
The point is that the media features people like Susan Boyle because they are vulnerable. They're cast because they are extreme and unstable, because in their vulnerability and madness rests talent - and a compelling one at that.
Problem is that once the likes of Susan Boyle, Britney Spears, Kerry Kantona or Paul Gascoigne start to crack, their fate fast becomes, in the words of journalist Jenny McCartney
a prolonged pageant of self-destruction that draws the crowds, like a potential suicide teetering on a balcony.
One way in which the media promotes and embellishes the narrative is by editorializing - giving an opinion that masquerades as objectivity.
But there's another, more posh, deceptive way via eyewitness-style, wannabe 'literary journalism', something that television - and especially British television - loves: voyeuristic journalism cast as high class art, rather than - in the words of Tom Wolfe
a motel you checked into overnight on the road to the final triumph of the novel.
In a recent edition of the London Sunday Times, "international interviewer" Daphne Barak reported on her experience of filming Amy Winehouse for an up-and-coming documentary. The article was republished in Grazia.
The four days Barak spent with Winehouse is cut-down in to a story of Dress Swap, illicit drinking and intimate scenes of Amy playing with children.
Winehouse plays with several young girls and, according to Barak,
it's obvious that Amy feels much more at home with these girls than she does with the grown-ups...She is childlike in her need for affection, constantly coming up to hug us.
Being told off by her father, Amy is said to look like a child who has just been sent to the naughty corner.
After Barak lends Winehouse a dress to go on stage, Amy switches into a little girl who needs approval. She is melting, hugging me over and over again and saying "You're so sweet. You're so nice..."
And the day after a performance, the femme fatale of last night is once again a little girl. She hugs me again and again. I notice at one point that she is sucking her thumb.
Now I am not guiltless in this space.
Over a decade ago, I made a mannered film with English TV presenter and writer Paula Yates that investigated the circumstances of the death of her lover, Michael Hutchence.
But the genius, ground-breaking work of the likes of Joan Didion or Norman Mailer in the 60s, 70s and 80s does seem today to have given way to a deluge of authored aperçus on human nature by journalists and filmmakers.
The prevailing influence of therapy in culture and of vulnerability as a defining feature of 'personhood' seems to allow more and more observers to become analysts.
And a will to typecast a human now turns fast in to the hot pursuit of jeopardy.
So it's a nice idea to introduce more rigorous "psych testing" of TV contestants.
And it's comforting to acknowledge that fame induces undue stress.
But psychodrama is entertainment.
And poor souls like Susan Boyle are its medium.
One great mystery of our time is how to hold an audience.
Simon Cowell seems to achieve it: so cosmetic dentistry is one answer.
But the rise, rise and rise of real-time apps like Twitter and OneRiot and then linked apps like Twitterfall suggest that capturing attention is about to become more infuriating and elusive than ever, as the age of handling things in nicely timed, spaced batches disappears.
In their excellent survey of Media Predictions, consulting firm Deloitte says that in the online social media part of this elusive world, people are wrong to look to make money out of collective engagement upstream but should go estuary:
If members are hard to monetize, the focus may need to shift to generating revenues from the aggregated value of their actions and behavior.
Fine. But that doesn't offer much of a clue as to how to do it.
Filtering content and trending topics may be in vogue. But to capture value from stuff that happens in real-time, there's a need to do more than track and edit.
Call me old-fashioned but to extract significance from something, it needs to be held in a space or place that allows value to be captured, aggregated, indexed and extrued.
A recent story in the London Financial Times gave a slightly Guantanamo/psychodrama name to this, pulled from the ideas of Ronald Heifetz of the Harvard Kennedy School of Government.
In the 1980s, Heifetz suggested that leadership was not the same as authority or management but instead it was the activity of mobilizing "the community" to tackle difficult problems.
A key to mobilizing communities, Heifetz' suggested, was to create a holding environment, defined as
any relationship in which one party has the power to hold the attention of another in order to help them face up to their problems.
The term (apparently) originates in psychoanalysis to describe the relationship between the therapist and patient.
Could it be applied to the ebb and flow of not just social but also digital relations?
On the telephone the other day, I ended up staring at this: 72 Rivington Street, the new HQ of design agency Young Creatives Network.
In the window is a display of piled books by Anna Lomax and Lauren Davies of Jiggery Pokery:
What's great about the location is that a genius(ish) has decided to turn the downstairs of the building in to a public space and offer a lending library.
A few years ago, I worked with a group of community activists in the town of Castleford, England and turned this empty furniture store:
in to a white-walled, wannabe Saatchi gallery:
The refurbishment was supported by several public agencies, including Arts Council England, English Partnerships (now the Homes and Communities Agency), Wakefield Council and social welfare charity the Coalfields Regeneration Trust.
The space has since been enjoyed by thousands of people and hosted art exhibitions of work by artists like Cuban Carlos Garaicoa and local abstract painter Blue Wilson:
The U.K. Government recently launched a programme to revitalize vacant retail units on recession-hit High Streets and turn them over to community uses.
This is great. The space in Castleford cost just £25,000 (USD$40,000) to refurbish, has now been extended to a property next door and has a permanent member of staff.
But the important thing raised by YCN is that private, as well as public places and spaces can be turned towards hosting and delivering different kinds of public experience.
Some empty stores in the U.K. are now being turned over to community services, like policing and children's learning - and I'm helping a chef turn an old carpet shop in to a co-operative, grocery store.
But the idea of turning what could be any old foyer or exhibition space in to a public lending library is a brilliant one.
Main street recession, mutualism and pop-up anything and everything suggests these kind of practical, public-facing, can-do projects are about to have their moment.
Question is, who's brave enough to go the whole way, commit to a supposedly "post-selfish" age and say, turn a disused branch of Woolworths in to a shop, use the income to buy the upstairs and turn the entire building in to a Christiana-style Danish commune?
It's been done countless times before.
Tempted? Visit Wanna Start a Commune?
Images courtesy of Guy Archard and YCN.
For the last few years, it's been a cliche of
the commercial world that to operate in the middle of a market is
suicidal.
The story has gone that it pays either to be an artisan at work in a shed or the employee of a corporate giant bloated on acquisition.
Scale has been a touchstone of competitive advantage.
To be middle-sized has been to be dull, fuzzy, a failing Old Maid kind of business.
And don't bother securitizing one mortgage. Wrap a bundle of them and find a better tomorrow.
Now all of this may be true. But I am starting to wonder.
In The Venturesome Economy, Professor Amar Bhidé of Columbia University takes x-ray specs to innovation:
For any new product, the underlying know-how ranges from the high-level general principles, to mid-level technologies, to ground-level context specific heuristics or rules of thumb.
Bhidé surveys a landscape of products that range
from high-level building blocks or raw materials (microprocessors or the silicon used to make them), to mid-level intermediate goods (the motherboards that contain the microprocessor in laptop computers), to ground-level final products (laptop computers).
It affirms the value of ideas, initiative and forces that operate at the mid-level - see my previous post on China - phenomena that act as an interface
between the high- and ground- levels in society, politics and culture.