Author / amandathai

by amandathai

Assignment 3 – Report

Name: Amanda Thai s3656343

 

I declare that in submitting all work for this assessment I have read, understood and agree to the content and expectations of the assessment declaration – https://www.rmit.edu.au/students/support-and-facilities/student-support/equitable-learning-services

 

Media Making Blog Posts

Week 9 Photo (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/18/week-9-photo-exit/)

Week 9 Video (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/18/week-9-video-now-arriving-at-narre-warren/)

Week 10 Photo (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/25/week-10-photo-lonely/)

Week 10 Video (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/25/week-10-video-the-door-that-makes-me-late-for-class/)

Week 11 Photo (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/10/02/week-11-photo-hidden/)

Week 11 Video (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/10/09/week-11-video-level-1/)

 

Title of Report: Post Pumpkin Gnocchi

Word Count: 1462

 

Post Pumpkin Gnocchi

I am at dinner at Eating House in Rowville with my high school friends. My pasta arrives, pumpkin gnocchi in one of those large black dishes somewhere between a plate and a bowl. It’s February 2018 and my friends have been encouraging me to get Instagram for years.

            My friends peer over my shoulder as I edit the photo, enhancing the orange colour of the pumpkin.

            ‘Oh, wow,’ they say, ‘that really brings out the pumpkin.’

            They give me the hashtag: #poppinpumpkin.

            I first used Instagram in 2012 and I thought it was a photo-editing app.

            Now I realise 2018 Instagram is a totally different world.

 

~

 

Vintage

It’s Christmas 2014 and my eldest cousin, Kat, hands me a Polaroid camera so I can take a photo of her in front the Christmas tree.

            ‘Stand closer than you think you need to,’ Kat instructs.

 

            It’s Week 9, Semester 2, and I’m using Instagram for the first time since the pumpkin gnocchi and I realise I can’t zoom in. I’m pinching the screen—as smartphones have taught me to—but the image isn’t enlarging.

            So there I am, in an empty media classroom, leaning over desk chairs and Macs trying to take an Instagram photo of a door.

 

            I look for a zoom ring on the Polaroid camera. There is none.

           

            The square format and vignettes were constraints of the Polaroid, limitations that the technology was striving to overcome. In 2018, we have this technology. I’m taking, viewing and distributing these photos and videos from the same device on which I call people.

 

            While we have this impromptu photoshoot, my older uncles and aunties discuss how impractical the Polaroid camera is, how we all have phones, why don’t we use them?

 

            Yet these constraints transcended and became ‘conventions…literally hard wired in camera designs’ (Manovich 2016, p.54). Instead of sports mode and portrait mode, Instagram has simply—vintage. Even in the digital age, we mimic physical qualities of a technology long obsolete , all the while we distribute these “vintage” photos across the globe in milliseconds.

 

            My younger cousin, Paris, wants a photo with me. After I see the Polaroid in her hand, with its natural vignette and classic white border, I ask to take another one for me.

 

            When I edit photos on my phone, I always, without fail, add a vignette or a lens blur—both potential flaws or limitations in the early days of photography.

            To this photo of a door, I intentionally blur two-thirds of the photo.

 

            That Polaroid photo is still stuck to a magnet board on my bedroom wall.

 

            We idealise a past we were never part of. It translates not only to the features of our favourite software, but our idea of what makes a perfect image.

 

~

 

Tactile

I’m down in Cape Paterson with my friends, Sam and Meg. Sam got a Polaroid camera for Christmas and we are walking back from the beach, instant photos pinched between our sandy fingers.

            We pass them around. There is only one copy of every photo.

 

            I’m writing my Week 10 blog post. My phone is open to my student Instagram account, this week’s photo on screen. In a browser tab, that same photo is open, just larger.

            There are potentially infinite copies of my photo.

 

            I’m at Stacks Pancake Bar in Karingal and Sam is back home from the Cook Islands.

            She passes me her iPhone—‘a miniature photo album…passed around the dinner table with friends’ (Palmer 2014, p.248).

 

            I’m on the train home from uni and I’ve just posted my Week 10 photo. Seconds after I uploaded it, my phone buzzes with a like from an old dancing friend.

            I passed my photo to her phone. She, and anyone else on my Instagram from their phone, holds a copy.

            Physical distribution—more instant than an instant camera, but just as tactile.

 

~

 

Artificial Spontaneous

I’m with Sam at the 2017 Melbourne Show and we just bought a massive fairy floss flower.

            ‘Let’s take photos of us eating it!’ she says.

 

            It’s Week 12, I’m late to posting my Week 11 video, and I’m standing at the back entrance of Building 9, waiting for the elevator. My finger is poised above the record button on the Instagram app.

 

            ‘Don’t look at me, look at the fairy floss,’ she says, ‘just eat normally.’

 

            Inside the elevator, I aim my iPhone camera at the open doors and lean over to press the ‘close doors’ button, careful not to disrupt my camera angle.

            I press down and film the doors closing.

 

            Instagram photography and videography is kind of like ballet.  Like ballet, Instagram demands effortlessness. It craves spontaneity and the slice of life yet it must be beautiful, aesthetically pleasing, polished.

 

            I press the ‘open doors’ button and the record button simultaneously. Then I stand there, alone in an unmoving elevator, trying to get the video posted.

            Someone calls the elevator up to the fourth floor. I’m stuck here.

            A teacher enters and looks mildly confused why I didn’t exit the elevator.

            I stand there awkwardly and exit with him on the ground floor.

 

            How do you achieve this paradox without preparation or planning? Like ballet, Instagram’s effortlessness is often the product of choreography and practice.

 

            I would love to say that I truly embraced the spontaneity afforded by Instagram, whipping out my phone to video any doors I passed.

            In reality, there was a lot of me seeing a door, seeing Henri Cartier-Bresson’s ‘perfect moment’, struggling to get my phone out of my bag, waiting impatiently for the app to load and, finally, watching that ‘perfect moment’ disappear before my still-loading Instagram app.

 

I’ve done ballet for thirteen years. Maybe it’ll be another twelve years before I master the artificial spontaneity.

            But by that point, Instagram will be something totally different.

 

~

 

Identifying

‘I’ll post it to my second account,’ Meg says as I show a photo of her attempting the splits.

 

            Instagram affords cross-posting to other platforms with just a flick of a switch. Yet as I linked up my Facebook and Twitter accounts, I realised a fatal flaw in this cross-platform distribution.

 

            I flick to a posed photo taken at the beach.

            ‘Ooh,’ she says, ‘I’ll put that on my main account.’

           

            My identities:

            Instagram—a disembodied project on doors. Facebook—me at school formals and friend catch-ups. Twitter—a book reviewer.

 

            I now I understand why many of my friends have a second account.

 

            The network is centralised (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/07/24/week-2-design-as-a-disease/). We spend all of our time there and hence, we—or our online personas (what’s the difference?)—become centralised too. You make a new online identity and you are making a new account on every single platform.

 

~

 

Thematic

Praise on my writing from workshopping sessions:

            ‘Your piece has a really strong sense of image.’

 

            It’s Week 10 and I’m archiving several impromptu Instagram posts from Week 9 because they didn’t match my theme.

            Goodbye, photo of pink dance studio door with clock and glowing exit sign. Goodbye, photo of brown wooden door with passive aggressive sign.

            It feels wasteful and restrictive. It feels sly.

 

            ‘The sense of colour is so vivid in your piece.’

 

            It’s Week 10 and we’re in class looking at the Instagram account @basebodybabes. I could scroll through their page forever, watching the colours shift.

            I now realise how much work is required to achieve that engagement. It’s not in the hashtags or the captions or the bio. The words don’t matter—it’s all about the visual.

 

            ‘I love the image of these coloured doors/the rain/your five-year-old self.’

 

            I am a writer with a strong sense of image, colour and metaphor. When I write creative nonfiction, I will often manipulate the framing of a piece to better suit an emotional or visual progression. I don’t feel sly reframing the truth in writing, in authoring a cohesive piece.

            Perhaps Instagrammers are writers too.

 

~

 

With Instagram and its affordances, photos and videos are authored, published and distributed in a way that is at times paradoxical and unique to the network-centric era in which we live in.

            Instagram photos and videos are vintage in appearance, with conventions that harken back to instant cameras’ constraints. Thanks to smartphones, they are tactile like Polaroids, yet can be infinitely duplicated. They encourage an effortless spontaneity only achievable through artifice and planning. It demands theme and consistency, not just from the content produced, but the person behind it.

 

            I’m getting dressed up to go play Dungeons & Dragons. I bought a new orange lipstick.

            Maybe I’ll author a photo for Instagram, enhance the orange on my lips.

            I can publish it with the hashtag: #poppinpumpkinlipstick.

            Seconds later—when Instagram distributes this photo to my friends—I’m sure they’ll be proud.

 

_______________________

 

References

Manovich, L 2016, Instagram and the Contemporary Image, University of San Diego.

Palmer, D 2014, “Mobile Media Photography”, The Routledge Companion to Mobile Media, pp.245-255.

by amandathai

Week 11 Video: “Level…1”

Previously on Amanda’s blog…

“Tune in tomorrow for my video post.”

Turns out “tomorrow” is code for “next week”.

How did you author the video you recorded for upload to Instagram?

This video was taken on and edited on the Instagram app on my iPhone 6S using the rear facing camera. The featured door of this video is the elevator near the back entrance of Building 9 at RMIT and I edited this video by removing the sound and adding a black and white filter, sticking with my video theme of ‘silent black and white videos of automated doors’ (catchy).

The story of how this video was authored is rather amusing.

I filmed a ‘first draft’ of this video in Week 10, during our tutorial’s allocated Instagram time. At first, I wanted to film opening the elevator doors from the outside, then closing them from the inside, using Instagram’s start-stop feature.

Unfortunately, that draft somehow disappeared from my Instagram’s draft section. And that’s why I couldn’t post the video last week because, in all the three days I was at uni, I forgot to film a second version of that video.

So come today, Week 12, and I have to film again. Having done a draft, this video feels much more staged and less spontaneous than any other Instagram post I’ve done.

I call the elevator, take my video, one hand on the phone, the other on the buttons, when suddenly, as I’m choosing a thumbnail in the closed, empty elevator, someone calls the lift up to Level 4.

So there I was just awkwardly riding the elevator up and down with a random teacher.

 

How did you publish the video you recorded for upload to Instagram?

The publishing process for this video was the rockiest it has ever been.

First, I accidentally filmed and posted this video to my personal Instagram instead of my student one (no big deal, I rarely use my personal one anyway). Thank god for the fact that Instagram saves a copy of your photos and videos to your phone because by the time I was posting the video, I was halfway down the Pakenham line, the elevator at RMIT far, far behind me.

Speaking of the Pakenham line, there are several dead spots of internet along that line, most notably between South Yarra – Caulfield and Dandenong – Hallam.

When I was publishing this video, I fell into one of these dead spots and hence, when I tried to correct my mistake, I was stuck with long loading screens, especially when trying to geotag.

It showed me something I had taken for granted:

Instagram is only as spontaneous as your internet is fast.

The internet itself, your access and your speed, is a constraint as well as an affordance.

Additionally, when I reposted this video to my student Instagram, I forgot to chnge the thumbnail so now it just looks like a black screen. (I don’t take a video for one week and suddenly I’m a noob.)

For my caption, I threw back to Week 9 and quoted the door itself, this time announcing “Level…1”. When I play D&D with my friends at Monash Uni, I always make fun of their elevator’s voice and the hilariously long pause between “first” and “floor.” Well, it looks like RMIT is in the same boat (unlike its revolving doors which are far inferior to Monash’s).

For my quirky hashtag, I referenced my lateness: #impostingfromthefutureitsnotactuallyweek11.

How did you distribute the video you published on Instagram to other social media services?

This answer has been pretty repetitive over the last five posts. However, today is a little different.

Because I was signed into the wrong account, when I tried to flick those handy little switches to cross post to Facebook and Twitter, it took me to the respective sites and asked me to sign in.

NBD, I thought. Maybe it just automatically signs you out every few weeks for security reasons.

I should’ve realised something was wrong.

I struggled with these external sites and bad internet for no reason, because soon enough, I was reposting the video on my correct account, where the switches worked just fine.

This brought to my attention the struggle of distributing across multiple platforms. I had to go to my Facebook and Twitter and delete the cross-posts because otherwise, I would’ve had two identical videos crossposted from separate Instagram accounts, which would’ve raised a couple of eyebrows.

However, after all that struggle setting up cross-posting on my personal account, I figured, why not actually post something for real on that account? (As opposed to these student posts as a door aficionado).

That’s when the centralisation of the network really hit me.

My Twitter account is largely connected to my Goodreads account. It has the same profile pic as my Goodreads account (a purple eye) and I used to use this Twitter account to follow authors, post links to my reviews and get writing advice.

My Facebook account is just a polished image of me, somewhere to send new acquaintances that want to contact me.

My personal Instagram has one photo of pasta and advertises myself as a Mercy main.

My student Instagram doesn’t even have my name, it has my student number, and bunch of doors.

 

I am not the same person on any of these platforms. I don’t want to be the same person across these platforms.

But that is the world we live and work in today.

If I want to create a new online identity, I don’t just go to a new platform – I make a new account on every single platform.

I think I finally get it. With a centralised internet, you can constantly surround your audience with a certain image of yourself, consistent across platforms. And when your life is the internet, whose to say this online self isn’t your real self? You keep to the canon you wrote for yourself. You maintain a character.

Consistent. Centralised. Constant.

by amandathai

Week 11 Photo: Hidden

View this post on Instagram

Hidden. #networkedmedia #rmit #doors #tbhimgladthisisnearlyover

A post shared by s3656343 (@no_metaphors_allowed) on

How did you author the photo you recorded for upload to Instagram?

I authored this photo using the rear-facing camera on my iPhone 6S, all within the Instagram app.

I found this door by wandering through the Old Melbourne Gaol, past the door from last week, and to the side of what I think is Building 13.

Following the theme I set for myself last week, I placed the door on the right of the photo. For colour editing, I chose green for the shadows to emphasise the plant on the left of the photo, and orange for the highlights to put some warmth into the white building. I used the Adjust feature to make sure the door was straight, added a quick vignette and then added a linear blur (which I think looks awesome with the plant in the foreground).

I still don’t think this photo lives up to my first photo, but I think it’s better than last week’s.

How did you publish the photo you recorded for Instagram?

My first instinct was to take a photo of this door with it right in the centre. However, I soon remembered my theme and retook it with the door on the right side of the frame. It actually worked out for the better because I was able to get the plant in the photo, which created a nice contrast to the white building.

My one-word caption for this week is ‘Hidden’ because I think the blurred foreground plant makes it look as though I had to sneak through a jungle to find this pristine white building. The caption also works because I don’t think this is a very well-known door. I don’t even know if it works or is just decorative. Every time I’ve been here, there’s been no one.

My usual hashtags were used once again, however my ‘thoughts’ hashtag was a little more negative than past weeks. Where Week 9 was the funny and artificially desperate #thisismysecondinstagramposteverplshelp, and Week 10 was the self-aware #amithematicyet, Week 11 is just my thoughts on uni in general: #tbhimgladthisisnearlyover.

How did you distribute the photo you published on Instagram to other social media services?

As always, during the captioning and tagging phase of creating this photo, I simply switched on the buttons to share the photo to my linked Facebook and Twitter accounts. Easy as pie.

Swiping those buttons made me remember something. The first time those switches appeared on my old iPod Touch, I was confused how to use them. In the beginning, I would simply tap each one. Then I would over swipe. Now, my thumb knows exact how to swipe each one.

In Seth’s summary post from this week, he talks about affordances and their hierarchy. Hardware affords certain actions. Take for example, a smartphone, which affords tapping, zooming, scrolling, etc. Software, working within the constraints of the hardware, has its own affordances – things like sharing photos, typing notes, recording video, etc. What I found interesting was that the physical affordances of the hardware are then used to create intangible affordances in the software, which map our interactions. Eventually, these interactions become ingrained in our physical bodies.

Using a mouse is second nature to me. When I first opened up Mediafactory in Week 1, it felt relatively intuitive and simple to use because it looked similar to the book review writing page on Goodreads, a platform I am very familiar with. Perhaps that subconsciously influenced me to write my first blog post about book reviews.

Outside this class…

My mum has an Instagram account, on which she posts her handmade cards. Recently, she’s gotten more into it and keeps asking me how to do things. I told her that she should use the Story feature, despite the fact I’ve never actually used it myself.

Just recently, her card was featured in a video on the stamp manufacturer’s Instagram account.

I find it funny that, after this class, I can tell her how to use Instagram, despite the fact I’ve barely used it myself.

On a serious note, I appreciate this class for the new perspectives it has given me on design and the internet that increasingly grows and surrounds us. I think it provided me valuable information on the network as a whole and a platform that I don’t use but one day, most likely will.

I would write a better conclusion, but it’s Week 11.

Tune in tomorrow for my video post.

by amandathai

Week 10 Photo: Lonely

How did you author the photo you recorded for upload to Instagram?

This photo was taken on and edited on the Instagram app on my iPhone 6S using its rear facing camera.

This door is just beyond the grand archway of the Old Melbourne Gaol, right near Building 13. In comparison to the archway, it looked so plain, but refreshingly simple

In today’s tutorial, Nash asked us to decide on a theme for our Instagrams. For mine, I have chosen not quite a theme, more of an aesthetic. My photos on my Instagram page will be of closed doors, placed on the right of the frame. I will use rather heavy handed colour editing and a linear blur to highlight the door. (See my video post for this week for my theme/aesthetic for the videos on my blog.)

The lighting was a little off for this photo, resulting in the very bright front step of the door. However, this allowed me to incorporate a lot of greenish-yellow into the photo using the ‘Colour’ feature and picking yellow for the highlights. Other edits I made included: choosing red for the shadows, straightening up the photo using the ‘Adjust’ feature, adding a vignette and that linear blur to emphasise the door.

I don’t think this photo is as visually appealing as last week’s, but I’ve already deleted a few photos in an attempt to adhere to my theme; I don’t feel like deleting another.

Manovich (2016) writes that ‘visual characteristics…are not carefully controlled, so from the point of view of proper good photography these are often (but not always) bad photos.‘ (Manovich 2016, p.52)

My mother picked up photography when she picked up scrapbooking (they kind of went hand in hand) and she always told me, don’t put your subject right in the middle, put them a little bit off to the side. Something about the rule of thirds. So maybe I am following some rules of ‘good photography’, but there is something certainly off about that lemon-lime coloured highlight on the step.

But, eh, I like colours. I need something to contrast my black and white silent videos.

In the reading, Manovich (2016) writes, ‘the content of casual photos is more important to their users than following the rules of good photography’ (Manovich 2016, p.52).

I totally agree.

I felt a little restricted by the instruction to decide upon a theme, but I understand that it’s required to carve out a niche and find an audience on Instagram. It’s a part of learning to use the platform and one day I might find a topic where theme, aesthetic and content all align beautifully.

But with content like doors and no metaphors allowed?

…I’m doing my best. (#amithematicyet)

How did you publish the photo you recorded for upload to Instagram?

Originally, I took photos of the large archway nearby to this door, then decided it was too extravagant for my quaint little Instagram page. So instead I stumbled upon this door. I took several photos of it, some with it centred, some with it pushed over to the right so I could see the edge of the window next to it. Seeing that photo, with the bright window peeking in from the left, echoing the orange clouds on the projector from last week, it helped me decide on the theme/aesthetic for my photos.

An interesting quote from Part 1 of this week’s reading: ‘The documentation function was integral to photography from its beginning in the 1830s, but Instagram intensifies it. Instagram interface shows the date and time for each photo and exact location’ (Manovich 2016, p.52)

I tagged this photo at the Old Melbourne Gaol because I think it’s rather cool I go to uni right next to such a historical site, despite the fact that I never go there to appreciate it. Maybe I should’ve geotagged my exact location, so that my small handful of viewers can find this ‘lonely’ door.

In terms of captions, I want my photos to all have one word title/captions. Last week’s was ‘Exit’, this week’s is ‘Lonely’. I like how they leave much unsaid and allow the viewer to draw their own interpretations.

Along with my usual slew of hashtags (one for the class, one for the uni, one for the content, and one for my thoughts), I added one for the Old Melbourne Gaol, to further emphasise the location.

How did you distribute the photo you published on Instagram to other social media services?

Having linked up my Facebook and Twitter accounts last week, it was easy to simply swipe the switches and cross-post to those platforms. However, I somehow managed to share this photo to Twitter and not to Facebook (something I didn’t realise until I sat down to write this post). It was easy to go back in to the Instagram app, find the photo and hit Share though. It took me back to the screen with the switches and it was like the mistake never happened.

______

References

Manovich, L 2016, Instagram and the Contemporary Image, University of San Diego.

by amandathai

Week 10 Video: The door that makes me late for class

How did you author the video you recorded for upload to Instagram?

This video was taken on and edited on the Instagram app on my iPhone 6S using the rear facing camera.

I felt a bit awkward taking this photo as I had to hang around this door as people walked through, lifting my phone in a not-at-all-subtle way. Originally I wanted to film the door itself, maybe me walking through and around the door, but because people were always near the door, I instead decided to film the button with the door revolving in the background, just so I could be done with it and get out of the way.

In Part 1 of the reading, Manovich (2016) discusses how digital cameras from the 2000s have settings like sport, macro, landscape, and even go as specific as fireworks and food. ‘The conventions are literally hard wired in camera designs’ (Manovich 2016, p.54).

In Instagram, the convention that has been hardwired is the vintage square format that hearkens back to Polaroids and other lo-fi photography. However, I don’t find this constraint all that constraining. The symmetry is satisfying and also, the small size helps cut out excess background mess and other unnecessary elements that might make their way into a rectangular photo.

Following my trend from last week, I decided to make this video black and white using I think the ‘Inkwell’ filter, mostly because I didn’t like how bright and blue the button was, as it drew attention away from the door itself (the real star of the show here).

One constraint of Instagram video is the fact that there are significantly less editing tools for video than there are for photo. I can’t do all my coloured shadows and highlights with a video. This contributed to my decision to make the theme for my Instagram videos all black and white. Additionally, I decided to officially adopt the accidental lack of sound from last week as when I accidentally posted this video with sound, I hated it so much, I deleted and reposted it as a silent video. Therefore, my theme for my Instagram videos is ‘silent black and white videos of automated doors.’

How did you publish the video you recorded for upload to Instagram?

Like last week’s video, all my ideas went out the window when it came time to actually taking it, and hence I simply took a video and posted it, without taking any alternatives.

One interesting thing I took from the reading was how the rules of originality are inverted when it comes to Instagram. Instead of trying to capture what has never been captured before, Manovich writes, ‘If you [sic] image looks like many images you have seen before, capture it’ (Manovich 2016, p.52).

This is evident through Instagrams hashtags. People want to see multiples of one sometimes very specific thing. People want to see differing perspectives and opinions on something they already know exists. It stems, I believe, from the realisation that photography isn’t objective, that there is more to gain from viewing photos as individuals POVs instead of omniscient all-seeing eyes. I like it. I think it opens more avenues for people’s individual opinions to be heard.

In class today, we spoke of how people don’t always automatically go to Google when they need to search for something. People are pre-filtering their searches. They go to Instagram for photos, Twitter for debates and opinions, YouTube for videos. I personally go to Reddit whenever I want real-life authentic opinions from people, because I find they are (or at least feel) more honest than what I find through a Google search, which is often inundated with companies and brands, whose ulterior motives appear to skew the candour of their content.

Phew, what a tangent. Back to hashtags: I have been spending a lot of time at Monash Uni in Clayton recently, playing board games and DnD with my friend who goes there. Hence, my quirky rambly hashtag is #monashunihasbetterrevolvingdoorsyepisaidit. I enjoy the lack of spaces. It makes it sound as if I said it all in a rush, like a confession.

How did you distribute the video you published on Instagram to other social media services?

Having linked up my Facebook and Twitter accounts last week, I just swiped the switches on the same screen where I added caption and location, and off it went. I didn’t even know how the cross-platform posts worked until I went to the respective platforms.

They look nice on Facebook, but on Twitter, it’s just my caption followed by a link. Without the visual, it’s remarkably less interesting.

______

References

Manovich, L 2016, Instagram and the Contemporary Image, University of San Diego.

by amandathai

Week 9 Video: “Now arriving at–Narre Warren.”

How did you author (the photo or video) you recorded for upload to Instagram?

I authored this photo on my iPhone 6S’s rear-facing camera and the camera function built into the Instagram app. This video was taken on my train ride home. Throughout the train ride, I was brainstorming ideas for my video, my photo having already been completed. Originally I intended to get out of my seat well before my stop (Berwick) and film the train doors opening. Then, using the start-stop feature, I planned to stop the video, step outside onto the platform, then film the doors closing, all from a very neutral angle with the doors flat and centre.

It didn’t work out that way. I realised how illogical it would be to try and line up a photo at one of the busiest stops and also get off the train before the doors closed. So instead, at the stop before mine (Narre Warren), I simply twisted around in my seat, leaned backwards to avoid getting the lady next to me in the shot, and simply filmed the train doors as they closed. No stop-start. Just me taking a spontaneous video.

I was quite disappointed with the lack of editing features available for video. I applied a black and white filter (‘Moon’ I believe), and set it to 80 strength, so it was almost black and white but not quite.

Rather boringly, I used the ‘Cover’ feature but selected the first frame as my thumbnail.

If you watch the video at the link above, you’ll notice the audio is muted.

That was unintentional. I wanted to record the audio, the loud beeping of the train doors as they closed, yet in my exploratory button-pressing during editing, I must’ve accidentally muted it. I mean, I guess it kind of works with the black and white filter?

The biggest differences in authoring this video, compared to just taking a photo on the iPhone Camera app was the fact I had to hold down the button to take a video, similar to Snapchat. The start-stop feature looked incredibly intriguing so I will figure out a way to incorporate it into future posts.

 

How did you publish (the photo or video) you recorded for upload to Instagram?

Though I had ideas in mind prior to authoring this video, I ended up taking only one video and posting it straight away. As I mentioned in my photography post, I wanted to get the experience Instagram and the network affords: taking a photo on the go and posting it almost instantaneously.

Simone Bramante geotagged his photos in Week 7, so I decided to geotag this too. I’m mildly annoyed by the fact ‘railway station’ isn’t capitalised.

Like for my photo, I wanted my captions to be short but quirky. In my caption, I put what I consider to be the title of this work: “Now arriving at–Narre Warren.” Why did I choose this? I feel like it’s a relatable line and it prefaces the video as often you’ll hear this phrase well before the train stops and the doors open. Like with my photo, I added hashtags for the course name, uni, subject matter and then one silly one detailing my thoughts. I want to continue this trend through all my photos and videos, always with one rambly hashtag. A hashtag is intended to be a tag, something short and universal, but I thoroughly enjoy subverting that, as many others have done, with lengthy, lengthy hashtags.

 

How did you distribute (the photo or video) you published on Instagram to other social media services?

From Instagram, I shared this photo to my personal Facebook with a very brief comment: “A video for that same uni class.” Since I already posted my photo to Facebook explaining the sudden influx of Instagram shares, I opted for a short succinct post.

For my second social media service, I posted to my book-related long-forgotten Twitter. I tweeted: “My Week 9 Instagram video for a uni class. instagram.com/p/Bn3Fon9gou5/…” It was only now, after I posted both my photo and video to Twitter, that I realised Twitter didn’t display a preview of the photo/video like I assumed it would.

So now I just have two super boring tweets with links. I also can’t find the button to edit my tweets and it’s nearly midnight so before I turn into a pumpkin I better go write my two blog posts for another class.

These posts (both here and on Instagram) will get better, I promise.

by amandathai

Week 9 Photo: Exit

 

But before we launch into questions…

The FAQ no one asked for:

Why the handle @no_metaphors_allowed?

Because Nash emphasised–very strongly–that our photos and videos should be of actual doors, not metaphorical ones.

What is that profile picture?

It’s a photo of my old phone with a picture of a door on it. I wanted something that would capture both the topic of doors and the study of mobile photography/videography and the network.

What’s your bio?

 

How did you author (the photo or video) you recorded for upload to Instagram?

I authored this photo on my iPhone 6S’s rear-facing camera and the camera function built into the Instagram app. This photo was taken a few minutes after the end of my Week 9 tutorial, after everyone had left the room. It was the first door I saw after Nash announced the theme (and also banned metaphorical doors).

As an Instagram noob, I first tried to zoom in by pinching my fingers which I soon found out wasn’t a thing on Instagram. So instead, I physically manoeuvred my body around this computer pod table and leaned forward so as not to get the tops of the computer screens in my shot. This wasn’t unusual for me as I’ve taken photos on my mum’s DSLR with a fixed lens. It felt much like that, which gave it an air of professionalism, despite the fact I was just using my phone.

This being only my second Instagram post ever, I experimented liberally with the editing functions available. I won’t list them all out but the most notable edits I made were: selecting the ‘Gingham’ filter, using the ‘Colour’ function to turn the shadows purple and the highlights yellow (to better emphasise the orange clouds on the screen beside the door), and adding a linear ‘Tilt Shift’ to blur everything except the door. Though I may not use Instagram, I do love editing photos. My mum was a photographer for a period of my life and she got me into Photoshop and then years later, photo-editing apps. Even though I don’t often post my photos, I thoroughly enjoy picking out the best ones from a day out or a selfie session and trying out different editing features. The app I usually use is Snapseed and though Instagram’s controls were a lot less intuitive, the functions were familiar.

The biggest differences in authoring this photo, compared to other smartphone photos was the inability to zoom and the inability to take more than one photo and sift between them before editing. Immediately after taking the photo, you are taken to the editing screen. These two elements combined felt strangely archaic and almost reminded me of the feeling of taking a Polaroid–having to physically move your body to get the right zoom, and being forced to take one shot at a time.

(Now, several hours later, I have done some more experimentation and discovered that Instagram has a ‘Drafts’ feature, oops.

…2 minutes later I also discovered it has a ‘Select Multiple’ feature that lets you post multiple images in one post. Oops.

I’m still learning.)

 

How did you publish (the photo or video) you recorded for upload to Instagram?

I only took one photo before the one I eventually settled on posting. In the first one, my composition felt off and I was getting the tops of computer screens in the shot. The second time, I lined it up better. I also posted the photo literally minutes after the tutorial so I didn’t even wait to see if better doors would strike me throughout the week. Instagram’s design is about ‘seeing and taking photos on-the-go’ (Systrom, quoted in Manovich 2016, p.12) and that’s what I wanted to harness in this Instagram experimentation. Instagram affords this incredibly quick process of seeing something cool, whipping out a phone, taking just one shot, and posting it within minutes, and that’s what I wanted to experience in creating this photo.

After seeing Simone Bramante geotag his photos in Week 7, I decided to geotag mine at RMIT. I added it in after publishing it because I didn’t know where to find the feature at first.

For my captions, I decided to keep them short and condensed, but also a little quirky. The part of the caption not in hashtags is intended to be the title of my photo work, ‘Exit’. For hashtags, I chose to keep them minimal, tagging only the course name, uni, subject matter and then one silly one detailing my thoughts. I liked the way I couldn’t use spaces as it helped convey a kind of stream of consciousness in a very short space.

 

How did you distribute (the photo or video) you published on Instagram to other social media services?

From Instagram, I shared this photo to my personal Facebook with the explanation: “One of my uni subjects requires me to make Instagram posts and also distribute them across other platforms so here’s the first one.” I found the sharing process from Instagram to Facebook very smooth (so well integrated that immediately after posting, Instagram wanted me to link up my Facebook).

For my second social media service, I dug up my old dusty Twitter account that I used mostly to stalk my favourite authors. I tweeted simply: “My Week 9 Instagram photo for a uni class. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bn2-y8en6wM/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet”. Again, the process was smooth, facilitated by Instagram’s easy sharing features.

I elected to not use hashtags here because, on these platforms, I am not the kind of person to use them, so I thought it would seem out of character. Funnily enough, many of my Facebook photos feature the same rigorous editing I used on this Instagram photo, but on Twitter, my identity there is more linked to my Goodreads account, where my profile photo is not of my face but of a purple eye.

But on this shiny new student Instagram account, I am a fresh slate.

I think I will enjoy these Instagram experiments.

______

References

Manovich, L 2016, Instagram and the Contemporary Image, University of San Diego.

by amandathai

Assignment 2 – Review

Name: Amanda Thai s3656343

I declare that in submitting all work for this assessment I have read, understood and agree to the content and expectations of the assessment declaration – https://www.rmit.edu.au/students/support-and-facilities/student-support/equitable-learning-services

Blog Posts

Week 5 (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/08/15/week-5-jerry-uelsmanns-untitled/)

Week 6 (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/08/22/week-6-the-hills-are-alive/)

Week 7 (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/05/week-7-intimacy-and-instagram/)

Week 8 (http://www.mediafactory.org.au/amanda-thai/2018/09/11/week-8-online-video-and-being-human/)

Review

Word Count: 1065

1. Provide your own definition (in your own words) on ‘photography’ in relation to legacy and online media, by referring to the readings, additional research and the practice analyses completed in your blog.

Photography can be defined as a visual medium that involves the active capture of instants in time and space and preserving them in still images. If life is like a mediation, a photo is the ‘active practice of cutting through the flow of mediation’ (Zylinska 2016, p.13). Ubiquitous both in art and social media (Wells 2015), the image has become an integral communicative device of our culture, one that has evolved through advances in technology. In the age of legacy media, photography was elite and exclusive, open only to those with the training, resources and money to support such a new and experimental medium, one that required bulky equipment and a specialised darkroom for developing. In legacy photography, especially in journalism, the photo had an ‘assumed power of accurate, dispassionate recording’ (Wells 2015, p.14) and was almost omnipotent in how it could capture ‘information beyond that which concerned the photographer’ (Wells 2015, p.17). Plenty stock was placed in its objectivity and impartiality. In the age of online media however, after the disillusionment of modernism, photography also considers the source, purpose and circumstances of a photo, rather than viewing it as representative of absolute truth (Wells 2015). Online photography is democratic (Wells 2015), available to more than just the wealthy. When absolute truth is disregarded, photography allows the world to be viewed from alternate perspectives (Wells 2015).

2. Provide your own definition (in your own words) on ‘video practice’ in relation to legacy and online media, by referring to the readings, additional research and the practice analyses completed in your blog.

Video practice can be defined similar to photography as a medium that captures audio-visual data in a moving image, accompanied by sound. In the era of legacy video practice, film and television were the dominant forms of video, ‘a centralised, one-to-many broadcast medium’ (Sherman 2008, p.161). However, the advent of Sony’s portable video cameras allowed artists and social activists to use video practice as a way to circumvent and challenge the commercialised central narratives and instead allow a wider scope of representation (Horsfield 2006). Legacy video practice was valued for its ‘straight-from-the-scene authenticity’ (Horsfield 2006, p.3), in opposition to the government and corporate controlled television of the time. Still, it was considered ‘alternative media, using television-based technology to record images of their own choosing’ (Horsfield 2006, p.2). However, video practice evolved along with, or perhaps in demand of, new technologies. With smartphones and their ability to record, display and distribute video effortlessly and at no cost, video has become ‘the vernacular form of the era – it is the common and everyday way that people communicate’ (Sherman 2008, p.161). It functions almost like a new visual language as sometimes entire online conversations can be had using only short video clips like GIFs. Video practice has grown to encompass a culture of participation, from the pre-YouTube videoblogging to modern Instagram and Snapchat stories. Interestingly enough, where video practice once rebelled against the corporate and commercial, now, as it becomes more ingrained in our culture, we are witnessing ‘a shift in digital video consumption from amateur to professional, often corporate sponsored, content’ (Berry 2018, p.9), evident in the sponsorship of popular Instagrammers.

3. What differences and similarities did you discover between the way legacy and online photos are authored, published and distributed?

Legacy photography was often authored with extreme care and concern, as film was expensive and the amount of shots available were limited. It was an art reserved for the rich and technologically savvy. Post production editing, like that done by Jerry Uelsmann, was also time-consuming and difficult. In online photography, ‘we take for granted the seemingly unlimited storage aspects for photo and video’ (Berry 2018, p.8) and hence the authoring of online photos requires less care in the actual act of capturing. Even so, the idea of capturing a snapshot of life continues to prevail. Unlike legacy photography, the ubiquity of smartphones and their attached cameras lowers the entry barrier for online photography, allowing a wider variety of authors. In both types, the authoring process is in some way affected by commercial potential, either in a future gallery or Instagram sponsorship.

The avenues for publication of online photography are much wider and more abundant than they were during legacy photography. Legacy photos were often displayed in print, either in books or galleries. Online photos can be published on the very same device that took them through a multitude of apps and platforms.

In terms of distribution, online photography dissolves any delay between them. People can be notified the instant a photo is posted and they can immediately hold a digital copy on their iPhones, as opposed to legacy photos, displayed in galleries that people have to physically transport themselves to.

Though there are many differences between legacy and online photos, one similarity is their intimacy and tactility. Where legacy photography had physical prints and photo albums, the iPhone, with its touchscreen display has reinvented this tactility and has become ‘a miniature photo album that can be passed around the dinner table with friends’ (Palmer 2014, p.248).

4. What differences and similarities did you discover between the way legacy and online videos are authored, published and distributed?

Authoring legacy video required a huge amount of equipment and expertise, elevating the entry barriers significantly. With smartphones, nearly everyone can author online video. However, where legacy video was mostly concerned with subverting the commercial and corporate, now, online video has become a major avenue for sponsorship and native advertising. Both types provide a method for challenging the dominant cultural canons (Horsfield 2006). In terms of editing, where legacy video required designated equipment and often the help of a specialist, the smartphone and its apps afford editing on the same device that took the video.

Like legacy photography, legacy video was often treated like art and hence it was often published through galleries in the form of exhibitions. In online video, because the camera and communication device are combined, videos can be published immediately after being taken and to a variety of platforms.

Legacy video’s gallery exhibitions were often limited to a few months, much like art, and required a viewer to physically transport themselves to a designated place of viewing, or, in the case of films, own a physical copy on bulky VHS or DVD. In online video, distribution is instantaneous and people can view a copy of the video with only a smartphone. Also, due to the vast storage space available today, online videos published can stay on platforms of distribution for years to come, allowing people to discover it years after publication. However, both legacy and online video ‘depend entirely on physical technology both during production, distribution and consumption’ (Berry 2018, p.19). Legacy video required rolls of film, projectors, and galleries but even online videos require hard drives and smartphones.

_______________

References

Horsfield, K 2006, Busting the Tube: A Brief History of Video Art, Video Data Bank, School of Art Institute of Chicago.

Palmer, D 2014, “Mobile Media Photography”, The Routledge Companion to Mobile Media, pp.245-255.

Sherman, T 2008, “Vernacular Video”, Video Vortex Reader: Responses to YouTube, Institute of Network Cultures, Amsterdam, pp.161-168.

Wells, L 2015, Photography: A Critical Introduction, 5th ed, Routledge, New York.

Zylinska, J 2016, ‘Photomediations: An Introduction by Joanna Zylinska’, Photomediations: A Reader, Open Humanities Press, http://www.openhumanitiespress.org/books/titles/photomediations/.

by amandathai

Week 8: Online Video and Being Human

Like last week, I had to go out and find this Instagram videographer. Once again, back to the listicles. This practitioner was number 4 on a list of ‘5 Video Artists to Follow on Instagram’.

The video I have chosen to analyse is this:

Source

Why did I choose this video? It had a simple aesthetic and theme, however the production looked intricate, almost magical. I found its message, ‘let your light shine’, sweet and uplifting.

Who is the practitioner (what is their name?) and when were they practicing?

This Instagram animator and illustrator is named Rachel Ryle and she has been active since 2014. The video can be found at the link above.

With the photo or video you are examining, when was it produced (date)?

Rachel Ryle posted this video to her Instagram account @rachelryle on the 15th of June 2016, but due to the time and work required for a stop motion video, production probably began days or weeks prior to publication. (That alliteration!)

How was the photo or video authored?

Rachel Ryle created this stop motion video by drawing on physical paper and capturing it frame by frame from a top-down angle. She has used cutouts of illustrations like the projector and projector screen to make her illustrations move across the white background and she has also utilised small lights to illuminate the light bulb and projector.

The video has been captured in the square format popularised by Instagram and in the top left corner is her website URL, presumably added in during post-production.

The caption of this video is emotional and personal, speaking of the Orlando shootings that occured around the time of posting and also of Ryle’s own fear of her first Father’s Day without her father.

What I find most interesting about the authoring of this video is that really, it’s just a bunch of photos, but put one after another, they create a time sequence, a video. It’s photos becoming video. Additionally, it uses stop motion, a very old method of animation, yet it was published on Instagram, the epitome of modern online video.

How was the photo or video published?

This video was published on Rachel Ryle’s Instagram (@rachelryle) on the 15th of June 2016. It was also posted to Rachel Ryle’s YouTube account on the same day, with the title ‘Let It Shine! – Stop Motion Animation by Rachel Ryle’. Additionally, the YouTube video was embed in a post on Rachel Ryle’s website. As she also has a Facebook and Twitter account, I presume she posted the video (or links to other publications of the video) on those platforms too.

In this article about Rachel Ryle on Tech.Co, I discovered that she has a background in marketing and partnering with brands, one that she combined with her art and Instagram’s then-new video affordances to create beautiful and viral online videos. As the ‘internet continues to move in a more commercial direction’ (Berry 2018, p.9), it was this background that allowed Ryle to be an Instagram illustrator and animator full-time.

How was the photo or video distributed?

Because of the variety of platforms Ryle posted her video on, it would’ve reached a wide audience almost instantaneously. As I mentioned in last week’s post, thanks to smartphones, people can literally hold a copy of this video the second it is published. Online media makes publishing and distributing almost one and the same.

Often ‘we take for granted the delivery of different media forms streaming seamlessly across the web, just as much as we take for granted the seemingly unlimited storage aspects for photo and video’ (Berry 2018, p.8). Over two years after publication, I easily found Ryle’s video, on Instagram, YouTube, and her website. With the affordances of the internet, not only can people access content immediately after it is published, they can also continue to access it for years to come.

 

For my final thought: In this week’s reading, Berry (2018) writes that ‘videoblogs depend entirely on physical technology both during production, distribution and consumption’ (Berry 2018, p.19). And that’s the case for this video too. This video was produced frame by frame, with drawings done on old school pen and paper. Though the video file itself may be intangible, just a bunch of numbers, those numbers have to be stored on a hard drive. I have no idea how hard drives work. Maybe Rachel Ryle has no idea how hard drives work either. But regardless, we depend on its ‘materiality, and it’s [sic] stability, for [our] work’ (Berry 2018, p.19). Not only is the video stored on physical devices, it is also distributed and consumed on them.

I think it’s remarkably interesting that despite the growing intangibility of our data, stored in a cloud, our relationships, suspended in text bubbles, and our identities, defined by pages on various websites, we keep returning to the physical plane, the space where our bodies exist and play and interact.

It’s so very human and I think it’s lovely.

____________

References:

Berry, T 2018, ‘Situating Videoblogging’, Videoblogging Before YouTube, Institute of Network Cultures.

by amandathai

Week 7: Intimacy and Instagram

To be honest, I had to go out and find this photographer. As you know, I barely use my Instagram, so I had to ask Google for lists of ’15 inspiring photographers to follow on Instagram’.

I stopped at the first photographer on the list. When the article noted that ‘he describes himself as a storyteller first and a photographer second’ I was intrigued.

The photo I have chosen to analyse is this:

Source

Simone Bramante has so many stunning photos I had trouble deciding but I eventually settled on this for its warm simple colours and the way the girl’s skirt flows out behind her.

Who is the practitioner (what is their name?) and when were they practising?

The photographer I have chosen is Simone Bramante, an Italian Instagram photographer with the username @brahmino. He has been a photographer for over 15 years and is currently practising on Instagram.

This photo itself has no title but it is a part of a collection or ‘story’ of photos titled White Labyrinth. 

With the photo or video you are examining, when was it produced (date)?

The photo was uploaded to Instagram on the 27th of March 2017. It can be found at the link above.

How was the photo or video authored?

With the iPhone’s increasingly improving cameras and the virality of Instagram, the entry barriers of authoring, publishing and distributing photos are much lower than they were than in the legacy photography age.

Simone Bramante was invited by Carpisa, a bag company, to travel to Matera, Italy for 48 hours.

The photo was presumably taken with an iPhone, maybe with the additional of clamps and a tripod. The girl posing in the photo is a local photographer named Enza.

Unlike film photography, where the amount of photos you could take was limited by the film, digital photography allows you to take as many photos as your phone and cloud storage allows. This photo may have been just one of dozens, perhaps even a burst, from which he selected this one photo, where her skirt fluttered at just the right height.

One interesting element afforded by Instagram and the ease of photo-sharing is the commercial aspect. ‘Photographs attract eyeballs and, where there are eyeballs there lies the possibility to make money’ (Palmer 2014, p.249). Bramante, a photographer, an artist, was hired by Carpisa, a company, to promote their name. Yet, there are no bags in this photo. This isn’t like the product placement in films. The decision behind this promotion is not as straightforward. Bramante was hired to advertise the location of Matera, Italy and by extension, advertise the idea of travelling, and by linking Carpisa in his caption, hopefully infect his 900k+ followers with the travel bug, influence them to travel to exotic places like Matera, and buy some Carpisa bags to help them out.

What a strange world we live in.

How was the photo or video published?

This photo was published to Instagram on the 27th of March 2017. The photo is also geotagged at Matera, Italy. As Palmer (2014) writes, ‘geo-location metadata is commercially valuable’. People searching for Matera, Italy, maybe as a potential holiday destination, might have seen this photo and tagged potential holiday buddies.

In his caption, he added the name of the photo collection, White Labyrinth, as well as a simple, very human musing, the kind that could be found on anyone’s daily Instagram. This is advertising even more ingrained than sponsored posts that work their way seamlessly into feeds. This is advertising within a regular Instagram account, one that earned your follows and likes honestly, through their content.

Perhaps this is why people tend to react negatively to independent creators accepting sponsorships. There is an intimacy in knowing that there is a single or small team of people behind that one account. It is furthered by the casualness and widespread of iPhone photography. It creates a commonality between creator and consumer. It makes them feel like one and the same. There’s a humanness, and perhaps many feel this humanness, this small scale, is disrupted when a creator takes on sponsorship. They’re no longer a human, they are the extension of a company’s values and desires.

How was the photo or video distributed?

Because of Instagram, the publication and distribution of this photo would’ve been instantaneous. People carry their smartphones with them all the time, meaning they would technically be able to hold a copy of this photo in their hands the second it was uploaded.

Smartphones afford a tactility to online photography that is perhaps lost in viewing the photo on a laptop. Palmer (2014) describes the iPhone as ‘a miniature photo album that can be passed around the dinner table with friends’ (Palmer 2014, p.248). ‘The mobile phone,’ he writes, ‘…introduces a previously missing visual intimacy to screen culture’ (Palmer 2014, p.248). In that tactility, in the fact it fits into the palm of the hand (much like a Polaroid or printed 4×6 photo) there is that intimacy, but also a callback to an older medium, much like I discussed last week. We didn’t need to make touch screens. We didn’t need to turn our digital photos back into physical. But we did because of that nostalgia factor.

_____________

References

Palmer, D 2014, “Mobile Media Photography”, The Routledge Companion to Mobile Media, pp.245-255.