Success rating: better than last time.

This time we weren’t attempting to revive dead technology, so the end result was much more sleek.

In creating this playlist project, we focused on 1. collaboration and 2. non-linearity.

Given YouTube is a platform built around non-linearity — you can bounce from a video of a musician being interviewed to the deepest of conspiracy theories in a single click (suggested video functionality, based on search history, etc.) — we wanted to create some semblance of linearity/clarity in amongst the mess. Inviting anyone in the world with a touch of media skills to contribute, we set out a handful of basic rules that incentivise people to become a link in the chain. This of course ties into the process of collaboration: we have created the means, and we are giving the media creators of the world the ends.

In short, we learned that although these online platforms are becoming more dense and advanced, they still have their shortcomings. The editing suite in YouTube that we invited our collaborators to use to play their part in the media making has its limitations. We chose an audio file from the free array of music in its database that was accessible to all to increase the likelihood of people collaborating: the easier something is to access, the more likely people will respond to it (this is why Facebook videos by default are on autoplay; in turn, Facebook’s algorithm was altered to prioritise videos. Nobody opens your YouTube links anymore, but if you share a Facebook video you’re almost guaranteed some engagement. We are simple and / or lazy beings).

We originally planned to focus exclusively on mobile footage as this was the most accessible. We’ve all got smartphones, etc. Of course, we had a major oversight in that we were designing this playlist on a computer, where YouTube’s functionality is in full: editing suite provided. In asking people to upload straight from mobile, we forgot that this suite isn’t available on the mobile app. Therefore, we buffed our description to “media creators”; media makers, those with a basic competence when it came to moving files from device to device (you’d be surprised!).

Incentive also proves tumultuous. In our highly digital days, we find less and less time to step outside the comfort zones of our typical social media routines. Someone who exclusively uses a certain handful of apps every day amongst a busy schedule isn’t necessarily going to contribute (please do). Even then, if you find yourself an avid YouTube user, discovering or finding the means to contribute to this project isn’t exactly easy. Contribution to random, small scale projects like these is very much a niche practice. Finding an audience in the mesh of ideas and links and large scale social networking sites is a million times the problem. You need a platform to rally, and people to comply. Large scale collaboration is difficult.

Within the project, we attempted to create non-linearity in the linearity. The linearity comes from our efforts to curate some of the messiness that is intrinsic to YouTube. Given the content of the project (the vagueness in what’s being asked from a contributor’s video), non-linearity is inherent in the making. The playlist has a shuffle function which can be used to enhance this non-linearity (going against a predetermined arrangement of videos). Hopefully, over time, we can see some contribution to the project. The theory is there; execution is another part entirely.

For next time: how do incentivise collaboration; how can we get people to interact, contribute? What limits does the YouTube playlist functionality have? What other platforms have untraveled functions that we can explore?

What gives us inspiration? 

Calling all media creators!

Music is a key inspiration to a lot of creators and this project looks to explore this idea. We want to explore how creators respond when given the exact same piece of music, and what our own experiences bring to our media creation.

This is a collaborative project, where YOU can add any video you want that will be strung together to create a cohesive sequence of videos, as long as you abide by a few simple rules:

1. The video MUST be 20 seconds long
2. It MUST be shot landscape
3. It can be shot on ANYTHING, be it phone, camcorder, DSLR, drone, etc.
4. These videos must be attached to the audio file “Fortress Europe” by Dan Bodan, which can be found within the YouTube video manager, under edit – audio, where you search the track in the right-hand search-bar.

Here is the collaborative link to join this playlist.

With YouTube playlists on our mind, we decided to focus on automation. In playlist settings, we found a section called “Auto add” which we (wrongly) assumed would create a rule simply by entering a keyword (“Title contains: …”, or “Tag”) and then instantaneously filter videos that fit this description into our playlist.

Why we ever thought this would work is up for debate (these new media rooms sure can get hot) as the sheer amount of videos that would eventuate in our playlist would be chaotic. Alas, automation had gone straight out the window. What it actually meant was that videos you uploaded yourself would get filtered into a playlist, which would lend its use to say, an artist uploading their album song by song onto YouTube.

Instead, we turned to the “Collaborate” tab.

What would we do with this? We were still set on creating a playlist of some kind, and inviting collaborators to contribute to the fun. Ideas were pitched – telling a story by creating a cutout paper character, making his cutout accessible to others, and then inviting them to finish a story that we began? A variant of the Viewfinders project that Hannah showed us earlier in the week? Something entirely different? Our project had turned out wonky, and it seemed like we were back to the same square one we always seemed to be at. But, we had the backing of a bunch of fresh info on new media that kept us afloat.

I chose this studio because of its similarities to another studio I did this time last year: Ecologies of Noticing. Our work in this class has mirrored my work in that class insofar as responding to new media concepts, a whole lot of stuff about networks and new ways of thinking about things. Our main assignment was an ongoing collaboration with German students where we created something (short piece of video, short piece of audio) that was then sent to Germany (thanks, internet). In turn, we received something that they made and had to respond to it (with another short piece of video and audio). What resulted was a chain of collaboration, wild, kaleidoscopic pieces of media that attempted to interrogate certain ideas about anthropocentrism (or the rejection of).

Here, YouTube proved an able platform to recreate something in this vein. Their playlist functionality allows for more open collaboration than the work we did in Ecologies (Google Drive is hell). We took what we found interesting about Viewfinders and transposed pieces of it here. We wanted to explore the amateur and unregulated nature of YouTube’s platform in a collaborative setting by attempting a video chain that responds to a certain piece of audio. And this is what we got (so far).

In week 4’s reading, Manovich describes five principles of new media (the overlap between this and Histories of Film Theory is too much; What’s the deal with Russian theorists with their five step theories? Ok, to be fair, Manovich does investigate Vertov’s Man With A Movie Camera at the start of his book).

We’ve got:

1. Numerical representation

This is the idea that “all new media objects … are composed of digital code”. Computers operate through binary code and through the rise of computing and digitisation, all new media — either created directly on a computer or converted from analog media sources — is now composed of digital code. Media loses its physical form, but gains an exponential amount. That’s the way of the internet, baby.

2. Modularity

Modularity informs the way that media elements — such as images or sounds — are made up of smaller parts — such as pixels or voxels — and can be assembled into larger parts without compromising their independence.

A great example of this is a video editing suite, such as Premiere. You can load your individual files — video, audio, image — into the program, and arrange them into a larger sequence. At the same time, these files are being stored remotely, and can be accessed or edited independent of Premiere. This is modularity. It allows separate pieces of media to function both together and separately at the same time.

3. Automation

The first two principles (“the numerical coding” and “modular structure”) allow for Automation. This involves our machines operating automatically, applying certain functions to media, and is effectively a way of removing human intentionality from the media creating process. We’re talking filters, scripts, all things unregulated by human action. This is the good stuff.

4.  Variability

This also bases itself on the first two principles. Manovich says: “a new media object is not something fixed once and for all, but something that can exist in different, potentially infinite versions.” Media is no longer treated as a ‘whole’ and its fragmented pieces are just as important. This is what the internet returns to us — our suggestion pages, personalisation, customisation. This is what defines our own personal experience with new media.

5. Transcoding

“To “transcode” something is to translate it into another format”, says Manovich. Transcoding allows for portability — working across different platforms with the same pieces of media, a contemporary media workflow. Three separate .mov files and be made into a single .mp4 file, for example.

This is, of course, a surface level explanation, but these are key pointers in which we base our online screen media projects around; tech jargon just tends to be a little confusing.

With these concepts ringing around our brains after Monday’s class, Darcy and I set our focus on automation. Playlists came to our attention — playlists of music on Spotify, video on YouTube — and we thought about these things in relation to automation. We soon found ourselves in YouTube’s playlist feature and discovered that you can collaboratively work on playlists just by sharing a link. So, our next chapter begins.

Ok, so this was just before we thought Manovich had the key.

Then, Darcy debriefed me. Then, he suggested a few ideas.

Attempting to interrogate the multifaceted nature of the web (our then chosen follow up characteristic), he suggested that we build a website. A website that could be embedded with a 4×4 panel of videos (possibly embedded via YouTube, that each play at the same time. These videos would all have been of the same object / event / subject, possibly static, possibly moving. Before Manovich gave us the idea of modularity (media elements – images, sounds, etc. – are made up of smaller parts – pixels, voxels, etc. – and can be arranged/assembled in larger parts without compromising their independence), we had already dabbled in it.

After missing last week’s class from which most of this development arose, I was left to my own devices to find inspiration. When Darcy mentioned these 4×4 videos, my mind ticked back to a short someone I followed on Letterboxd had made a few years previous.

gas_n_go032416 from Aaron Salazar on Vimeo.

Ok mate, privacy settings this (just click the link above).

Darcy drafted a few 4×4 videos in Premiere, and they looked great (and may be useful later in the semester). What if we gave the viewer the opportunity to pause? What if, with a click, you could scroll through different angles? Narrative or non-fiction: could we blur the lines? But this idea proved too difficult with our basic software development skills (Web Design in Year 9: good; Software Development in Year 12: kinda bad) that we would need to confront Assignment 2. gas_n_go kinda made us realise that our idea could just as easily be done as a film (even though fiction is hell) and that although clicking stuff can only be found in this online screen media type world, it’s not as engaging as it could be. Plus, we needed to respond to more than just one characteristic, and the idea of interactivity that so many of us had already been drawn in by began to rear its ugly head. What could we possibly create? We were stumped, and there was downtime, and brainstorming, and denial.

Ok, back to Manovich.

Losing the entirety of week three’s classes has done me no favours towards getting the cogs in my brain churning. Assignment 1 felt like a bit of a bust: technical hitches coupled with an adolescent understanding of the concept we were actually investigating meant that project work was a little sloppy, a little rough around its embedded edges.

Assignment 2 (I legitimately have lost control of the concept of time……. we’re already in week 4? I mean damn) started to look brighter. Darcy debriefed me on what I’d missed, and over the previous(?) weekend Hannah gave us the task of investigating an interactive documentary of our choice on MIT’s docubase, which was achieved with varying degrees of success. Our principles have been slightly refined. We’re getting into the nitty-gritty. We’re all about new media now, like, the cool stuff we all know and love with varying degrees of affection.

In the reading for both week 3/4 (full document available online and free however legally here), Lev Manovich details the history of new media and how we got to the point where everything we’ve ever known and loved has been rendered into a mesh of 1s and 0s. It’s a whole bunch about the intersection between a) media, and b) computing, from their initial, extremely physical (legitimately physical) beginnings, through various centuries of technological advancement (punch cards: pop-u-lar). There then exists a convergence, in which the two parallel advancements between media and computing intertwine and become one. German engineer Konrad Zuse builds the world’s first digital computer the same year (1936) the integral computer scientist and noted Benedict Cumberbatch-doppelganger (if the light is shining at the right angle) Alan Turing wrote his seminal paper which later gave life to the Turing machine which, skipping over a few surely important developments, gave life to the device you’re reading this on now. Blogs? New media. With this intersection, media becomes translated into numerical data, able to be processed by computers. It’s all 1s and 0s from here on out. Computing becomes a whole lot more complex — beyond a “calculator, control mechanism, or communication device, the computer becomes a media processor”, a “media synthesizer and manipulator.”

Which is where we find ourselves in the development of assignment 2 — how can we put this synthesizer to good use? What inherent parts can we interrogate, highlight, extrapolate? Vine sucks now, where do we go from here?

Manovich has the key yet.

We’d all like to think that the gradual rise of real life Dumb and Dumber white boys Logan and Jake Paul was the nail in Vine’s tiny, ever-looping coffin. The two brothers were among the most popular users on the service, integral in launching it to popularity and still remain prominent in still insanely popular Vine compilations that cover a good portion of YouTube. But really, Vine’s death was prompted by it’s failure to adapt — as if it even could?

A Vine is a Vine because of its length. Its 6.5 second limit is part of its branding, its appeal, its integrity; lose the length, you lose everything. With the proliferation of short video content (and capabilities) rising in more functional, varied apps like Snapchat and Instagram, Vine began to shake in its boots. But change is always happening within our rapidly-changing, short-attention spanned lives. Nothing has a permanent shelf life. Cultural value comes and goes.

As projected in my Development post, we decided to look at the ‘unregulated length’ of these mediums, which, in the case of Vine, we’ve flipped to ‘regulated length’. How does Vine work as this video analog to Twitter’s short-form text posts, if it does at all? How has Twitter’s decision to up the character count from 140 to 280 affected this?

As demonstrated in my Project Work post, it’s a mess. The hypothesis goes out the window. Even at 140 characters, its nigh impossible to speak the chunk of text in any way that doesn’t sound like intelligent voice assistant-in-human-form Janet begging for her digital life in Netflix’s The Good Place. When bumped to 280, its plain hard to watch.

More than anything this experiment highlights the tricky situation that Vine ended up in that ultimately led to its death. Whereas Snapchat added more functionality and showed a willingness to adapt to its growth, and Instagram grew into the behemoth it now is, Vine couldn’t hold pace. Without risking a betrayal of its brand, there was nothing it could do. Users wanted to see more and more and more from their content creators, and popularity grew in applications that could service this. People wanted stories, fleeting moments, content that could be tapped through at will, content less concrete. To the average consumer, Vine’s central idea proved too precarious to make engaging content. Twitter was one thing, Vine was another — they couldn’t gel, and business took its toll.

Snapchat recently dropped their 10 second limit, letting users record for an infinite amount of time. This is the current landscape; constraints no longer matter.

Facebook’s new video-favouring algorithm marks an antagonist to the vibe that Vine was on. Along with the video, sound was integral to Vine — to jokes, to music, to loops — and Facebook is now full of videos with hard-coded text designed to be eye-catching. It’s a new way of engaging with news in a way that appeals to our clickbait sensibilities.

What if Vine never stood a chance? For some content creators it was a blessing, an interesting way of creating a new type of content that couldn’t be done with anything else. Vine was always the dark horse but never hit the peaks that its contemporaries rested at. Constraints are out, the infinite and endless abyss of content is in. With Vine 2 on some distant horizon, is a resurgence of regulated lengths coming? Can something like Vine work again now that their exists no limits?

140 #RIPVINE#TIFpic.twitter.com/p8bAgUmi4s

— Thinking in Vines (@ThinkinginVines) March 8, 2018

Vine reading 140 character tweet

280 #RIPVINE #TIF pic.twitter.com/YwtT9O5nkc

— Thinking in Vines (@ThinkinginVines) March 8, 2018

Vine reading 280 character tweet

This is a Vine. A Vine is a 6.5 second looping square video hosted on the social networking service of the same name. Vine was launched in 2013 and — through various peaks and troughs — died in 2017, dissolved into the world of increasingly-longer pockets of video content: your Snapchats and Snapchat stories, your Instagram videos. At a time when our attention spans were at their shortest, Vine packed up and shipped out. The limitations of its format became too restricting in a social media world of ten second stories, caption-able text, the proliferation of images. We’ll miss it.

At its peak, Vine created and harboured ecologies/economies of creators. From its consumer base we got absurdist comedy stars the likes of Nick Colletti, Gabriel Gundacker, Josh Ovalle: all who’ve since relocated their followings to Instagram; some who’ve maintained their comedy careers long enough to be playing shows in parts of the US. Vine presented a very real opportunity for a select few people — but how did they get there? How did we get here?

When originally pitched to Twitter, Vine was all but a microblogging tool, a way for people to capture small moments from their daily life and pop them up into the network in some great archive of fleeting happenings; passing cars shot from an upstairs window, great masses of people going on with their daily routines captured in a choppy, almost stop-motion-looking frame rate. And Twitter saw value in it as, as The Verge aptly describes it, a “near-perfect video analog to its flagship app’s short-form text posts”. Short text translates into short video, right?

via GIPHY

There are many things that make a Vine a Vine; inherent parts and processes that, while being absorbed by short-video formats that followed, were popularised and maintained by the service. For starters: Vine is first and foremost a smartphone app, build against the integral functions of a smartphone. You need a phone with a touchscreen (to initiate recording), a camera and a microphone, at its most basic. Just like Instagram, you can only upload content to the service directly from the application.

Taken out of context, a single Vine can appear like gibberish. The Vine embedded above will likely make no sense removed from important contexts that govern the service. It taps into a certain kind of niche internet humor that was central to many communities on the service — now that the Vine network has been taken offline and transformed into a grotesque, digitally-manufactured Museum of the Moving Image in its own way, that Vine has lost some of its power, subject to loop its eternal life away in an enclosed room on some wasting URL. Archive status hurts.

A Vine is a Vine because of its length and its looping functionality. When originally designing the service, Vine’s creators struggled to settle on the perfect length for their micro-stimulation: long enough to be able to actually do something, short enough that you’d would watch the entire thing. This is the most fundamental function — think of all the Facebook and Instagram videos you’ve given up on after catching a glimpse of their length, all the Snapchat stories where someone at a gig is determined to show you the entire thing. “You don’t just skip a six-second video, so you watch it. And when you like it … you appear to watch it three, four, five, six times in a row”, attests the president of a Vine-using marketing company Armstrong, Pierre Laromiguiere.

The key to Vine was its length, and the constraints this length then posed. In cinema, you’ve got ~2 hour and a thousand hours of footage that can be cut in an infinite number of ways. In Vine, you don’t have such luxury. In the world of emerging online screen media projects — from web series to interactive documentaries — making use of, and interrogating, the intrinsic elements of these things is, well … the aim of the studio. It’s a way of making for the new, in response to the new. It’s all very exciting!

For this project we decided to look at the ‘unregulated length’ of these mediums, which, in the case of Vine, we’ve flipped to ‘regulated length’. How does Vine work as this video analog to Twitter’s short-form text posts? How has Twitter’s decision to up the character count from 140 to 280 affected this? We’re living in a post-Vine world, folks. 6.5 seconds is no longer the norm.