virtualDavis

ˈvər-chə-wəlˈdā-vəs Serial storyteller, poetry pusher, digital doodler, flâneur.

Mashup Manifesto: Steal Like an Artist

Austin Kleon practices “creative thievery”. Perhaps we all do! (Meandering Margaux)

Get caught stealing like an artist! Austin Kleon (@austinkleon) did… And it seems to be serving him rather well.

Austin Kleon, Newspaper Blackout

Newspaper Blackout will take you down the blackout poetry path, demonstrating the visual and literary appeal of Kleon’s quirky poems. Kleon derives poetry by crossing out most of the words in a given publication, discovering meaning in the remnants, and he’d like to show you how to do the same. (I can’t help thinking about refrigerator leftovers for some reason, but most leftover success stories involve adding/combining rather than subtracting…)

In Steal Like an Artist Kleon deploys his full quiver of mashup, remixing and doodling tricks to offer some practical wisdom about the creative process to his 19 year old self. We’ve all wished our way back in time, yearned for a redo knowing what we now know. Kleon skips the wish and gets it done.

Ascent of the Cyberflâneur

If I was a cartoonist I would depict a cyberflâneur with huge burning ears… because s/he had developed the ability to listen intently from a place of silence! ~ Linda Hollier

Linda Hollier‘s (@lindahollier) playful caricature delights for many reasons not the least of which is its totally unselfconscious (and, I suspect, unintentional) counterpoint to Evgeny Morozov‘s (@evgenymorozov) op-ed, “The Death of the Cyberflâneur“.

Morozov pits his cyberflâneur caricature — a late 19th century dandy shackled and handcuffed between Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg — at odds with social media.

Looking out... looking in.

Transcending its original playful identity… [the Internet is] no longer a place for strolling — it’s a place for getting things done. Hardly anyone “surfs” the Web anymore. The popularity of the “app paradigm,”… has made cyberflânerie less likely…

THE tempo of today’s Web is different as well… the “real-time Web,”… it’s Silicon Valley’s favorite buzzword.

That’s no surprise: people like speed and efficiency… ~ Evgeny Morozov (NYTimes.com)

Morozov proceeds to single out Google and Facebook as two of the most flanerie-threatening forces. He likens the latter to Baron Haussmann who’s urban planning transformed Paris during the reign of Napoleon III, eliminating many of the conditions which had proven favorable to flâneurs.

Google, in its quest to organize all of the world’s information, is making it unnecessary to visit individual Web sites in much the same way that the Sears catalog made it unnecessary to visit physical stores several generations earlier.

[…]

Facebook seems to believe that the quirky ingredients that make flânerie possible need to go. “We want everything to be social,” Sheryl Sandberg, Facebook’s chief operating officer, said on “Charlie Rose” a few months ago. (NYTimes.com)

Swept up in a relentless 24×7 social data stream which simultaneously guides and limits our capacity (or appetite) for aimless meandering, we are less and less likely to veer from the pack. Gone is the autonomy and the veil of anonymity which let us lurk voyeuristically, dabbling, observing, studying humanity’s mesmerizing diversity. Or so Morozov asks us to believe.

Shady character! Cyberflâneur?

Hollier offers another perspective. She isn’t Pollyannaish about the web, social media and our increasingly wired lifestyles, nor does she shy from the challenges of information overload. Instead she embraces the data inundation much as late 19th century Parisian flâneurs embraced the urban throng. Together, but apart.

It is this intentional distance that Hollier and I have mused over individually and collectively over the last year or two. We recently reflected on deep listening to access the source of storytelling, even in the midst of distraction and hubbub. Hollier has explored the flâneur as a model for mindfulness, suggesting that “the flâneur thus begins to play the role of consciousness“, and she returns to the idea of mindfulness in “Cyberflanerie: Deep Listening in Cyberspace“, suggesting that the state of conscious, unbiased receptivity is precisely what distinguishes and empowers cyberflâneurs.

There is so much information coming at us in cyberspace that unless we nurture the intention of listening with “moment by moment, non-judgmental awareness” – the definition of mindfulness given by Jon Kabat-Zinn – we stand the risk of being overwhelmed and suffering from information overload. We will fail to capture the fleeting moment. It is only with an attitude of deep listening that we will be able to filter what really needs our attention. (here2here)

Deep listening. The cyberflâneur’s art, like his/her predigital forebears, is the art of receptivity. Attentive openness and observation without judgment. Heightened perception and omnivorous curiosity.

Today as we move through the speedy spheres of cyberspace – the limitless mindspace we find ourselves in when using technology to communicate – I believe it is the perceptive attitude of the flaneur that we should seek to cultivate… This practice will require a deep listening, whether it be to visual, aural or textual images. (here2here)

Hollier’s big-eared caricature of a mindful cyberflâneur strolling the global arcades we know as the Internet and practicing the art of listening resonates with ‘s (@johnhendel) “The Life of the Cyberflâneur“.

Space, whether for the Parisian walker, Internet browser, or tablet user, always has its architects, and what we now have amounts to a virtual, wonderful labyrinth without end… The cyberflâneur is triumphantly alive, a wry cackling presence that pops up wherever I look… Lurkers quietly drift at all hours, intent and voyeuristically hungry for understanding. There’s the sly playfulness and quirk… The cyberflâneur continues to probe our online paths today, and I suspect the same will be true tomorrow. (The Atlantic)

This is not penumbral cyberflanerie. Is it?

Hendel’s article, penned as a response to Morozov’s doomsday op-ed, concludes with an inevitable observation: Morozov must be strolling another Internet. After all, the digital arcades that Hendel, Hollier and I stroll enable and encourage a veritable renaissance for flanerie. Long live the cyberflâneur!

If you’ve endured this ponderous post, you may enjoy reading the following related reflections:

Storytelling, Stillness & Deep Listening

Life can become so very hectic and full of movement that we can forget what it is to be still and have nothing to do except to be still. (Abbot’s Notebook)

Before joining Mary Beth Coudal, Joanna Parson and Kathryn Cramer for a thoroughly rejuvenating Adirondack Memoir Retreat at Skenewood I posted a wandering rumination on storytelling. It connected dots. Loosely.

Mist. Lake. Mountains.

During the retreat I presented to the group on storytelling in the digital age, emphasizing the importance of — and increasingly abundant, powerful and affordable/free tools for — good storytelling. While the tools are many and evolving daily, the keys for good storytelling are few and enduring.

  • Listen Suspend noise, distraction and judgment.
  • Wonder Become curious and receptive. Ask questions.
  • Distill Strive to “unpack a narrative in its purest form” ~ Bob Davidson
  • Plot Sequence the scenes: beginning, middle, end.
  • Revise Trim the fat. Focus the narrative. Polish the delivery.
  • Practice Discover the narrative’s energy, pauses and cadence.
  • Share Relate interactively with your audience.

Although the last tip might vary depending on your storytelling medium (ie. print and video, for example offer minimal interactivity between storyteller and audience), I believe that “sharing stories” remains a superior goal to “telling stories”. After all, the story exists not in the words, images, etc. of the teller. The story is conjured up in the imagination of the audience. Whether oral story, book, movie, cartoon, it is the interaction of teller and audience that breathes life into a narrative.

For this reason, the best storytellers remain receptive, listening deeply to their audience even while relating their stories. Listening, revising, improving their narrative(s) for the current audience.

Mary Beth Coudal’s post-retreat reflection reminds us to listen and discover.

I’m finding benefits to being still, keeping quiet…

As we walked in the Adirondacks, the other writers and I stopped talking for a little bit. We said nothing.

When I wasn’t talking, I could listen. I could hear our footsteps, our breathing, a bird on the lake. I could hear a breeze through the leaves of grass. (To Pursue Happiness)

Mist. Lake. Boathouse.

Abbot Philip Lawrence’s quotation at the top of this post, excerpted from “Storytelling: From Ira Glass to Benedictine Monks“, was in my mind as I spoke with the retreat attendees about storytelling in the digital age. Today storytellers are blessed with ever richer storytelling tools and platforms, but their audience is drowning in distractions. It’s a noisy, hectic world, and it is more important than ever to cultivate stillness and quiet in order to listen.

Another conference attendee, William McHone, is setting off in pursuit of stories following the retreat.

As I head off on Wandering III, the people, places and events I come upon will inevitably remind me of the many wonderful people, places and events that have shaped my life thus far. I am hopeful, over time, the recording will become both something of a travel log and memoir… (Wandering With Moe)

As a fellow wanderer, perennially swaying to the siren song of adventurer, I envy McHone’s walkabout. Such sweet seduction!

And yet he must cultivate stillness as he wanders. He must be curious and receptive in order to discover the stories lurking in the people and places and events he will encounter. He must ask questions and listen deeply to the answers. He must distill the essential scenes and weave them into intoxicating narrative adventures. And he must share them. Again. And again.

And if he does, when he does, we will be listening.

Penguin Random House: Big Six Realignment Begins

Penguin Random House (Image by Marco Leone)

Penguin Random House (Image by Marco Leone)

By now you’ve heard the latest publishing industry scuttlebutt: Random House and Penguin are shacking up. But unlike many celebrity pairings which fuel the rumor mill (Is it a marriage of passion? Convenience?), this high profile marriage offers neither surprise nor mystery.

Penguin Random House is obviously a marriage of survival.

Like two gilded empires arranging a desperate diplo-nuptial alliance, these Big Six giants are defending their hegemony in a publishing marketplace increasingly dominated by Amazon, Apple and Google.

The book publishing industry is starting to get smaller in order to get stronger.

[The Penguin Random House merger] could set off a long-expected round of consolidation as the industry adapts to the digital marketplace… The merger will create the largest consumer book publisher in the world… [enabling] greater scale to deal with the challenges arising from the growth of electronic books and the power of Internet retailers.

[…]

Facing those challenges, the major publishers have been expected to join together, getting smaller in number and bigger in size… They could all now face increased pressure to consolidate in response to a combined Penguin Random House.

[…]

HarperCollins has already signaled its interest in consolidation… Analysts also said there could be matchups between large publishing houses and smaller, independent ones. (NYTimes.com)

Not a surprise. Inevitable. Catalytic at the very least and potentially transformative. But, too little too late? Perhaps.

Compare Penguin Random House’s potential leverage.

Penguin Random House would potentially have the market power to negotiate better deals for itself. That said, the company’s $4 billion in revenues in 2011 put it at about a tenth the size of Amazon with its $48.08 in revenues. (Forbes)

Bob Mayer dismissed the question of leverage in a tidy quip over on Nathan Bransford‘s blog.

How are they going to “battle” Amazon? Two very different entities.

And while NY is at least a year or two behind the digital age, making a larger entity certainly isn’t going to enhance change when they’re going to spend their time learning to merge, rather than advance. Small, agile publishers are the wave of the future and this was a step in the wrong direction. (Bob Mayer, via Nathan Bransford)

Leverage is leverage, especially given the massive publishing/retail bandwidth Amazon represents, but one wonders if it might take all of the Big Six merging to arm wrestle Amazon. And that might pose a few monopoly obstacles.

More likely, I imagine, will be increasingly widespread (and rapid) transformation among the traditional publishing companies. Much top talent will become free agents and many entry/mid-range talent will transition to other industries as the traditional publishing empires downsize and adapt leaner, more agile, customer-centric and creator-centric business models.

While a transition of this magnitude is inevitably destructive and scary, it is bound to fuel innovation, and this excites me and many other storytellers. Let the realignment begin! Who will follow Penguin Random House?

Adirondack Memoir Retreat

Mary Beth Coudal is hosting a 3-day memoir writing retreat from October 25 to 28 at Skenewood, an historic Georgian manor house in Westport, New York. Participants in Coudal’s Adirondack Memoir Retreat will complete a publishable story from their lives, discover the next steps in their memoir process, and connect with a community of memoir writers to share and support their journey. (Essex on Lake Champlain)

Hats off (and a deep, balance-testing bow) to Mary Beth Coudal for organizing and hosting an inspirational long-weekend on Lake Champlain for a group of inspiring memoirists. I was fortunate to lead a pair of workshops with Coudal and to present on the importance of storytelling in the digital age. But my favorite part of the weekend was connecting with great storytellers forging new paths in this wild and wooly world of publishing. Readers, you are in for a treat once these stories are ready for you!

Coudal’s Adirondack Memoir Retreat took place in an amazing location, but I’ll let the video images speak for themselves. If you’d like a first hand experience, you can rent or buy this childhood homestead of playwright Robert Sherwood, or—with a little luck—Coudal will host another writers’ retreat before the property is sold. Stay tuned…

Although I was only able to participate in the first day and a half due to conflicts, I spoke with many of the writers on their last night and they offered glowing reviews. I wish I’d been able to attend the final reading!

Storytelling: From Ira Glass to Benedictine Monks

At its best life rhymes. Like yesterday. While tuning up for a pair of Storytelling in the Digital Age workshops, two rhymes tumbled out of the interwebs and landed at my feet. More accurately, kindred souls reached across space and time to help me prepare for my storytelling workshops.

Yesterday I gushed about the wonder of storytelling, courtesy of Bob Davidson and Ira Glass. Though I’ve never met either of them in the conventional handshake “Let’s have coffee” manner, I consider them friends, inspirations, mentors. I might miss either of them in passing on the street, but I know Ira Glass’ storytelling voice, cadence and delivery instantly. And Davidson, though a newer “acquaintance” is familiar too. We share the same penchant and respect for wonder, as if our inner compasses orients to W instead of magnetic north.

And then this timely smoke signal from Linda Hollier (@lindahollier).

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Six  monks get their Gregorian groove on? That could only mean one thing!

A group of six monks stop by Studio 1A, proving that they don’t just spend their time reading and praying. They perform the song “Alleluia Lustus Germinabit” off of their new album, “Monks in the Desert.” (NBCNews.com)

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Aside from the unlikely venue, it was the most welcome of surprises to see (and hear) Abbot Philip and Brother Christian, Brother Caedmon, Prior Joseph Gabriel, Brother Pierre and Brother Francis chanting on the Today Show. I think the chant is actually “Alleluia Justus Germinabit” which the Abbot translates in the video as “The Just will Flourish”.

Although I’ve returned from Christ in the Desert with a stash of CDs after each visit, hearing the monks chanting on national television—and receiving the heads-up from a friend who knows my connection to the monastery—resonated deeply.

All the more so when Hollier directed me to Abbot Philips notebook/newsletter yesterday. I’d like to share a few excerpts that rhyme with yesterday’s post about the wonder of storytelling.

In New York, one of the insights that came to me one morning was the absolutely necessity of knowing how to be still inside oneself and to be aware of God’s presence. Life can become so very hectic and full of movement that we can forget what it is to be still and have nothing to do except to be still. Wherever we are and in whatever situation, we can move to this inner space of peace and quiet and refreshment. It takes a discipline to be able to do this… I also begin to consciously relax my whole body. I do this by being aware that I want to do nothing other than relax and still be alert… (Abbot’s Notebook)

The singing underneath. Storytelling springs from silence. This is more important than ever amidst the digital din. And good stories are likewise all the more powerful when they take us by the hand and lead us away from the digital din. Even when they leverage digital storytelling tools to connect with their audience.

Last but not least, I’d like to close by asking you to consider the monks’ exemplary storytelling. Despite the irony of monastics deploying effective transmedia storytelling, the Christ in the Desert monks are master storytellers. Even Ira Glass might be able to learn a thing or two! :-)

The Wonder of Storytelling

Ira Glass: This American Life

Ira Glass: This American Life

A week ago Bob Davidson (@bob_davidson) asked, “What makes good story?” on my new favorite blog, rednow. Davidson is the creative producer for Rule29 and co-founder of rednow, where the art of wonder is practiced, romanced and encouraged.

Wonder makes good story. And, like Davidson, I’m happy to reward storytelling MVP status to Ira Glass and This American Life. Though I’m not certain I could have teased out the reason(s) why… Not so simply. Nor so elegantly.

Here’s Davidson:

I decided to… listen to the entire collection of This American Life… [So far I] have listened to over 250 episodes. I’ve subsequently determined the TAL team are arguably the best storytellers in the business today. Primarily, because they get this:

Great storytellers are made by great listeners. Great listeners understand how to ask and identify the right question. The right questions beckons the story.

And while this is the basic framework of all great storytelling, the real brilliance of the TAL team and what arguably sets them apart is their ability to unpack a narrative in its purest form – a focus on the sequence of actions, or the “anecdote”, as Ira Glass deems it… the audience has no other choice but to begin visualizing the narrative… a space for wonder is created. (rednow)

Over the next few days I’ll be talking to two different groups about Storytelling in the Digital Age, a familiar (and favorite) topic explored with memoir writers on Friday and artists on Saturday. I have high hopes for both workshops, especially now that I can cite Davidson’s post to help incubate reflection on what makes good storytelling.

English: Ira Glass of This American Life givin...

Ira Glass (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I couldn’t agree more with his first assertion that great storytellers are first and foremost great listeners, but I think it’s even more fundamental than identifying the right question. Before you can identify the right question, you have to quiet your own voices enough to hear the singing underneath. Instead of imposing your story/ies, you need to open up, to become receptive and unjudging. To listen, I mean really listen, you have to be curious. To listen deeply, you have to suspend your own assumptions and convictions.

Questions help, and I agree that they’ll help beckon the stories, but even before you start to identify and ask questions you need to listen with patience and curiosity.

Above all, I tip my hat to Davidson for this: unpack a narrative in its purest form. Period. If only it were as easily executed as repeated!

Rainy Verse

Griffin wonders why HE can't have Oreos and coffee for breakfast...

I awaken to sheets of rain. And a brief power outage while fixing breakfast for Griffin, my rain-averse, pro-breakfast Labrador Retriever.

“What?” I can see the puzzled thought balloon in the dark above his cocked head. “Breakfast blackout?”

And then the lights come back on. Or the generator. Briefly. And then “the mains” as our linguistically amusing royal forbears would say.

Breakfast. For beast and man. But first, a rainy verse.

Reading a poem written in a rain puddle.
A pickup truck speeds through, soaking me.
I wear the poem home to read again later.

Not this morning’s verse. Pulled instead from the recycling bin of orphan poems slowly composting…

Autumn Appetite

Have you felt the change? Are you rediscovering your autumn appetite?

I realized a year or two ago that autumn is my favorite season in the Adirondacks. Along with summer, winter and spring…

Okay, so fall’s definitely in my top four Adirondack seasons. There’s just so much going for it. Like that crisp, chilly air which is so welcome after the humid heat of late summer.

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Socks. For the first time in months. #autumn #...

And that amazing natural light, so nuanced after the scorching days of August.

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Butter cream lighting... It must be fall. #aut...

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Thin autumn lighting... But no longer butter c...

And then there’s yesterday’s sunrise, equally autumnal, but more dramatic than this morning.

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Good morning, Champlain Valley. #Adirondacks v...

Not bad, right?

Of course fall is also marked by the shifting palate. For a while I’ve been dreaming of Khoresht-e Bademjan, one of my favorite Persian dishes. Basically, it’s a delicious eggplant stew with a cool name! Although it is typically prepared with beef or chicken, my bride’s vegetarian commitment (more than half of her life and unfortunately no signs or lapsing) challenged the possibilities for this dish. As did the abundance of eggplant and tomatoes I’ve been pulling out of my vegetable garden. Unfortunately, I don’t grow saffron, and our larder was bare. So I improvised a bit.

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Instagram and Twitter sort of play well together, but the latter likes to clip the former. In this case, you lose. Actually, I lose. Now I need to wander over to my Instagram account and figure out what I said for the other steps. It should have continued: “Blanch 30 seconds, remove skins, stems and cores. Step 3: Add tomatoes and 1/2 bottle of crisp white wine to slow cooker. Step 4: Cook for hours on low heat.” Here’s what it should look like:

Step 1: Gather LOTS of yellow, pineapple cherr...

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Okay, back to Instagram’s abbreviated posts again. To continue: “Step 6: Wash eggplant, remove stems and blossom ends, and slice the “long way”. Did you get that, long way? As in, end-to-end rather than slicing the eggplant into thick coin slices.”

Step 5: Pick 1/2 dozen (or so) long, skinny, r...

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Step 7: Apply olive oil liberally to all sides of eggplant and arrange on foil-covered sheet. Bake at 400 degrees (F) for 1/2 hour. Step 8: Try to resist eating eggplant while sautéing 1-2 finely chopped onions and 3-4 garlic cloves in olive oil.

Step 7: Apply olive oil liberally to all sides...

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Step 9: Stir 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon turmeric into yellow tomato sauce. Step 10: Add baked eggplant spears and sautéed onions/garlic to tomato sauce and slow cook without stirring for 2 hours.

Step 9: Stir 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon turmeric into...

Taste and mix gently, adding salt and pepper to taste. This stew is a totally unique flavor, one that I can summon up from memory. However my Westernized (wine? vegetarian?) variation on this traditional Persian dish is absent two important flavors, safron (subtle) and limes (potent). I used white wine that had begun to turn to vinegar, so some of the zesty acidity of the original was present, but the unique and totally distinct lime (or better yet, dried lime) flavor does improve Khoresht-e Bademjan. Next time!

Done at last! Time to eat... Did you guess wha...

My bride also prepared a shrimp with sesame and garlic stir-fry, and added another home-grown autumn dish, stuffed peppers.

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Homegrown sweet peppers stuffed with minced on...

The stuffing was made of minced onions, mushrooms, piñon nuts and quinoa. Pretty tasty if you enjoy woodsy flavors combined with the bite of a baked pepper. Not everyone does, but I’m a fan.

Past its prime, but still plenty of woodsy mus...

Okay, you say, but what to quaff with autumnal menu?

A tart mug of apple cider would hit the spot.

Or, if you’re sympathetic to the wiles of spirits bachanalian, then you might wish to try E. Guigal’s 2001 Châteauneuf-du-Pape 2001 as we did.

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It’s getting a bit long in the tooth according to Wine Spectator who awarded it 93 points a decade ago. I thought it complemented the hardy dishes perfectly. Here’s what Wine Spectator had to say about this classic red from the Southern Rhône:

Old-fashioned, this full-bodied traditional wine seduces with its decadent game, saddle-leather, plum and sautéed wild mushroom aromas. No hint of fancy oak, just a mouthful of Châteauneuf character that swirls around to a long, sweet finish. (Wine Spectator)

Intrigued? You might still be able to ferret out a bottle if you’re lucky.

This is a glimpse into my current Adirondack appetite. Crisp air. Thinner, creamier sunlight. And hardy harvest-heavy culinary experiments paired with patina’ed red wines. What’s your autumn appetite?

Cycling & Recycling

Cycling & RecyclingStiffer breeze than anticipated – better suited to windsurfing than cycling – but after double days of drizzle I’m due for a pedal along the Adirondack Coast.

Recently I’ve been recording my bike rides and uploading them to the interwebs. Why? Goals. Tracking. And, even for other cyclists to use. I’ve also been using my GoPro camera to get footage of the rides, and soon I’d like to post a collection of good Champlain Valley bike loops with video highlights, routes, distances, etc. Maybe a future feature for Essex on Lake Champlain? Would be nice to recycle the digital artifacts of my rides into a usable tool for others. Perhaps there’s a convenient way to share my Garmin Connect data? Contact me with suggestions.

Until then, a fuzzy image of an old tricycle rusting under the drip-line of the bike shop in Plattsburgh who keeps me rolling along. Thanks, guys!