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Media devices of contemporary society constantly tread towards an ideal of transparency and immersion. We want the artifice of our tablet or phone devices to act as physical extensions of our own limbs and perceptual faculties –
just look at touch-screen, voice-command, and the visual interfaces which simulate tangible objects such as loose leaf paper or sticky notes.

In addition to practical tools, our entertainment media too progress towards an ever more immersive experience.

48 fps films such as the new Hobbit series,

3-dimensional cameras for films such as Avatar which attempt to transmute its audience to an alternate universe,

or videogames such as Call of Duty which simulate battlefield experiences with point-of-view perspective and high-definition graphics.

The above media exemplify a cultural push for virtual reality – the simulation, perhaps even the electronic accentuation of immediate physical experience with the environment.

Historically, prominent schools of intellectuals and social theorists have expressed anxiety towards virtual reality, arguing such technology obfuscates reality. Some of the founders of the field of Communications, picking up a line of discourse formulated by early 20th century sociologists, argue our very state of existence is so highly contrived by a phenomena of perpetual imagery

from billboards

to neon lights

to street-side advertising signs

that our psychological state has been fractured. The modern individual subject is interpolated by the ideological agendas imagery which populates physical artifacts around him or her to the point of a distantiation from material, or perhaps even spiritual reality.

I would like to complicate this common fear of virtuality. I agree that the transparency and immersive capacity of our surrounding media has grown exponentially. Rather than seeing this increased virtualization of the social landscape as a shift away from reality, however, I posit a bolder claim – that increasing virtuality offers deeper insight into the glimmering reality behind the virtual.

For one thing, let us consider Hollywood films such as The Matrix and Inception. Both are big-budget special effects movies which draw audiences with the promise of immersive spectacle, yet simultaneously function as convincing demystifications of immersion.

The Matrix is about an ideal society which is, in fact, simulated by an apparatus of robots conspiring to oppress the human civilization. The film suggests the possibility that social organization and modern luxury are false freedoms in exchange for mental agency. This is not just an entertaining story, but a self-reflexive depiction of the Hollywood image manufacturing process – which sells utopian visions in exchange for our time, money, and subservience to consumer ideals.

Inception tells a suspenseful story about invading an individual’s dreams and planting ideas that had yet not existed within their subconscious. As the film’s complex narrative web unfolds, the ambiguous layers of dream-consciousness seem to fold over one another, leaving the audience unsure of which dream each character currrently resides in, or whether there is any real in the first place, or whether each plane of existence the protagonists inhabit is in fact a dream. Inception too propagates a message of false consciousness – that aspects of material existence may be manufactured projections rather than self-evident material reality. Moreover, Inception articulates a theory of ideological interpolation – that the artifacts of simulation which surround us may be sowing the seeds of ideas in our minds.

At the point where seemingly neutral objects of social organization are always-already manipulating our psyches, perhaps the way to resist is through a recursive act of hypersimulation. In other words, rather than attempting to disengage from the contrived advertising culture which permeates every thread of the social fabric, a strategy of inflecting an entertainment culture of virtual reality with visceral encounters of authentic reality becomes possible.

For example, how might an immersive, psychological identification with a soldier in Call of Duty not only simulate a fictional war-time experience, but also demonstrate the real and horrible effects of war and militarization? Or how might the fantasy-land of Naavi in Avatar serve as a serious critique of technological overconsumption of natural resources.

During the aftermath of this year’s Grammy’s, several prominent hip-hop artists have voiced their criticisms of the award show. Through a post on Instagram, Snoop Dogg joined the list this morning with a startling image. The picture displays Macklemore–tuxedo’d out, hair flipped like a pancake–accepting a Grammy, while in the background sit head shots of legendary hip-hop artists who never gained as much popular support as Macklemore does now. And there are a lot of faces behind the thrift shopper’s polished smile. Snoop writes, “Macklemore has more Grammys than Tupac, The Notorious B.I.G., DMX, Busta Rhymes, KRS-One, Rick Ross, Snoop Dogg, Snoop Dogg, Mos Def, Run DMC, Public Enemy, Big Pun, Young Jeezy, Ja Rule and Kendrick Lamar combined.” Combined!

That list simply makes no sense. Except when I pause to think about which celebrities are most popular in this country, and why that is, and then this list makes complete sense. The major difference between Macklemore and each of these other artists is not hard to recognize, and as much as he may disagree, at least part of Macklemore’s enormous success and fame and record sales and sold out stadium shows is because of his race. Which, on the outset, would not be a problem. In any other music genre, it would not cross anyone’s mind. But Macklemore is not in any other music genre. He’s in hip-hop. A music and culture created by a specific group of people in a specific place to overcome a specific type of adversity. And while hip-hop has developed and evolved in enormous ways since then, there is still a matter of appropriation and exploitation when a white person becomes a hip-hop artist.

Macklemore’s most committed fans will argue with me here. They’ll say that he understands the precarious place he holds, and makes music in a self-aware and humble way. They’ll say he once wrote a song about this very topic, and is the first to admit there are problems with being a white rapper.

This is where I become frustrated. The song most people mention in defense of Macklemore is from one of his earlier mixtapes. It’s a track called “White Privilege” and at first glance seems like he really knows what he’s talking about.

Here’s the hook::

“Hip-hop started off on a block that I’ve never been to

To counteract a struggle that I’ve never even been through

If I think I understand just because I flow too

That means I’m not keeping it true, I’m not keeping it true.”

Which sounds great. And so does the rest of the song. He talks about gentrification and white privilege and cultural appropriation. It seems like he really genuinely understands the issues he himself perpetuates. And so my only question, one that I think would be quite obvious, is why in the hell is he still rapping? If he knows it’s wrong of him to do this, if he knows he is changing the culture of a genre of music he has no right to, then why is he knowingly continuing his career? What a hypocrite!

Macklemore doesn’t exactly address this problem in his song. He does a magnificent job outlining the multitude of problems related to this issue, but doesn’t hold himself accountable. His one response comes in a horribly vague phrase: “I’m gonna be me.”

So even though there are a million things wrong with doing what he’s doing, Macklemore’s going to continue because, well, that’s who he is.

No wonder Snoop is angry.

This semester, RC Professor Ana Fernandez is teaching a course in East Quad about alternative exhibition spaces for art shows of all kinds. The assignments are planned and executed as collaborative projects, with each student carrying out their own role in the course of its completion: there are places to reserve, deadlines to schedule, theme and scope decide on, not to mention the art to find and install!

But what if the art came to the show?

This group of exhibitionists decided that they didn’t wanna put on the same kind of juried competition in which the art that’s being shown is decided on by a group of people all with different opinions and ideas of what a painting should be or how sculpture is done – they decided to have a show that’s UNjuried by its nature, driven by the energy of the movers and makers themselves, participatory, in flux, alive ! If an artist wants to hang a painting they can hang a painting! Hang stuff from the ceiling! Sculpture on the floor! No found object, designed object, sound, photograph, poem, performance or any other gem of creative thought or action turned away until the Duderstadt gallery’s full to the brim!

In addition to the open space with NO rules (except maybe no things that explode or cause other quieter forms of bodily harm), word on the street is that there’s also gonna be a place to make stuff over the course of the show itself – an invitation to come and help create a big sprawling field of anything at all on the paper-covered walls and blank space of glinty lights! Like the imagination itself!

And I think this is an important to be happening, how sometimes the gem of the art is the making itself, makin with a friend or with strangers, expressing thyself to a neighbor, to a tree, the snow, the sky ! Open up the world of dreams! This Friday at 6pm and beyond!

(themostopenopenshow@umich.edu for info n stuff)

Tumbling through my own thoughts – slowing to a crawl at certain times and speeding into a frenzy as slews of unending sentences spill forth through the tips of my fingers rhythmically tapping the key – it becomes very easy to forget where I was going with anything. There is never a strict agenda when I bring my thoughts to the page, or maybe not even in my head either. More often than not, a character as absurd as a man who drinks poison for a living is all I need to get me going. That would be some cool shit to write about for my next short story I say and my sprawling unconscious responds with, “fine, I’ll fill in the rest.”But being guided through the corridors of my mind by color coded fluorescent lights may be all in all a better strategy if I wish to extend my stories to anything longer than twenty pages. Wouldn’t? Shouldn’t? Naw…it couldn’t, I would never finish it cause I’d get bored halfway through. There is more excitement if I don’t know the ending either as I write the story.

Each scene needs to be important by itself. Come come no filler filler. But when I plan, I always find myself adding such elements. Such bombastic or often dull lulls of needless plot.
Sometimes you don’t want to buy that OJ with no pulp, sometimes you NEED that pulp. Ironically, I guess OJ with no pulp goes down smoother than the other variant. Revel! Revel! Cheap amusement has come!
Couch lounging relaxation to soothe the mind into a gentle haze of acceptance of whatever stream of information is being filtered into the tête. Cups of corn syrup and handfuls of salt, munching with ever-dry lips and watching with half-closed-lids, and an engine that is barely running, grumbles on to keep the top happy.
Outside, in the bay, the cargo ships sit in the polluted waters that spit out purple seashells for kids to collect and dogs to step on, awaiting the delivery of their presents from ashore, until then, their red noses sticking out of the water, their empty stomachs allow such buoyancy. Reveal to me your little red nose greedy vessel. Wait in the cold night till fate delivers you what you yearn. Then before the collared man wakes the next day, leave without a note, taking with you your earned riches, only to give it all away. Give and take, never keep anything, and see the new and old.

It is easier to move on when you do not linger. Deal with success and failure in the same way – quickly learn and move on. Otherwise, how can you improve? By sitting around on your successes or failures…all you do is spit out purple shit.