With easy access comes easy hypocrisy.

I can’t help but be aware of a disturbing harmonic buzz in my head when I read two stories on the same day that point to a particular digital age dichotomy. Remember Sarah Jones? You might have helped her story go viral. Sarah was a camera assistant, who was killed when she was struck by a train during filming of the Gregg Allman biopic Midnight Rider. I read today that the producers of that now-cancelled project have surrendered themselves to Georgia State authorities to face charges of involuntary manslaughter stemming from the February 20 disaster. But also today, I read that the app Popcorn Time, which makes movie piracy easy for everyone with its Netflix-like interface, is being “improved” for the Android platform. The hypocrisy underlying the concurrence of these stories is typical of our times. The same technology that enables people to know about Sarah, to share her story, even to join the campaign pledging better on-set safety, also allows some of the very same individuals to flick a thumb and start pirating motion pictures that are made by tens of thousands of people just like Sarah.

Here’s a clue:  if you enjoy motion pictures and actually care at all about the well being of the individuals who do the heavy lifting to make those films happen, don’t pirate. It’s a no-brainer. In an effort to justify this behavior, you can quibble all you like about where you think (because you actually don’t know) the money goes; but in general, the money (a.k.a. the project investment) pays for worker wages, union support, insurances, location fees, and, yes, safety procedures and personnel. Unfortunately, accidents and negligence still happens; and it is always the responsibility of managers and fellow crew members to keep checks on our ingrained culture that wants to get the shot at almost any cost. Surely, firsthand accounts of the Midnight Rider production sound like the kind of amateurish crap that goes on all the time and thankfully only rarely results in serious injury or death. So, while I’d certainly stop short of saying piracy kills filmmakers, I will not hesitate to say that, in general, economic stability is better for maintaining worker safety in every industry. And we have yet to fully see the effects of piracy on this industry.

We have a bad habit of talking about piracy with regard to finished and popular filmed entertainment. Partly, this is because it suits piracy’s supporters to say things like “XYZ tentpole made a gazillion dollars, so piracy does no harm and probably even helps.” But for every Avengers and Game of Thrones out there, there are hundreds or thousands of small and medium budget pictures being made, many of which are the films most treasured by serious fans. 

Digital-age utopians love to extoll the virtues of independent, guerrilla filmmaking; and when they do, it’s a little like listening to middle-class white kids gripe about the struggle of some oppressed minority. It’s both true and utter bullshit at the same time, especially if the self-appointed proponent of indie filmmaking is also pro-piracy. The reality is none of these people has a clue about the very specific set of skills Sarah Jones had developed and was developing in her role as an AC. Those skills don’t come cheap, and neither should they. But among the indisputable ill effects of piracy is that it exerts economic pressure on the industry as a whole, and it will always be the small to midsize, indie producers who will present the earliest symptoms of the diseases caused by this pressure. These symptoms may include lower standard wages for skilled workers and/or shortcuts around various production practices that affect general working conditions, including safety. 

Yes, Sarah’s untimely and entirely avoidable death should be a wake-up call to production teams everywhere to remind themselves that no film is worth unreasonable risks to a crew member’s safety. But as this tragic story also draws attention to the many otherwise invisible hands behind the scenes, perhaps consumers ought to consider their responsibility to support a sustainable industry rather than casually line the pockets of poachers who do absolutely nothing.

Owning One’s Data with Jennifer Lyn Morone (Podcast)

Jennifer Lyn Morone Part I
Jennifer Lyn Morone Part II

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we are presently grappling with existential questions posed by big data and at the same time, considering the social implications of rulings by the supreme court in both Citizens United and Hobby Lobby.   In fact, I believe we have an unprecedented mandate at this point in history to more rigorously consider the distinction between human beings their inventions. The nature of existence itself is changing as we atomize experience into data that is bought and sold as a new commodity.  At the same time, many of us in the United States are concerned about the precedents set when corporate entities appear to be endowed with the same rights as living beings.  A corporation is a tool.  Technology is a tool.  But whether us makers are using these tools or they are using us is a question yet to be answered. And examination includes choices about personal privacy and the economic value of ourselves as expressed in a body of data.

Jennifer Lyn Morone, Inc from jennifer morone on Vimeo.

In this podcast, I talk with Jennifer Lyn Morone, who is in the start-up phase of bringing to market Jennifer Lyn Morone™ Incorporated.  An American artist who has lived in Europe for more than a decade, Morone has chosen to address these social, economic, and existential questions with a venture that is part experiment, part cultural statement, and part business.  By incorporating herself, Jennifer Lyn Morone will now be the CEO of Jennifer Lyn Morone, Inc., and that means literally treating her life, her experiences, her knowledge, even her biological data, as a set of assets to be fully managed and monetized at the discretion of the corporation.  This Fall, Morone will begin using a combination of cameras and data recording technology to track her activities and store information on servers controlled by the corporation.  I think this is not going to be just another example of web-enabled voyeurism.  Morone is serious about the business venture, and she’s eager to share what she learns as she explores the dual nature of being both a person and a corporation.

Visit Jennifer Lyn Morone™ Inc. website.

So wait, Google is pro censorship?

Sometimes one is confronted with an absurdity so self-evident that it defies an introductory sentence.  So, I wrote that sentence instead.  But what’s got me gobsmacked today is a story by Adam Sherwin writing for The Independent explaining that Google insisted the popular music site Drowned in Sound censor images of certain album covers on the grounds that they are “sexually explicit” and, therefore, violate existing policy that Google will not serve ads to sites with “adult or mature content.” Really?  Last I checked, half of Google’s arguments for failing to address matters like contributing to piracy were based on a stance against censorship.

First of all, I can login to YouTube right now, search the word sex, and get scads of results with sexually explicit thumbnails.  In fact, many of these thumbnails link to videos that are not so explicit as the pictures imply. So, I guess it’s okay for Google to use pornographic thumbnails in a bait-and-switch ploy to get users to click on videos that are ad supported, but if an artist depicts the naked human form (newsflash, artists do this sometimes) in a painting or other medium, then Google can arbitrarily label it “adult mature content” and out of bounds? I know one man’s art is another’s pornography, and this subjectivity is an important standard for the protection of free speech; but somehow mainstream advertisers seem to know pornography when they see it because you won’t find their brands on actual pornographic sites (I asked a friend).  But consider this…

One of the covers targeted by Google for censorship was for the album OH (Ohio) by the band Lambchop.  The irony in this case is pretty thick considering the painting depicting two lovers in bed in the foreground with a scene of police brutality through the window in the background evokes of one of the most famous visual themes in the history of Western art — that of Olympia.  Probably the most well-known and most overly-adapted Olympia is Manet’s painting of the nude courtesan, which debuted in 1865.  It was scandalous in its time, not so much for the nudity but for the blatant depiction of a prostitute looking right at the viewer. The Lambchop cover is a painting by artist Michael Peed, a friend and former professor of frontman Kurt Wagner, and Peed references the familiar Manet composition to create a scene that is provocative in our times.  The counterpoint between the intimacy of the lovers and the abuse by the police is a wry statement that one can interpret as one may choose, but that it should be censored by Google of all entities has got to at least make you wonder what all their pro-culture, pro-speech horse shit is all about.  Take this for what it’s worth, but the censored version with pixel blurs over the “naughty bits” inadvertently makes an even more disturbing statement about America — that sex remains offensive while police brutality is not.  Well played, Company That Shall Not Be Evil.

We should not lose sight of the significance of an entity like Google exerting its influence, even in this small case.  An individual advertiser may, and should, choose what kind of media associations best suit its brand.  You probably won’t see Betty Crocker commercials during Adult Swim, for instance.  But should an ad service business — and in this case the only ad service business —  be entitled to arbitrarily label creative works “sexually explicit” and requiring censorship? If Peed’s painting meets that definition, then so does nearly every nude in every museum and gallery in the world. I thought the Internet was the proverbial garden of free expression.  I also thought Google was just a neutral highway that has neither interest in nor responsibility for the manner in which users drive.

Admittedly, even for Google-scale hypocrisy, it is an enigmatic choice to commit such a blatant act of censorship where there isn’t even a hint of gray area regarding the works in question.  Is this the result of killjoy bots?  Or is it a sign that Google will soon be throwing even more prudish sops to its new conservative friends among DC influence-peddlers?  No matter what the thinking (and I use that word generously) may be in this case, the disturbing implications of the precedent cannot be overstated.  To be outside the Google universe is to be effectively off the web, at least as far as monetization goes. This is an absurd amount of power for any single company to wield. And seeing as we are no longer able to distinguish between corporations and people in the United States, I’m not at all ready to let the whims of centaurs in Silicon Valley or anywhere else define what it means to be indecent.