My Day, Yesterday
It's been a while since I participated in the perpetuation of a meme.
They come in all shapes and sizes, iterations often propagated to the point of over saturation but for a more distinguished crowd rarely inspiring the dark turn to contributor. Recently there was an exception, a fresh departure from the archetypal surveys or photo manipulation. Still an exercise in turning the camera inwards, scratching some sort of narcissistic itch, but to a smoother more polished end. Like the difference between a rehashed trawl through fields of blank text and the careful approach to a tautly stretched canvas. The medium sets the bar.
First exposure was over at Laughing Squid, Garret Murray had shared out the above distillation of the mundane in the confines of a Flickr video, running his new D90 through the ropes. 90 seconds of controlled peep-show access to a mile in his shoes. The subsequent pool developed, users submitting their own creations arguably reaching for validation of gadget choice or music selection, routine or habit. Just another meme, or was it?
I was strangely captivated, but this wasn't the first time.
Lifehacker's run of Show Us Your Go Bag had elicited a similar participatory reaction. I tried not to dwell on what was surely a voyeuristic tendency to look over dozens of shoulders by way of what they decided to dump in to the public view, careful filtering more transparent in some contributions than others. Admittedly I primped and preened a bit prior to my own submission but still felt an odd sense of satisfaction having contributed to the collective.
This new project tugged the same strings and that night I ensured my point and shoot had a full charge for the day ahead.
The shooting process bordered on surreal, everyday actions snared to frames that would be but a brief flash of the whole. My workout reduced to mere seconds, hygiene a sort of wet time lapse in bodily function. It wasn't even noon and my camera was warm with body heat, filled with these myopic moments in time.
But I stayed the course, wading through the slurry of clips as I spliced together my day without consciously deciding on a unifying angle or theme. I had the option, though. Should I go the fitness route? Show off my washboard abs accidentally in the sweaty bathroom mirror? Casually pan over my bookshelf, letting titles and authors project my distinguished tastes and preferences?
I don't feel a decision was ever reached, interpretation left to a manic barrage of half-second assaults. Documentation is only as partial as the guy on the cutting room floor, control absolute over both tone and content. Floundering in a foreign medium the gritty details of my actions overwhelmed whatever first caused me to jump right in, the fun quickly fading as I looked deeper in to what was really going on here. This mash up of sound bites and motion.
The experience was fun though. Ultimately my upload finished and I could pick apart my own editing choices while still enjoying the similar actions of others. One doesn't have to dissect every shot with a furrowed brow. There are moments in the pool that shine brightly, an undeniably honest laugh here or tightly held hands in a cab there. A gob of toothpaste spat in the sink or a guttural greeting to a screaming alarm.
My outlook on these types of things has changed, blanket dismissal replaced with a more evaluative sense of speculation. The first submission really set the tone, even the comments on further additions proclaiming nearly universal positive reactions. People were having fun creating, critiquing, and comparing.
I wish I could reveal the secret formula here, be it Flickr's community or the medium itself, but I can't. Perhaps as that pool grows further unifying ties will surface explaining why or how or what it is that explains the appeal of this kind of content, genuine or otherwise. I know I'll keep watching though, until the next one comes along.
