Ten Years Later

Post-Script: In the interests of self-promotion (which I'm awful at), here are some links to my other blogs, and You Tube channel.

The Line Writer.
A Series of Meaningless Photographs.
Obscure Camera.
Joe's YouTube channel.

At this current moment I see no reason to monetize any of these social media, as I appreciate the idea of a "free" interchange of thoughts; even if the concept of "free" is a matter of self-delusion, since it's all paid for, somehow, indirectly, by some other scheme. I think this is an important component to understanding this age of social media, that we often operate under the false assumption of "free" access to global, internet-based communications, since most social media platforms require no direct pay-to-play membership. In the long term, none of this is really sustainable without someone footing the bills. Understanding the underlying architecture of social media, we have to realize that you and I are the product being bought and sold. As long as we are comfortable with that thought, all is well, in the near term. Yet the idea that my writings, images and videos are being stored on someone else's servers, with no real insurance of their long-term survivability (other than the financial health of the hosting corporation itself), remains a bit unsettling.

Photo via 8"x10" meniscus lens box camera onto photo paper negative. Typecast via Underwood Universal.

On Re-Typing

Post-Script: I'm not certain the analogy is perfectly apt, but I see re-typing as similar to noodling on a guitar using sheet music of some popular song; a cover-tune, attempting to walk in someone's footsteps, not for the purpose of simulation; more like emulation, honoring their art and craft in the knowing that, in the case of authors from the mid-20th century, they too most likely were perched in front of some similar typing iron, fingers banging away on keys. You get a sense of the work that went into the final piece. I certainly felt that as I typed this favorite excerpt of mine from Kerouac's On the Road, wherein you can almost hear the music and smell the aroma of the smoke-filled nightclubs.

"Here were the children of the American bop night." What a wonderful turn of phrase.

Photo via Lumix GH3, typecast via Underwood Universal.

Nine Cameras & Three Videos

TWVS Episode 16: Cleaning Type Slugs


Making Pinhole Camera Apertures


Film Canister Pinhole Camera Project


Post-Script: I suppose, counting the Clip 2, it would be ten cameras.

I did an initial round of test-exposures for the nine little pinhole cameras, and everything worked as expected. My hand-fashioned pinholes are close enough in size to each other that I don't need a different focal ratio (and hence exposure time) for each camera; which was my objective.

The Narrative Clip 2 is really designed for life-logging by people who are always connected via smart phone; whereas my objective is more purposeful. I also don't want all those many photos uploading to someone else's server, I'd rather sort through them myself, delete the junk files (because a life-logging camera will produce a ton of junk images, at a rate of one per every 30 or 60 seconds, for example), and keep (and control the usage of) the rest. But the app enables one to also control the settings of the camera, including how often pictures are automatically recorded, and the length of video clips, etc. Though I haven't tried it with the new iOS version 9-dot-something on my iPad 2, I couldn't download the Narrative app with the older version 7-dot-something; nor was the Android app version compatible with my Dell tablet; hence why I'm for now using the PC version and downloading the images via USB straight to my hard drives.

And just in case you were wondering, I don't carry a "smart" phone, instead opting for a "dumb" (i.e. "flip") phone, whose service plan only costs me $15 per month. Not because I'm a Luddite but because, one, I'm cheap; and two, I have a "smart" phone for work, and detest the thing's constant desire to be fondled and caressed, like some poor, neglected child with psychological issues. Also, I enjoy ending calls by slamming the flip-phone shut, with that satisfying, tactile ker-thwack; much better than poking at a smudgy glass screen.

Typecast via Underwood Universal.