Art, Ego and Social Sharing

My name is Botgirl Questi and I'm a compulsive social sharer. (Hi, Botgirl!) Over the past six years I've posted 15,000 tweets, 2000 blog posts, 250 videos and 3000 images on Flickr. Not to mention Facebook, Plurk, Tumblr, etc. And do you know how much money I've made from all this effort? Zero. So why do I keep doing it?

It's complicated. Or if not complicated, at least complex: A twisted web of reasons tangled so tightly that it's hard to discern between art and ego, creativity and compulsion. In any case, I'm happier when I'm doing it than when I'm not. Happier creatively lubricated than blocked. So fuck it, right?

Here's my new favorite character musing over the topic.

Critique Redux

A single frame remake of a multi-frame comic I made during a 2009 Second Life art controversy.

Perception and value judgement is a dance between the viewer and the object of contemplation. The challenge as a creator is to resist getting caught up in either praise or criticism, and to embrace, express and evolve one's personal vision. Unless you're mostly in it for money. Or ego. Or masochism.  Or simple encouragement. Any or all of those reasons are fine. The trick is to use feedback in a manner that supports rather than sabotages your aims.

I Learned Everything I Know About Critique From Reality Shows

My entry for this week's Single Frame Stories Challenge. The topic is "critique." 

If you ever wonder whether people can have a grossly distorted perception of their own talent, try watching a few audition episodes of the X Factor. You'll see contestants who can't carry a tune be devastated to hear criticism from the judges. But you'll also see tremendously gifted singers surprised by effusive praise. Unfortunately, the critique on that program is more about drama and cleverness than providing useful feedback. But some reality talent shows do a better job.

So You Think You Can Dance is a great place to see how positive critique and coaching can help push creatives to higher levels of artistry and performance. Being able too see a group of gifted dancers evolve and transform over the course of a couple of months is inspiring. Outside of the obvious love for dance and desire to nurture talent, the feedback is useful because it includes concrete direction from people who are both knowledgeable and accomplished.

Unfortunately, critique via internet comments is usually closer to X Factor than SYTYCD. There's a lot of mean spirited and thoughtless criticism. And a fair amount of gushy praise. But there's a dearth of insightful and actionable critique from people with the knowledge and experience to offer useful input.

I think we do a pretty good job as a creative avatar-identified community in supporting each other's work through positive comments. What I'd love to see is more constructive critique. I'm going to try to be more thoughtful in my praise and more concrete in offering specific suggestions or concerns. Like, "Botgirl, what's up with the faux scratches on this image?"

Confessions of a Digital Artist

I spent a few hours last weekend strolling through our city's annual art fair. More than 100 artists from around the country exhibited ceramics, drawings, fiber, glass, metalwork, painting, photography, printmaking, sculpture . . . and digital art. I do most of my art viewing through books, magazines and computer screens. So I was astonished by both the visceral power of work rooted in physical materials, and the relative soullessness of even the best pieces springing from a purely digital medium.

Don't get me wrong. I love digital art. The use of software tools can facilitate compelling imagery that is not possible through traditional means. But there is a living presence latent in the deep complexity of the atomic/subatomic world that cannot be actualized through algorithm. The virtual realm can simulate only an infinitesimal fragment of the profound interbeing referred to in Thich Nhat Hahn's poetic vision.

Although it's true that the great can be the enemy of the good, in my case it's more that the cool is the enemy of the profound, and that flash is the enemy of substance. I'm finally accepting the hard truth that my compulsion to constantly share new work is as much an expression of addiction as it is of creativity. Continually feeding my short term craving with drive-through digital art is undermining my potential to satisfy the underlying hunger springing from a yearning to connect more deeply with myself and the world.

So I'm going to finally do what must be done to actually follow through on my aspiration to take on more substantive projects. For the next month and a half, I'm limiting my online expression to text except for the two collaborative projects I've committed to, A is for Avatar and Single Frame Stories.  I'll give it until Halloween and then reconsider. Given the likelihood that Linden Lab is going to to something parody-worthy between now and then, I may need someone to talk me down. Any volunteers?

A Slower Roll

I've been infatuated for months with the idea of creating three dimensional atomic-world art. My first step in that direction has been photographing table-top scenes assembled from found objects. But what I really long to do is create works that are meant to be viewed directly rather than through a photograph or video.

My first still-born attempt in that direction was a diorama flipping the archetypal King Kong tower scene by switching the gorilla and girl roles. After a little preparatory work, I realized that my 1/4 scale vision was too big for both my work space and my lackluster power tool chops. I had a number of other ideas that I took a bit farther. But I could never figure out a practical way to create something that I could pick up, move and display.

Two fortunate events came together last week that set me on what I hope is a path to a new free-standing work. The first was an introduction to the work of Joseph Cornell who created amazing pieces made from small cabinets, found objects and collage. The second was finding a small kitschy cabinet that could be an ideal base for my first project.

So far, I've removed the chicken insert, started playing around within the space of the cabinet and have done a little pre-visualization work with some collage ideas. This is going to be a much slower roll than I'm used to. I'll post more in-progress shots as it moves forward.

Before

Playing in the space

My greatest creative challenge may be yours too

My greatest creative challenge is remembering there are no rules I must follow.

Why does so much virtual world art and machinima have a similar look and feel? Is it because of platform constraints? Or maybe it's due more to imitation and incestuous inbreeding in creative communities. Both of those factors apply, but I think it's more a reflection of the psychological limitations that constrain almost every aspect of our lives.

We tend to do the same things over and again, year after year, usually without question. Over time, the infinite vista of our human potential gets narrowed to a point. We traverse time-worn paths until we've worn ruts so deep that we're in over our heads and can no longer see, little alone imagine, alternate paths. Occasionally we meet someone who's made a major intentional change in their mid-life or senior years. But they're a minority. Unfortunately, personal transformation usually requires some sort of signficant calamity such as a serious illness, job loss or other externally caused change.

We come to this sad state honestly. We have been coerced to conform since birth and baked within an educational system designed to produce cookie-cutter workers and consumers. Our culture idolizes innovation in technology, but is very intolerant of people who take more than a step or two outside of the norm. There is pressure to conform in our jobs, our social circles and our communities. But there is one sanctuary free of external pressure to comply: Our amateur creative lives. The only things holding us back in the sanctity of our studio space are the voices in our own heads.

One of the first things I loved about avatar identity was its power to facilitate positive personal change and creativity. But over time I've learned that it's just as easy to get stuck in the rut of one's virtual life as it is in the atomic. Many of the creatives I've known who were very creative two or three years ago have either left the virtual world or are now self-plagiarizing their initial breakthroughs. I often catch myself mining my past instead of creating a new future.

I've found that one quick way to get out of a creative rut is to try new tools or platforms. Personally, I've found that the more restrictive a tool, the more I'm forced to innovate. For instance, shoot your computer screen with your smart phone and edit it with a mobile application. Or try a new virtual world for your next project where you have less resources and expertise. Or jump out of the medium entirely and try your hand at a 100 word story, a series of themed tweets or even (gasp) a physical world medium.

I'm not speaking to the handful of professional artists who are perfecting their chosen craft and building careers. My advice is for the rest of us, the 99% who are creating as amateurs for the intrinsic value of the process. Our creative work is not simply a means to express ourselves, but also a practice that allows us to see ourselves and the world around us in new ways.

Try something new tonight. You'll thank me in the morning.

I Got Dibs on Creepy Doll Head Swaps

There was an interesting post on Whiskey Shots yesterday about the line between imitation and innovation. Whiskey wrote:

We are each influenced by everything we see. Taking inspiration from everything, including other artists, is a natural part of the creative process. Inspiration is essential, and it can come from anywhere. An artist incorporates that inspiration into their own vision (pardon my artsy fartsy lingo here) and creates a work that, while influenced and inspired by other things, is still truly an original work of art.

In music, it's the difference between tribute band versions of a song and covers by artists who reinterpret it through their own voice. A dozen authentic artists can create vastly different versions of a single song even though the chord progression, basic melody and lyrics are the same.

Nevertheless, there is a joy in performing or recreating faithful versions of songs we love. And in visual art, imitation is often step on the way to artistic reinterpretation. Such rote exercises seldom made it out of the studio before the internet. But since LOLCats, shared visual riffs on unoriginal themes has become common and part of the connected culture.

It ain't art, but that's okay. With one exception. I got dibs on creepy doll head swaps.

Virtual Worlds and Egalitarian Art

I've been thinking a lot about virtual art over the last week in preparation for Saturday's Meet The Artist interview. As I struggled to write the requisite artist's statement, I noticed how easy it is to fall into a pretentious state of mind:

pre·ten·tious/priˈtenCHəs/Adjective: Attempting to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, culture, etc., than is actually possessed.

Once I got over my wee self, I realized that what I value most about Second Life art isn't the high-end work of serious artists, but the everyday artistic expression that pervades the culture. It seems that just about everyone I've met who has been involved in Second Life for more than a few months posts images or machinima to media sharing sites or plays around with building or scripting inworld. It seems to me that the power of virtual identity to facilitate creative expression for the many is much more consequential than its role as a new tool for "real" artists.

I'll leave you today with two artist's statements. The first is a visual artist's statement created under my human identity last October. The second is a spoof video I bumped into yesterday on Feedly.

The Avatar Formerly Known as the Artist

My human counterpart is slated to discuss virtual art and avatar identity with art historian Rowan Derryth this Saturday June 26 from 4-5pm SLT as part of Prim Perfect's SL8B Meet the Artists' series. So I've been thinking recently about the juxtaposition of art and identity.

On one hand, if I'm an artist (using both the terms "I" and "art" loosely) then the primary medium is virtual identity. The comics, graphics, sketches and machinima are props for the larger performance art of Being Botgirl.

On the other hand, I have a hard time labeling my work as virtual outside the context of virtual identity. At least in the way that the works of artists such as Soror Nishi and Wizard Gynoid are clearly virtual because they are created entirely within a virtual world and designed to be experienced within one.

And as a fictional character, Botgirl Questi is art, not artist:

Avatar vs. Human Artistic Interpretation of Experience

I realize that some people, maybe most people, don't get the purpose of projecting a fictional avatar identity in addition to one's "real" human persona. Outside of it just being fun, I see it as a means to develop the ability to see both the world and our own experiences through multiple perspectives. Here's a small, personal example of how a single thought (Some days it all sounds like blah, blah, blah . . .) is interpreted differently through human and avatar artistic expression.

Human:

And avatar (from my last post):

We Is The New Me - Wallpaper

Here's a revised We Is The New Me image and a link the 1900 X 1200 Wallpaper version

Botgirl IRL

Continuing my less-words-more-art based approach to exploring factual, fictional, physical and digital identity (sorry Soror), here's a fun little iPhone-created exercise in mixed reality imagination:

The Art of Blur and the Infinite Game

Screen shot of new depth of field feature in Second Life mesh viewer beta

I finally got around to checking out the new depth of field capability of the mesh viewer beta. Although it's definitely not ready for practical machinima use yet, it offers a tantalizing glimpse of what a full-featured virtual camera rig might offer someday. In any case, it was really fun to just play around with the art of blur as it stands now without worrying about getting any particular result beyond a shot for this post.

The amateur can afford to lose. The expert is the man who stays put. Marshall McLuhan

Although I've toyed from time to time with doing something professionally-related with virtual worlds, I really love being an amateur enthusiast. Just as pseudonymous avatar identity provides many people with a sense of expanded personal freedom, the virtual sandbox has facilitated a similar sense of creative freedom for me. With no business purpose to serve nor customer goals to consider, I am free to go wherever the Muse takes me. I can fearlessly post even the most off-the-wall experiments and works in progress, because I'm sharing a journey rather than creating a product or bolstering a career.  In short, it allows me to enjoy my virtual life as an infinite game:

There are two kinds of games, finite and infinite games. A finite game is played for the purpose of winning, and infinite game for the purpose of continuing the play. James P. Carse

The idea of playing an infinite game doesn't preclude the possibility of external pay-offs such as money, recognition, fame or whatever.  It's just that the focus is on the intrinsic joy of the doing, rather than on the projection of some future benefit.

- In the future everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes. Andy Warhol
- In the future, everyone will be famous to 15 people. Momus
-In the future, everyone will have 15 like-minded enthusiasts to play with. Botgirl Questi

Missing: The Video

Here's the latest iteration on the concept I started fooling around with in yesterday's post. The voice on the soundtrack is Marshall McLuhan.

Missing

I've been playing around with embedding the clichéd concept of a missing person milk carton into a context related to the avatar disappeared. I'm just part of the way through the visual thinking, but wanted to share a few preliminary images and provide a window into my working process

The first  image embeds a non-realistic carton into a professionally photographed RL kitchen. The second injects a somewhat ambiguously human/avatar Botgirl into the work, contemplating the carton. 

I have a couple more iterations envisioned which I'll share here later this week. For now, if you click through to Flickr, you can see the high resolutions versions that reveal the photographic feel of the works.

Art is not Truth

Continuation of a series of posts playing around with mixed mediums, mash-ups and pop art.

Personal Identity

What Did the Cliché Say to the Mixed Metaphor?

Marshall McLuhan wrote that each new communication medium eventually transforms society's perception of those that came before. He also described how the combination of multiple clichés can transcend the individual origins and bring to light something fresh and new. I've been playing around with that idea for the past week and will be posting a series of images and brief essays around that idea. 

PhysicalVirtualFigureGround

Art, like games, is a translation of experience. What we have already felt or seen in one situation we are suddenly given in a new kind of material. 

The art of remaking the world eternally new is achieved by careful and delicate dislocation of ordinary perceptions. 

Marshall McLluhan

A Visual Contemplation of Virtual Life as Pop Art

Botgirl Manga Quad

I'm still resonating with ideas and images kicked up by a weekend watching Andy Warhol documentaries and Banksy's Exit Through the Gift Shop. I'm suddenly seeing the digital world as a pop art microcosm of the physical world. Looking closely, the shiny artifice of virtual life shifts into a funhouse mirror that reveals otherwise unseen aspects of human existence.