Category Archives: creativity

The Law of Diminishing Returns….

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After blogging about false economies last week, a similar topic came to mind – the law of diminishing returns. This is the principle that suggests the longer you keep doing the same thing, the less benefit you derive from it.

I know from personal experience that continuing to work at something for any length of time can lead to a decline in results – fatigue sets in, I’m more prone to making mistakes, and I end up spending more time double-checking and correcting my work. So, in way, it’s another false economy – spending more hours on a task (the input) does not justify the amount of effort, or guarantee the quality of the end results (the output). Part of it is down to efficiencies, but it’s also to do with losing focus, being distracted, or being so intent on the “doing” and not the “achieving”.

Politicians, writers, musicians, artists, athletes are all susceptible to the law of diminishing returns. Doggedly repeating the same old slogans in pursuit of the same old policies (or trying to hold on to power for its own sake) lead political parties into stagnation and electoral dead ends. Successful athletes who don’t know when to hang up their boots rarely get to choose the timing of their retirement. Creatives who keep recording the “same” album, writing the “same” novel, making the “same” film, or painting the “same” picture come across as stale, formulaic, tired, boring and bereft of ideas – it’s clear that they have nothing new to say, so why should we keep paying attention?

Next week: Whose side is AI on?

 

 

Ballarat International Foto Biennale (BIFB)

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This past weekend saw the opening of the 10th Ballarat Internationale Foto Biennale. The overarching theme this year is “The Real Thing”, recognising the impact that digital, AI, NFTs and image manipulation are having on the visual arts in general, and the photographic medium in particular.

The highlight of the first weekend was the keynote presentation by Platon, one of the most high-profile and prolific portrait photographers of our age, famous for his images of political figures, popular icons, and social activists. Given that Platon works mostly with traditional 35mm film and captures living subjects, his work certainly deals with the “real” thing.

At the end of the first day, visitors were also treated to a Victorian magic lantern presentation, combining authentic analog apparatus, multi-media components and live performance. For audiences of the day, such events would have been their first encounter with moving images and projections – which we take for granted in our screen-obsessed culture.

As with any festival on this scale and duration, there is a wide range of work on display. This is especially so outside the Core Program, with the Outdoor and Open Programs taking on the challenging task of representing different aesthetics, styles, techniques, subject matter, and as such they reflect varying levels of quality and competence.

It wasn’t possible to see all of the exhibitions in the first two days – and some works don’t go on display until later in the program – but for me, the highlights beyond the major Platon show included: Stephen Dupont‘s happy accidents; Jon Setter‘s stunning abstract images of Ballarat; several of the works by regional photographers curated by Jeff Moorfoot; the scattered works by the Oculi Collective; and the display presented by the Australian Association of Street Photographers Inc.

Some exhibitions were less successful: I really wanted to engage with William Yang‘s work, but the unfocused curation and haphazard presentation undermined any appreciation of the images and their underlying narrative; Erik Johansson‘s highly stylised images are humorous and surreal, but they can also come across as very superficial, so we are left marvelling at the surface technique rather than any depth behind the work; and while it was nice to see some of Andy Warhol‘s original Polaroids, they were presented with very limited context, as if they were an afterthought (the fact that they are probably the earliest works in the whole festival may have something to do with them feeling out of place, as well as out of time).

It is easy to see how some photographers could get constrained, either by their subject matter, or by their technique. Working with self-imposed limitations should be positive. Using fewer tools can drive creativity (“less is more”). Having less time can result in better outcomes (“the first take is usually the best take”). Innovation comes from exploring our curiosity. Inventiveness is the result of challenging ourselves through problem-solving. However, an artist can reveal themselves to be a one-trick pony, or their technical expertise overwhelms the output (“form over substance”). Sometimes, the narrative or subject matter is more important than the quality of the image, but just as a crappy technique can impair a great image, a perfect technique cannot compensate for a poor composition.

The notion of “reality” prompts us to consider what is a photograph? The fact that most modern photos are captured on a smart phone rather then a camera simply confirms that not all photographic images need to be created using a dedicated physical device (think of photograms). And since most photos are digital rather than on film means we are not limited to think of photography as a combination of manual, chemical and mechanical processes.

However, some of the work on display does challenge the definition of “photography”, especially in the context of art. For example, an image can be surreal or satirical, but when does that stray into being fake news? Equally, even though professionals like Platon render their work in a digital environment during the post-production process, should a composite of stock images manipulated using Adobe Photoshop qualify as a work of photographic art (or is it a mere illustration)? And with the growth of AI tools to generate images (which raises questions of authorship, copyright and attribution), should their use be disclosed and identified (just as paintings, sculptures and other art works are catalogued by their materials, processes and editioning)?

In the early days of music CDs, the recording industry developed the “SPARS code”. Letter combinations such as “AAD”, “ADD”, and “DDD” are intended to inform listeners that the music has been recorded, mixed and mastered using either analog or digital processes and equipment. Perhaps something similar should be considered for photography and digital art?

Next week: Banking Blues (pt. 481)

Music streaming is so passé…

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Streaming services have changed the way we listen to music, and not just in the way the content is delivered (primarily via mobile devices), or the sheer number of songs available for our listening pleasure (whole catalogues at our fingertips).

These streaming platforms (which have been with us for more then 15 years) have also led to some more negative consequences: the deconstruction of albums into individual tracks (thereby undermining artists’ intention to present their work as a whole, rather than its component parts); shifting the relationship we have with our music collections from “ownership” to “renting”; paying paltry levels of streaming fees compared to royalties on physical sales and downloads; pushing suggested content via opaque algorithms and “recommender engines” rather than allowing listener self-discovery; squashing music into highly compressed audio formats, thus impairing the listening quality; and reducing album cover art work and design into tiny thumbnail images that don’t do justice to the original. (If you can’t appreciate the significance and importance of album art work, this forthcoming documentary may change your mind.)

Of course, streaming is not the only way to consume music – we still have vinyl, CDs and even cassettes in current production. (And let’s not forget radio!) Although optimistic numbers about the vinyl revival of recent years have to be put in the context of the streaming behemoths, there is no doubt that this antique format still has an important role to play, for new releases, the box-set and reissue industry, and the second-hand market.

For myself, I’ve largely given up on Spotify and Apple Music: with the former, I don’t think there is enough transparency on streaming fees (especially those paid to independent artists and for self-released recordings) or how more popular artists and their labels can pay to manipulate the algorithms, plus the “recommendations” are often out of kilter with my listening preferences; with the latter, geo-blocking often means music I am looking for is not available in Australia. (As I am writing, Spotify is playing a track which has been given the wrong title, proving that their curation and editorial quality is not perfect.)

Streaming can also be said to be responsible for a type of content narrowcasting – the more often a song is streamed (especially one that has been sponsored or heavily promoted by a record label) the more often it will appear in suggested playlists. Some recent analysis by Rob Abelow suggests that fewer than 10% of songs on the Spotify billion stream club were released before 2000. This may have something to do with listener demographics (e.g., digital natives), but it also suggests that songs only available as streams (i.e., no download or physical release), or songs heavily marketed by labels wanting to promote particular content to a specific audience, will come to dominate these platforms.

Further evidence of how streaming is skewed towards major artists is a recent post by Damon Krukowski, showing how independent musicians like him are being “encouraged” to be more like megstars such as Ed Sheeran. Never mind the quality of the music, just think about the “pre-saves” and “countdown pages” (tools which are not yet available to every artist on Spotify?).

I’ve been using both Bandcamp and Soundcloud for more than 10 years, to release my own music and to discover new content. I began with Soundcloud, but soon lost my enthusiasm because they kept changing their business model, and they enabled more popular artists to dominate the platform with “premium” services and pay-to-play fees that favour artists and labels with bigger marketing budgets. Whereas Bandcamp appears to be doing a better job of maintaining a more level playing field in regard to artist access, and a more natural way for fans to connect with artists they already know, and to discover new music they may be interested in.

But all of this simply means that streaming has possibly peaked, at least as an emerging format. The industry is facing a number of challenges. Quite apart from ongoing disputes about royalty payments and album integrity, streaming is going to be disrupted by new technologies and business models, thanks to blockchain, cryptocurrencies and non-fungible tokens. These startups are going to improve how artists are remunerated for their work, create better engagement between creators and their audiences, and provide for more transparent content discovery and recommendations. Elsewhere, the European Union is considering ways to preserve cultural diversity, promote economic sustainability within the music industry, remove the harmful effects of payola, make better use of content metadata for things like copyright, creativity and attribution, and provide clear labeling on content that has been created using tools like AI.

Just for the record, I’m not a huge fan of content quotas (a possible outcome from the EU proposals), but I would prefer to see better ways to discover new music, via broadcast and online media, which are not dependent on regimented Top 40 playlists, the restrictive formats of ubiquitous TV talent shows, or record label marketing budgets. Australia’s Radio National used to have a great platform for new and alternative music, called Sound Quality, but that came off air nearly 10 years ago, with nothing to replace it. Elsewhere, I tune into BBC Radio 6 Music’s Freak Zone – not all of it is new music, but there is more variety in each 2 hour programme than a week’s listening on most other radio stations.

Next week: More Cold War Nostalgia

 

Digital Perfectionism?

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In stark contrast to my last blog on AI and digital humans, I’ve just been reading Damon Krukowski‘s book, “The New Analog – Listening and Reconnecting in a Digital World”, published in 2017. It’s an essential text for anyone interested in the impact of sound compression, noise filtering, loudness and streaming on the music industry (and much more besides).

The are two main theses the author explores:

1. The paradoxical corollary to Moore’s Law on the rate of increase in computing power is Murphy’s Moore’s Law: that in striving for improved performance and perfectionism in all things digital, equally we risk amplifying the limitations inherent in analog technology. in short, the more something improves, the more it must also get worse. (See also my previous blogs on the problem of digital decay, and the beauty of decay music.)

2. In the realm of digital music and other platforms (especially social media), stripping out the noise (to leave only the signal) results in an impoverished listening, cultural and social experience; flatter sound, less dynamics, narrower tonal variation, limited nuance, an absence of context. In the case of streaming music, we lose the physical connection with the original artwork, accompanying sleeve notes, creative credits and even the original year of publication.

Thinking about #1 above, imagine this principle applied to #AI: would the pursuit of “digital perfectionism” mean we lose a large part of what makes analogue homo sapiens more “human”? Would we end up compressing/removing “noise” such as doubt, uncertainty, curiosity, irony, idiosyncrasies, cognitive diversity, quirkiness, humour etc.?

As for #2, like the author, I’m not a total Luddite when it comes to digital music, but I totally understand his frustration (philosophical, phonic and financial) when discussing the way CDs exploit “loudness” (in the technical sense), how .mp3 files compress more data into less space (resulting in a deterioration in overall quality), and the way streaming platforms have eroded artists’ traditional commercial return on their creativity.

The book also discusses the role of social media platforms in extracting value from the content that users contribute, reducing it to homogenised data lakes, selling it to the highest bidder, and compressing all our personal observations, relationships and original ideas (the things that make us nuanced human beings) into a sterilsed drip-feed of “curated” content.

In the narrative on music production, and how “loudness” took hold in the mid-1990s, Krukowski takes specific aim at the dreaded sub-woofer. These speakers now pervade every concert, home entertainment system, desk-top computer and car stereo. They even bring a distorted physical presence into our listening experience:

“Nosebleeds at festivals, trance states at dance clubs, intimidation by car audio…. When everything is louder than everything else, sounds lose context and thus meaning – even the meaning of loud.”

The main issue I have with digital music is that we as listeners have very little control over how we hear it – apart from adjusting the volume. So again, any nuance or variation has been ironed out, right to the point of consumption – we can’t even adjust the stereo balance. I recall that my boom box in the 1980s had separate volume controls for each speaker, and a built-in graphic equalizer. To paraphrase Joy Division, “We’ve Lost Control”.

Next week: I CAN live without my radio…