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Interesting Audio Stories

Patrick McManus Audiobook Sample - from The Night the Bear Ate Goombaw

The most important part of an audio story is the story itself. In other media, various other senses are stimulated, but the audio story only has our auditory sense to stimulate. So first and foremost, the story must be good, it must captivate. This is why yarns and mysteries make for such great audio stories, as far as fiction goes. Plot is paramount. A pitfall that is important yet difficult to avoid is simply recording someone telling a story. The medium of audio for the distribution of stories has it’s own conventions. One cannot simply record a written story and expect it to captivate. The voice of the story is important in this regard. A good voice will go a long way. The printed story is written in a printed tone. The audio story must be recorded in the tone of someone telling a story. When your grandpa read you a storybook, you probably fell asleep, but when grandpa told you a story, you were captivated. It’s not that grandpas have better stories than story books, it’s the method of distribution. It’s the conversational tone. I don’t mind listening to podcasts about current events or special topics, but the audio stories that resonate with and captivate me the most are yarns--real life tall tales.

I love the stories of Patrick F. McManus. They conjure memories of the long car rides of my childhood and adolescence. I became so used to the narrator, Tom, that when I was given a printed copy of one of McManus's books, I couldn't read it. I wanted to hear the stories, not read them. We had several of his audiobooks and listened to them on road trips--which were frequent during my childhood. The combination of a clever writing--mostly comical yarns--and creative and engaging narration made for fascinating audio stories. Whenever the term "audio stories" is spoken, many people think of the old radio mysteries before the popularity of television. I instantly think of listening to Pat McManus audio books. What makes them great--beyond the stories themselves--is how captivating Tom Stechschulte is, not just a narrator, but a true voice actor. Listen to the short audio sample, and you'll be want for more. 

Reflection

My goal as a Mormon artist is to be a Mormon and an artist. I don’t plan to produce content for the church--although I’m certainly not against it. I want to produce technically sound and aesthetically pleasing content which is wholesome but never sugarcoats the realities of the human experience, with all it’s struggles and beauties. The interview with Kelly addressed this subject. There is a definite and important place for religion and faith in personal identity, but we must also address and come to terms with our primal nature. The field of psychology is fascinating and can answer many of the questions we have about ourselves, and should never be discounted or made subsidiary to religious teachings. Kelly put these two supposedly opposing fields into a nice harmony. I’m a naturalist and a Mormon. I recognize the contradictions, but it is possible for two contradictory theories to be true at the same time.

The collaborative process has always been a difficult thing for me. John Jacob Astor said that if you want something done, hire someone; if you want something done right, do it yourself. I have a hard time letting people help me. Not because I don’t want help, or because I think I can do a better job than others could, it’s because I am very particular about what the work that I produce says about me. How my work represents and portrays me is an important issue to me. I would rather not turn something in than turn something in that is mediocre and not an adequate reflection of my ability and creative motivations. By that same token, I want my work to be a representation of me, and not diluted by the contribution of others. I must get rid of these ideas if I am to progress in the BYU film program, as collaborative as it is. This project was good practice. I had my idea that I pitched for the project. I had it all planned out, and felt like I could have done it alone. However, it didn’t work out, and I was back at square one. Luckily, I was in a good group and we were able to plan and produce the project together. I enjoyed the experience.

Photo Essay - Blog 4

This is my community. It is where I commune. It is the common space, but--to me--there is nothing “common” about it. It is where I live. Sleeping and dressing takes place in my bedroom, academics and such take place in my den, but the living takes place in the living room. There is not much in the room, but there is enough to understand much about how I live. 

Here it is. I don’t know that guy on the floor. He was just there--we’re very welcoming to transients.

The most comfortable couches I’ve ever owned. Also the only couches I’ve ever owned.

These are my children. Aren’t they beautiful. The Johnson on the right is the first guitar I ever bought, and has a special place in my heart. The majority of my heart, however, belongs to the Ibanez on the left.

Look at her. She wears a sexy flamed maple top and sides. Her solid mahogany neck leads right to her abalone rosette. She arches her back to better resonate the harmonious tones she creates. 

And here is the perfect companion for my baby. It fills the room and massages your eardrums with the warmest of amplified acoustic ambiance. 

That Xbox has been sitting there for over a year. It has never once been plugged in.

A small sampling of my blu-ray collection. You can't borrow them, but all are welcome to come and enjoy a viewing.

This is a TV.

I didn’t think that taking pictures of my living space would have any effect on me. I spend a great deal of time in that room. Many blessed memories--and some debaucheries--have taken place there. It is my home. However, after photographing it in an attempt to capture it’s character, I realized how vain the attempt was. Looking at the photographs makes it seem so static and antiseptic, lacking character. To me, it’s not just a living room, it is a room that lives. There is always something going on, and capturing it in its naked state feels exploitative. When you look at the photos, you see things. When I look at them, I feel things. It’s aesthetics versus emotions. Thus, it is difficult for me publish these photos, simply because they do not due justice. They are a facade. But, here they are anyway. These are my things, this is my living space. 

Mormon Artist Podcast

Some Lady that Quilts

Is this thing on?

Feedback is extremely important, but it's also the scariest part of the creative process. You've created something, poured your heart and soul into it, done your best, and now you put it out there for someone to critique. Do your goals and intentions come through in your work? What did they like, and--scary!--what didn't they like? I love what Anne Lamott said about if someone doesn't like your work, then they are a terrible human being, and probably doesn't know anything about art or literature. In short, they have no redeemable qualities. This is comical, but exposes our natural reaction to feedback that's anything less than praise nearing worship. "Well of course it's a masterpiece, thanks for reviewing it for me!" That's what we all want--and expect--to hear, but it will rarely come. So we must follow Anne's advice about seeking out someone who we already know and trust, someone who is comfortable being honest with us. We may not always get positive feedback, but the feedback should be constructive and gracious. If it isn't, then choose someone who is sensitive to the process. On the other hand, it's important not to ask feedback from those who aren't willing to give you honest feedback. Padding your ego and coddling you will do nothing for your progress as an artist. So don't ask your mom. Finding a person whom we trust to give us feedback on our work is an important--often overlooked--quest as an artist.

My goal for receiving feedback is finding someone who I respect as an artist, someone who has a similar creative vision, and is experienced in the field and form of my work. I expect them to be completely honest in their feedback, yet sensitive to the fact that my work is an extension of myself. My initial response is usually similar to Anne Lamott's. I reject the changes and dismiss what they say. However, I've learned to set it aside for a while until I've calmed down, then return to it with a fresh attitude. I find this to be an effective exercise. My goal is to seek out why they didn't like or understand a particular section, and get to the root of why, and then fix the underlying problems, instead of just accepting the changes or alterations that they suggested. You know the inner workings of your story or work, and are the chief architect. The feedback and suggestions you get are valuable, but instead of just accepting them, figure out what prompted the feedback, and fix the underlying issues.

In class, I learned that not everybody has something valuable to say. Some people are ignorant and do not understand your work, the creative process, or anything that has to do with real life in general. However, there are also those who have great, positive, valuable feedback.

Representing Belief

“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.” -Aristotle, Metaphysics

It is natural to reject ideas and beliefs that are unfamiliar to us. We are comfortable with what we know and subscribe to, and are inherently resistant to things that may "shatter" our beliefs.  This does not make us bad people, it makes us human. But what does it mean to be human?  This is what Marilynne Robinson explores in her essay. A large part of religious belief deals with who and what we are as human beings. "If my beliefs are wrong, then I am nothing!" This is frightening. This is why we defend our beliefs with such vehemence. It's not that we hate groups with different belief systems or view them as heathens, it's that we cling so desperately to our own that there is no room for any others. It's about protection--protecting our understanding of what and who we are. Identity is the premier human need. And once we have a sense of identity, we cling to it militantly. 

So the first key, then, is to analyze and break down our own beliefs. We must be able to discuss beliefs as our own and not as they are prescribed to us. Dogma will always be rejected by someone who does not share your beliefs. But nobody can deny human experience: “I believe these things because I have had such-and-such experiences.” And once we get there, we must recognize that other humans believe differently because they have experienced differently. Any Muslim can testify just as passionately that Islam is the truth as you can that Mormonism is the truth. So who is right? You both are. Yes. It is possible for two paradoxical things to both be true at the same time. So now that you’re both right, you can have an intellectual discussion about the ins and outs of the human condition. And both are mutually edified together.

I’ve had this experience many times. Several of my former coworkers are virulent atheists, as is my current roommate. They all licked their chops at the opportunity to crush my beliefs and convert me to atheism. None of them succeeded. Nor did I succeed in convincing them of the existence of deity. After several discussions, we accepted each other as intellectuals with foundations for our beliefs and have high respect for each other’s faith system. And since reaching this point of mutual intellectual respect, we have had some fascinating and enlightening discussions about humanity, about the cosmos, about science, miracles, creation, procreation, and about ethics. But we had to get to a point of mutual intellectual respect before anything worthwhile came from our discussions. The instant you discount another person’s beliefs, you kill any chance of sharing your own with any efficacy. Seek to learn and understand the basis of other beliefs, you’ll gain the respect of it’s believers who will more readily listen to your own.

Being a Mormon Artist

There are 2 main challenges that we face as Mormon artists. The first is being accepted as legitimate by the outside world. The world views us as non-alcoholic beverages. We're fun and flavorful, but there's no real substance. If you want the real thing, you have to order the real thing. This reductive analysis of LDS culture is tough to fight, and it's a real challenge to enlighten the world if we don't put out something with real substance. What is this "real substance"? Humanity. Human nature. The duality of man. In our effort to portray the perfection of the gospel and the beauty of our unique experience, we often fall into the pit of only showing the good. We remove the "human" element--true human emotion and imperfection--so as not to taint the beauty of the message. This strips our work of legitimacy. It becomes only a facade, devoid of substance. We must show ourselves as we really are--imperfect, but real, with real human emotion and real human experiences--and not be scared to do so. 

The second great challenge is being accepted as legitimate within the LDS community. I recently read an essay explaining why it is improbable that LDS publishers will ever establish a tradition of real Mormon literary art. The author's main point was that the publishing and distribution of Mormon literature--and by that extension film as well--is a business, governed by economics and market research. The demographic that consumes LDS media is generally well-rounded and cultured but the most vocal subset of that demographic--which also happens to be the smallest percentage of the whole--tyrannically and vehemently controls the selection, production, and distribution of said media. They disregard anything that does not fit their limited definition of decorum, which is generally not in accordance with the gospel principles they purport to believe. So in order to create according to their standards, we must remove any "real" human emotion or experience from our work.

Yes, it is a paradox. It's as if we cannot please both those in the church and those without. What are we to do? We must choose priestcraft or apostasy? What are we to do? The answer, in my humble opinion, is to create true to ourselves. If we create art that is honest to who we are, what we experience, how we feel, where we fall short, and what we believe, we will create something with substance. The outside world will recognize truth, and the inner circles of LDS culture will recognize humanity. There will still be those who mock and those who scorn, but the majority of people--within and without LDS culture--will respect our work for its artistic elements and its truth. Be yourself; be real.

As to where we find stories of light, I think it more important to find light in the stories we find. Inspiration is subjective. There are many places to find uplifting and enlightening stories, we need not look far. It is also important to avoid stories of darkness. But these lie at far extremes on the continuum of stories, and represent a minuscule percentage of what is available. A more valuable ability to cultivate is that of finding light in the stories that lie along the vast majority of the continuum, between the extremes.

'Slim Art

What did I learn about my own creative tendencies? That my creative tendencies are infantile. The exhibit made my most impressive and proud work look like refrigerator art. And that’s saying something, because I have a 3 paintings hanging in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Picasso’s Guernica hung only 23 feet from my magnum opera--until 1981, of course, when Guernica was returned to Spain. Were Pablo still alive, I’m sure he’d be honored.

But enough about me...

I was excited for this assignment. I was planning on going to the exhibit anyway. Mostly because I’m refined and cultured and appreciate that sort of thing, but also because many of the Muslim dignitaries that were here for the opening last week were guests at my hotel. They’re a silly bunch. Not really, though. But it was fascinating to talk to them, they were very impressed with and proud of the exhibit. And many of them were very excited at the prospect of meeting the “Mormon Prophet,” who was rumored to attend the opening. 

One thing I loved about the artwork was how much it incorporated the written word. The exhibit said “the letter is the vessel for the sacred meaning, and this vessel was made as beautiful as possible so that its beauty is worthy of belief.” The various fonts of calligraphy and the intricate decorations on the pages of Qur'an manuscripts were not only extremely artistic and beautiful, but you could feel the faith of the artist. Great art abounds from all nations and eras. But I don’t think I have ever seen art with this amount of piety. There is no way the artists could have sanely completed works such as these without a deep abiding faith in their creator. The attention to detail and symmetry on these manuscript pages glorifies God. God is perfect, and the originators sought to spread His perfect word with the most beauty and perfection that they could aspire to. The motivation for these works was not monetary, and that’s the most fascinating thing. The sole purpose was to create a beautiful medium in which to spread the word of God. 

The rest of the art was beautiful and mesmerizing to behold, but none of it truly inspired me as did the written work. It humbled me to consider how much love a believer must have in their faith to produce something of that quality to edify God. The closest thing I can equate it to is the artistry inside the Salt Lake temple. The original furnishings and decoration--particularly in the Celestial room--are intricate and spiritually stirring in their beauty. To think on the situation the Saints at the time, the greatness of the project and the perfection to which they completed it is truly inspiring. We revere those artisan saints and wonder at the beauty of their work, and recognize the grandeur of their faith in God and faith in the restoration. Surely the faith of the Muslim artisans is on par with that of our pioneer forefathers. Certainly 1.6 billion people gotta be right about something. 

Charlene

Chuck was raised like the rest of us. But he didn’t turn out like the rest of us. We were neighbors. His father was a banker; his mother a homemaker. Back then, she was just like Joan Cleaver-- cleaning the house and cooking in a dress and pearls, always smiling. But when Chuck decided he also liked wearing dresses and pearls, things changed. See, Chuck idolized his mom, and did everything she did. His father refused to have a queer son. Maybe if he’d been around more, things would have turned out different. His mom couldn’t handle Chuck alone so she found an opiate escape. The Destroyer of Grief the ancients called it. Seems to me like it caused more grief than it ever destroyed. There’s certainly a lot of grief today. Enough to bring us all back here. I haven’t been home in 15 years. I feel guilty that it took something so tragic and ugly to bring me back. Chuck and I both left home at eighteen and never looked back. The city stole us. For me it was the money; for him, the acceptance, the like-minded. Chuck followed in his mother’s footsteps alright. He became her. The pearls and heels. The powder and pills. I would see him occasionally in the city and we’d have lunch, catch up, and talk about the good ol’ days. He never spoke of his parents, though. He went by Charlene then. I got used to it, that’s why it’s so weird to see him lying here today in a men’s suit and short hair. I assume his father thought that if he was buried as a man, he would be remembered as a man. He was dead and they were killing him all over again. Chuck died; Charlene was murdered.

Red

http://vimeo.com/36462183

Abs Irving The Yore Dinner "E"

One reason digital media is particularly suited for observing the ordinary is because it is cheaper and easier to produce and distribute than traditional forms. With the availability of digital media tools, everyone can participate in the creation of digital media. Nowadays any amateur can buy a DSLR, move to Provo, and call himself/herself a professional photographer. Unfortunately, the market is overrun with "professional" photographers, so they are left to photograph the ordinary and post terabytes worth of ordinary pictures onto blogs and popular social networking sites, like Friendster and Hi5.

Also, digital media platforms are a great distribution medium for students--such as ourselves-- and other aspiring artists to cheaply and easily publish material. I can't afford to have my short film published on 35mm reels and send to all my family members and friends to watch. But I can afford to post digital copies on YouTube and Facebook to share, not only with friends and family, but the world. Also, I can't afford to stage a large production on a professional set, but I can film my nephew's birthday party with my HandyCam and cut it with a cheap NLE. The ordinary events of life are at my disposal for practicing my craft, and digital media platforms are ideal for distributing the content captured from those ordinary moments. 

An Ode to Dark Matter

Dark Matter, you are so ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that I rarely even notice you. You carry on, without fanfare, taking up 83% of the Universe. Though unnoticed and under appreciated, you do not complain, no. You are humble, meek, and full of love. You are love. Are you love? Are you the burning in my chest? 

You are the missing 23% of my mass energy.

Dark Matter, can I see you? But how? Ayahuasca will make me sick. I am not a shaman. Best to see you naturally. I dream of you. I dream through you. You are the medium of dreams. My pineal, free at night, releases DMT, and I see. We see. I see we. We are me and you are beautiful. I smell your colors and taste your music. I feel your touch, you are everywhere. 

You are the light of the tunnel. You are the alien abduction. You are shared.

You are the other realm.

You are here.

And yet, you remain hidden.

Dark.

But you matter, Dark Matter.

You matter to me.

Dark Matter, Hubble Space Telescope, 2011

Social Media Storytelling - The Return

http://i.imgur.com/4Aqe1.jpg

Banksy - Street Art for Change

Banksy is a street artist (or graffiti artist, if you prefer) from England. Banksy is a pseudonym. He uses the pseudonym Banksy party to avoid getting caught, but mostly because his art is not meant to glorify the artist, it's to serve as social commentary. It's supposed to make you think. His art is mostly satirical, and commonly uses stencils. His work ranges in size from a small rat on a street sign, to the entire side of a large office building.

Banksy's art has addressed political topics such as anti-war, anti imperialism and anti-capitalism. "We can't do anything to change the world until capitalism crumbles. In the meantime we should all go shopping to console ourselves." His art has addressed philosophical topics like nihilism and existentialism. Mostly, he utilizes well-known icons and images as social commentary, addressing things such as greed, hypocrisy, poverty, and excessive lifestyles. 

Banksy art has become the best known and most recognizable street art ever. Some of his pieces go for tens of thousands of dollars at art auctions. It's ironic that collectors and celebrities pay so much for the art that mocks them and their excessive lifestyles. 

The primary purpose of his art is to make people think. His use of iconography as satirical social commentary doesn't necessarily advocate anything. But it breeds awareness, which leads to action. Banksy made big news when he did several pieces on the enormous cement barrier wall that separates the West Bank from Israel. This brought a lot of attention to the situation. It drew many photographers who wanted to capture his art. The photographers then photographed the lives of the people and shared plight with the world.

There is a fantastic documentary about Banksy and the rise of street art called Exit Through the Gift Shop. It premiered at Sundance in 2010 (In preparation for the premier, he painted several pieces around Salt Lake and Park City). The documentary was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Documentary.

Banksy's website

Gaming Back to Health

“No reading, no writing, no video games, no computer time, no running, and no caffein, so, in other words, no reason to live.” - Jane McGonigal, developer of Superbetter

On the Media - Gaming Back to Health

Using video games to recover from serious illness and injury?

I started listening to On the Media podcasts as part of a class last year. In September, they interviewed a game developer who created a gaming/social media experience to recover from a serious concussion. It intrigued me, as I was also recovering from a severe head injury. The story of her struggle to recover (along with a similar experience of one of the show's producers) resonated with me. I did a lot of research about the game and the theory behind it, and continue to read the producer's blog about his ongoing experiences using the game in his recovery.

The story is interesting because Jane McGonigal has created a video game that helps people recover from illness and injury. We often separate the fields of entertainment and medicine. And we certainly separate the world of video games from anything productive. The efficacy of positive emotional experiences in the recovery process has long been recognized. Superbetter seeks to create this positive experience using media we are familiar with.

The medium of the story is interesting because it echoes the content of the story. This story pulls from sources of many mediums. The link is to a blog post, with an embeded clip from a radio show that played an audio segment from an online video presentation by McGonigal as well as the live on-air interview. All these converge in a concise story that we can read, listen to online, or download and listen to later. Similarly, with Superbetter, the fields of medicine, technology, psychology, and gaming and social media converge to provide a valuable tool for people to reach health goals. It is the story of interactive healing told through interactive media.