Harsh lines in the blue.
May 04Nature never stops to amaze me with its beauty. Barely forgotten were the sandy beaches of Sangatte where rows of wooden poles broke the rippling sand-dunes of the desolated beach, when on monday, we entered the city of Maastricht. There we where confronted with different patterns. Patterns designed by man. Designed by very talented architects who helped transform these greasy back-streets into designer docksides full of new apartments and shops. On one side of the river we find new shops and avenues that rip the centre of town wide open and let the people spill out onto the classy docksides. On the other side of the river a leisurly park glides across the bank with small apartments dotting the horizon. In the middle a stark steel cable bridge that binds the borders to the clouds. Too nice to pass up on I pulled out my digital camera and shot some pictures. Enjoy the city of Maastricht under a start blue sky.
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Timewarp : A post from the Knightwise Website April 25th 2005
May 03
I would love to hear the sound one day… Of how things once used to be.
Of ring tones drowned out by the sounds of a ticking clock.
Pings of MSN absent as only the chimes of the hours ring over the wooden floors.
The hum of the computer is only the gentle flicker of an oil lamp.
and the sound of the microwave is now the sudden pop and hiss of wood in the fireplace.
No cars, no mopeds.. A ring of a bicycle bell and distant horses in the background.
A salesman in a far away street … selling chestnuts in the gentle rain.
The laptop on my hands turns into an old book.. Both full of textures and aromas from fascinating stories as long gone as the time I am in right now.
No cd roms and hard drives.. Just stacks and stacks of books… wall to wall all around me.
I smell the musky air of carpets cleaned with salt and sweat. Hear the gentle thud of bare feet shuffling over the staircase. As the enters only the creak of the lock floats in the silence and the rustle of her robes.
Her scent wraps itself around me even before her gentle hands touch my cheek. "Hello my love .." She whispers. " I have brought you the evening paper and sent the servants home. No one will come for us tonight"
I lay my hand upon her frail form and look into the eyes of the one that the servants call "milady". I smile at her and recite the poem I once learned long ago.
You and me my love .. In the silence of our souls we are the only sounds there are to hear.
I suddenly jerk awake at the sound of an Ibook running low on power... Back in the 21st century.. Surrounded by the information age Communication channels crawling around my leggs like hissing snakes.. Their poison the evil of disturbance and distraction. I sigh…How I long for that dream called… “ Incommunicado. “
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Brussels in Motion.
May 03A nice set of pictures taken in the trainstation of Brussels this morning.
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Cafetarians.
May 03
The landscape rushes by alongside me.. Steel bars too heavy to lift by one man alone seem to dance effortlessly alongside my window. Diverting, converting, intertwining. The gentle rocking motion reminds me that gravity and all of Newtons laws still apply to the outside world, right before my thoughts drift away in zero G.The rays of dawn roll over the waking world as I am swept away by the pure magic of motion. The gentle sensation of realizing how wondrous it is to travel is as soothing as the fading taste of the cappuccino i had in the stations cafeteria. A place filled with absolute strangers, somehow in limbo between the early dawn and the rushing life of everyday. I sit and wonder where they are all going. What brings them here. How they differ from the hurried businessman that jogs through the crowd in order to catch his train on time.
The "cafetarians" as we can call them appear to have the superpower to slow down time. Their movements slow and leisurely, flirting with slow-motion . Their eyes glazing over into stares that pierce some unknown void. The sound bustling footsteps, departure announcements, and rattling trains seem to remain oblivious to them. Perhaps you can call some of them lazy, or bums, or both ? I must admit some of them do appear to fit that bill. Having your second beer at 6.45 am is hardly a trait you would like to have on your resume. And their lack of motion in comparison to the rushing dawn can hardly be called pro-active. But .. perhaps there is more to it then meets the eye.
Let us look at the average morning of the businessman. He gets up late, grabs a shower and swings the expensive Armani suit over his still damp body. Everything dries in time, he mumbles. As he hastily shoves a handful of dry cereal into his mouth he cannot help to resist the urge to rattle the kitchen drawers to wake up his wife. His brow knots in frustration as he pointlessly wishes she could have made him a full irish breakfast before he left and he looks for his suitcase. Its of to work, in the car to the train-station. His car radio still queued on the last track of some kids pop-band he cannot help but endure the chorus to an insanely stupid song that his youngest daughter loves to sing along to. He feverishly looks for the knob and switches to the news. Darn.. He just missed it which can only mean he's gonna be late. 5 minutes later he races through the stations hallway past the cafeteria. With an icy sweep of his eyes he surveys the "cafetarians" who appear to have all the time in the world. "Bums" he thinks as he looks into the eyes of a young man looking up from a bright white laptop. "Whats He looking at ?" Barely sixty seconds later the train-doors whoosh to a close as he slams down in the seat, opens his briefcase and starts to worry about work. A sigh of frustration escapes him. Wishing he could be a cafetarian for a day. To just sit there and watch the world go by while having a cappuccino.
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The art of user contributed content.
May 02
The art of user contributed content. It is dawn, as the city still slumbers the blue stark sky is tainted with the orange hue of the first sun. While the refreshing chill clamps desperately to the air around me, silence dances in my ears. "My Kyoto is fantasic" is written on a bright bumper-sticker of a passing car. I briefly confuse myself in thinking that Kyoto would a be a great name for a car brand that would surely sell, before realizing its a little joke. The car is an Alpha Romeo. And judging by the state of it, it was built way before there was any mention of kyoto anywhere. I smile and walk by.. then stop .. turn around, pull out my digital camera and snap a picture of it. A shot that will end up on top of the countless flickr photos I have. A picture that might make people smile, or even be used somewhere on the internet in an article.. A brief second of my life captured in words, in images .. Set adrift on the great lake that is called cyberspace. But more importantly. If I would not have been a contributer, and merely an observer to the 'user contributed web" I might have missed that moment altogether.
The possibilities of the internet. The internet is a fantastic medium. Offering us more information then we can ever process. Even as we struggle to keep up, finding new ways to filter and aggregate information we will never be able to grasp it all. The internet gives us a link to a world wide network of chat clients, instant messaging programs, chat-rooms, forums. New and infinite ways to communicate and discuss with people all over the world. Even a IM buddy list of 20 people can keep one occupied (or distracted) for the better part of an evening. If the topics of conversation are world peace, what underwear stacy is wearing right now, or the current state of the purple hamster-wheel. The digital pathways of the net will accommodate us.
But something that has grown over the last few years that makes the internet the most wonderful medium in existence. The rise of user contributed content. The internet is no longer a collection of static websites. It has become a white canvas of gigantic proportions. A canvas that can be exhibited all over the world, simultaneously. Accessible by anyone. With a keyboard and a mouse we all become the artists. No matter if we choose to write, speak, sing, dance, paint, draw or even just BE .. The internet is there for us to express ourselves and share the artistic spark in our soul with the people of the planet. Letting the uniqueness of our own user contributed content define our very existence in the vastness of the web.
Making us see with new eyes, hear with new ears, Give us a new way to express ourselves. Having access to such a range of possibilities changes us in who we are. Not only are we exposed to the thoughts, the words, the art of countless others like ourselves. We become the artists. For me that means experiencing the worlds (both virtual and real-world) in a different way. Always looking for that angle. For that one thing that makes something special, makes something worthwhile to share. It might be the sun-rays bouncing of a building in Maastricht, the sounds of a band playing in the street. Perhaps a stray thought, an idea, a mood. Something worth sharing with the world or something that one just wants to put out there to tell people who you are. Like an artist looks at the world in a different way so does the "content contributing user". Looking for the magic in every moment. The creative possibilities of every thought every impression. The infinite combinations that can be made by infinite stimuli to create infinitely diverse content. Content that has no clear cut boundaries except for those conceived by its creator. Content as free as the spirit within us all.
The Paradox of user created content. Amazingly after two years I have seen a paradox evolve in this brave new world. A world where all of us enjoy the freedom of creation. The freedom to have free and equal access for our content to the world. Ways of sharing who we are, want we want to create and how we want to put it out there. Yet there is an unmistakable paradox where many choose to let go of the freedom of there creativity in favor of becoming just that one that we dreaded the most : More and more content contributers want to be like mainstream. And all for the purpose of enjoying the same popularity. I remember the immortal words of Adam Curry as he said 'Fuck Clearchannel radio' as he defined podcasting as the revolution in media and an explicit rebellion into all that was mainstream. But over two years into it all I see very little truth in the statements. Many free podcasters who used to "do their own thing" have now turned to join podcasting networks. Their own home-brew exploits now form factored in a certain production-straightjacket that they uphold in favor of "more listeners" and "better stats". I to have fallen pray to it all. Being blinded by numbers, by popularity. Marveled by user feedback, engrossed in "production schedules", even letting old school (washed out) radio producers giving lectures on how pod-casting should be done. But the worst thing is : I let go of my individual creativity in favor of acknowledgment of the masses.
And in the end I feel a gnawing sensations , nibbling away at the borders of my mind. The question I post myself : Have I sold my creative soul ? Could it be true I was lured away from doing my own thing in favor of fitting into the mainstream straightjacket. Was it wrong for me to lie awake and wonder 'how I should define what I do ? ' Tossing and turning to park my own creativity into some small cubicle so some podcast directory could catalogue it ? Was I wrong in presuming that one "needed to yield" to the mainstream rules that define media ? Did I offer to let go of what I did just to get more attention ? Did I turn away from who I really am in favor to be "noticed". And in the end is that not something we can all fall prey to ? Perhaps the Web 2.0 is like high-school where we all try to run with the popular kids. Where we think about image and looks instead of being true to who we are. And if so? Will we grow out of it. Will the web 2.0 reach a level of maturity where we no longer care to be dating the cheerleader and redefine the world by our own standards. If this is indeed so .. I can't wait to graduate and get away from it all… So I can be who I really am.
