las vegas: an ethnographer’s wet nightmare

Nov. 30/2007 – Adam’s presentation introduced the Kozinets article on the Burning Man festival, which offers a discussion of the pervasiveness of promotional consumer culture. Kozinets concludes, “whether in cultural capital-laden appeals to authentic communities that exist outside the market or to so-called radical self-expression that fits within subscultural and commercial norms, the urge to differentiate from other consumers drives participation at Burning Man and does not release [participants] from the grip of the market’s sign game and social logics,” (36). In other words, despite even the noblest of our efforts, it is difficult (if not impossible) to escape the influence of promotional consumer culture.

In discussing the Burning Man festival as a sort of spiritual pilgrimage, I was reminded of a music festival I once attended. Taking place in the desert of Las Vegas (well, not exactly the desert per se, but in the grassy surroundings of UNLV’s football stadium), the ‘Vegoose’ festival was a celebration of the arts (er, rock concert) rooted in an embrace of community and personal freedom (at the hardly-free cost of about $100 a day). The festival was a weekend-long celebration of eclectic style, taking place right around Halloween and inspiring some truly wacky costumes.


























What attracted me was, firstly, the fact that I had never visited Las Vegas before, followed closely by the impressive lineup of bands that would be attending. The bands were excellent, and the crowd was great too. It was strange, though; people were treating the event like it was Woodstock 2005, as though it were some major spiritual event, some deep religious pilgrimage, even though it was the first annual instance of the festival. Maybe it was the open drug use that affected everyone’s attitude, but there was a distinguishable buzz and a feeling of tolerance and community among the festival-goers. I was sober (really) and I still felt that hum of collective humanism, a refreshing and rare feeling that I hadn’t experienced in ages. But then it occurred to me: why is it that people need to spend 300 bucks to connect with one another? The freedom we felt was mediated by the manned fences that surrounded those of us who could afford to participate. Vegoose was a concert, a really good concert, but it was hardly a metaphysical retreat - everyone went back to their themed neon hotels on the Strip afterwards, and nobody’s life was changed forever (with the exception of those who probably swore off psychedelic drugs after a bad trip).

In the same way that a Britney Spears concert, while formulaic and commercialized, offers the authentic experience of a Britney Spears concert, I don’t regret spending the money on Vegoose, and I have some great memories from my encounter with expensive freedom. But I never try to fool myself that it was anything more than a massive capitalist venture, taking place in a city that exists as a monument to Western excess and artificiality.

…now with realistic needy clinging action

Nov. 23/2007 – I’m really glad that Raf showed the Barbie video in his presentation today because I have felt for years (since well before I was a CMNS student) that Barbie products represent the archetype of consumer socialization, “the process by which young people acquire skills, knowledge, and attitudes relevant to their functioning as consumers in the marketplace,” (Kline, 288). The degree to which Barbie and her vast line of related products engage in naturalizing traditional gender roles in the minds of children is as offensive as it is blatant. As such, the whole notion of Barbie’s limiting mediation of play in children is perfectly relevant to this week’s material. I’d like to show one video I came across while browsing toy ads on Youtube a few months ago:

Ah, Cool Shavin’ Ken. When will you understand that your scraggly beard is destroying your relationship with Barbie? Sure, she laughs and says it tickles, but can’t you hear the disdain in her voice? You’re lucky you’ve still got your boyish charm, man, otherwise she’d be out the door. I mean, clue in – haven’t you noticed how differently she acts towards you when you’re clean shaven? She fucking kisses you TWICE! What’s your secret, Cool Shavin’ Ken? It’s your aftershave, right? I knew it. It’s gotta be the aftershave. Hey, do you – do you think if I took a cue from you and bought a crate of Old Spice, the blondes would be hanging off of me, too? I’ve got a date with Cookin’ and Cleanin’ Barbie tonight and I really want to woo her, cause I hear she does all the housework and keeps her mouth shut. I bet she doesn’t eat a lot either, so I’d save money on food, which would be nice.

omg u wna go 2 tha mall?? lolz!!!1

Nov. 16/2007 – I was fascinated by this week’s video, “Mall Time” (1998). It uses a compelling blend of reality, fiction, and Drew Barrymore to construct an effective critique of mall culture. I was especially intrigued by the insider perspectives on the architecture and internal design of malls as houses of good repute for increasingly rich people to validate their affluence. The filmmaker drove his or her point home about the mall as a new, commercially mediated centre of community with aerial shots showing the massive parking lots surrounding a few American malls and interior shots of malls emulating town squares, complete with fountains, benches, and

The comparison of malls to the hyper-real worlds of Disneyland and television was something that struck me even further; the designer’s statement about how they are designed so that consumers enter a sterile and secure environment, leaving the chaos of reality (as well as their car) behind illustrates the filmmaker’s point about how malls contribute to a fear of the real world, thereby discouraging interpersonal communication (de-personalizing society) and normalizing mediated decadent consumption, ultimately expediting the decline of Western civilization.

The way in which our society so intently focuses on immediate gratification, as Juliet Schor argues later in this course, is eroding whatever semblance of financial responsibility remains in the public consciousness. The immediate accessibility of everything, a condition that began with malls and is immeasurably enhanced by digital networking technologies, allows us to have everything we want, whenever we want. This teaches us the lesson that convenience is all that matters in life, and the same rule applies when we consider how the flow of information has changed over the past 20 years. Kids growing up today are learning that because information is ubiquitous and immediately accessible, it’s not required that we learn anything. Knowing how and where to retrieve information is tantamount to actually possessing that knowledge.

Wow, I sound like a crotchety old man, don’t I? Next I’ll be saying that music nowadays isn’t what it used to be. Well, it isn’t… But that’s something for another day.

cash only

Nov. 9/2007 – Calder brings up the massive problem of consumer credit in his article “Financing the American Dream”. The lamentations of journalists and social theorists in the 1920s and 1930s that the credit system represented a breakdown “in the moral nature of economic decision making,” (Calder 24) have become ‘just the way it is’. We don’t bat an eye at casting ourselves into debt for the purpose of immediate gratification. When we sign the contract with VISA and authorize that first big purchase, we sign off a great deal of our freedom, in a way. What is presented to us as an idealized ‘opportunity’ is in reality a self-limiting pit of irresponsibility, worry and despair.

I’ve always been afraid of the credit system, as I don’t fully understand it and I’m really cheap. I got my first credit card when I was 18, and on the advice of an elder I bought a chocolate bar, paid it off, and destroyed the card. I guessed that meant I had perfect credit or something, but I obviously didn’t, as when I tried years later to get a credit card based on my perceived need to rent a hotel room, I was rejected twice.

Every year on Buy Nothing Day, the Adbusters holiday which falls on ‘Black Friday’ (the Friday after American Thanksgiving, the busiest shopping day of the year), celebrants stage diverse demonstrations against excessive consumerism. One of the most striking actions is a credit card cut-up service, where people stand in front of major department stores and malls, offering to destroy the credit cards of passersby. Surprisingly, this tactic seems to work from time to time, with common reports of several cards being destroyed at a given location. This is encouraging, as it illustrates the fact that some people still understand the value of thrift (or alternatively, it may illustrate nothing more than that Americans carry more cards than they can use). Calder argues that thrift, once a universally respected value, is now seen as ‘un-American’, and I agree; most of my consumptive habits are dictated by frugality, and when I look around while walking downtown in any metropolitan city, I can see that my values don’t fit with the conspicuity of Western excess. My values aren’t respected as ‘old fashioned’, but discouraged as ‘outdated’.

I do have a credit card now but I’m afraid to use it. As I like a bit of loose footing, I am actively fighting to stay out of debt so my place on the treadmill isn’t secured for life.

i liked the backstreet boys when they were underground, but they’re just too popular now, y’know?

Nov. 2/2007 – John Storey describes the phenomenon of consumption as communication, articulating identity and conveying membership to one community or another. He cites an example from Stephen Mennell regarding upper-class elites in medieval times, whose bread consumption habits were directly related to their socio-economic class. “The upper classes,” he states, “regarded black and brown breads with aversion – it was even claimed their stomachs could not digest them – while the lower orders aspired to white or whiter bread,” (41). Storey’s article describes consumption in the context of its double role “in providing subsistence and in drawing lines of social relationships (ibid.). The consumption of popular music is by no means exempt from this condition.

In consumptive circles of popular music, especially with fans of indie, alternative, and underground music, there is a distinct paradox faced by music fans and musicians alike. The problem for music fans, who often pride themselves on their ability to seek out and enjoy obscure music, is that the ‘underground’ bands they listen to are usually really good. With the help of digital networking technologies, good bands don’t go unnoticed forever nowadays, and can become overnight sensations through their MySpace pages alone (e.g., Arctic Monkeys, Lily Allen). As a result, the fans of a relatively unknown artist may turn on their previous preferences once mainstream culture begins to reflect ‘their’ culture. I have a lot of friends who stopped listening to Modest Mouse once their songs started getting regular radio play; the only thing that had changed, though, was the public awareness and hype surrounding the band. Still, radio play seems to be the irrational breaking point for lots of music snobs… I mean purists… No, wait, I mean snobs.

mongoloids - from dove to devo

Oct. 19/2007 – It’s hard not to be wary of product ads that hail the alienated consumer. They can be really effective, like the Volkswagen campaigns of the 60s and the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty, but at the end of the day they’re still ads and they’re still carefully crafted to lighten your wallet. I could go on, and have, for hours about why Dove’s campaign is socially irresponsible, and why anyone who buys Dove’s cellulite creams because ‘their ads are nicer than others’ deserves to go bankrupt. So I’ll save that argument.

As a side note, I saw an ad on television a few days ago that really bothered me. It’s 30 second spot for Dell that uses slick futuristic imagery to suggest that HP products represent the cutting edge of technological progress, et cetera, et cetera, a standard computer hardware ad by all accounts, except for one: the music. The melody is very catchy and accessible, with familiar timbral elements that feel comfortable to me.

The vocals kicked in, and if I hadn’t been lounging on the sofa I probably would have fallen over. The voice was that of Mark Mothersbaugh, lead singer of one of my favourite bands, Devo. Turns out Devo is back together, they’ve recorded a new album and are licensing their music for commercials. Not uncommon for a popular rock band, but altogether inexcusable for Devo. Why?

Devo, getting their name from ‘Devo-lution’, was started by university students as an art-based critique of consumer society and the general decline of human civilization. Their music used themes of unchecked technology and future dystopias to ridicule commercial and state-run culture, arguing that what we are calling progress actually represents regress. So Devo, the once-great cultural critics, have done a complete 180. Yeah, maybe their biggest song, ‘Whip It’, wasn’t the most intellectually deep recording of the 80s, but the band was what it was, and now it’s something completely different. What’s more, that song is now a fu- ...a damned Taco Bell ad:

...and Devo’s now teaming up with fucking DISNEY to create the barrel-scraping abomination called Devo 2.0 which is nothing but rerecordings of OLD Devo songs, sung by KIDS! Whoops, I let one slip out there. But really, if Devo’s doing computer and fast-food ads while whoring themselves out to Disney, what is sacred? Maybe these companies are trying to reach out to old Devo fans who have sold out, or bought in, themselves. Though I don’t buy it, it’s the only imaginable conclusion I can arrive upon: that these are thoughtfully hatched campaigns to attract thinking, socially conscious consumers by reminding everyone how awesome Devo was. Ads BY cultural critics, FOR consumer goods. Talk about hailing the alienated consumer.

binge & purge

Oct. 12/2007 – This week’s readings deal with the cult of domesticity and the naturalization of ideology through advertising. As we see in the Kilbourne reading, which focuses specifically on food advertisements but offers a broader critique of common advertising practices, it is in the interest of advertisers to rationalize and encourage the irrational habits of audiences, “[making] their obsessive and addictive attitudes seem normal and appropriate,”(119). Kilbourne presents a host of examples that express his point effectively, including some that play to primal human emotional impulses such as Hagen Dazs’ “Taste the Passion” campaign. As a consumer in the marketplace, I see these kinds of messages so often that they often slip under my radar. Just this morning I was at my local corner store and saw a merchandise rack covered in an ad for Cadbury chocolate bars. Close-up photographs of Wunderbar, Crunchie, Caramilk, and Crispy Crunch were accompanied by the words, “Why Resist?”. This is another example of advertisers knowingly targeting (and rejecting) the guilty feelings of the presumably overweight consumer, to “normalize and encourage heavy use, even if that might have destructive or even deadly consequences,” (121).

The Goffman reading also dicusses the distortion of consumer minds, in this case the manipulation into perceiving that the purchase of a product depicted in advertising to be glamourous will eventually result in glamour for the buyer. This is a huge bonus for the beauty industry, which has generated billions of dollars by exploiting the physical insecurities of consumers, especially women. The beauty industry is largely responsible for the epidemic of body image problems in our society's young girls, who are raised in an environment that suggests the ‘perfect’ female form is tall, thin, and aesthetically flawless, a convention that has flourished in our body-conscious culture especially over the past 50 years or so. Gone is the female desire to be big, healthy and strong, with wide, fertile, childbearing hips. Magazine covers do not feature powerful, middle-aged women, but instead concern themselves only with the youngest and thinnest models they can find in order to appeal to beauty-conscious youngsters. Because the main readership of fashion and teen magazines are teenage girls, the pattern produced gives even a wary teenaged audience the impression that the way an underwear model looks is ‘normal’ and to look differently is to be flawed or imperfect in some way. I’m genuinely scared at the prospect of raising a daughter in this cultural environment.

a spectre is haunting my apartment: the spectre of irrational consumerism.

Sept 21/07 - The Diderot Effect and Diderot Unities are fascinating concepts to me. As described by McCracken, they refer to habits of consumption that complement more abstract personal desires and systems of objects working as systems of self-identification, respectively. Diderot uses the example of receiving a new dressing gown as a gift, which is pleasant at first but quickly becomes troublesome as the luxurious article of clothing seems to stick out, implicitly demanding that the subject replace all of his other old possessions to match the new gown's au courant allure.

I recently experienced such a mind glitch, when my roommate and I were asked by his parents if we wanted their massive 5.1 surround sound entertainment system, as they were replacing theirs to go with their new home (!). Their new place called for new, higher-definition imagery and new, more-enhanced Dolby sound, and we were fortunate enough to intercept their (relatively) 'old' hardware on its way to the dump. After a few hours of laboured moving (our apartment building doesn't have an elevator, and we inhabit the top floor), we sat down to enjoy the fruits of my roommate's parents' electronic modernization. Our Playstation 2 had never looked or sounded so good.

Before long, though, the handsome sheen of the solid black speaker towers and entertainment centre began to look out of place next to the cinder-block-and-2x8 bookshelves of our humble 1.5-bedroom apartment. Sure, it didn't 'match' in a conventional interior design sense, but that wasn't what bothered me.

Perhaps I should rephrase: the cinder-block-and-2x8 bookshelves of our humble 1.5-bedroom apartment began to look out of place next to the handsome sheen of the solid black speaker towers and entertainment centre; I somehow got the feeling that we needed to update our living room furniture out of respect for our new possessions. Suddenly, the trusty solid oak coffee table that I bought for $5 at Value Village wasn't smooth or shiny enough; its space would look much better with a structurally unsound but polished MDF table from Ikea. Same deal with our humdrum bookshelves. Before I fortunately snapped out of this completely irrational train of thought, for a minute it made sense to me.

Regardless of our awareness of it, we are all guilty of conducting Diderot-ical (?) experiments on ourselves. A girl buys new glasses because she thinks they make her look (and feel!) smart for the back-to-school season. My friend buys a smoking jacket in order to present a more sophisticated front to people who don't already know he's a total goofball. I myself try to limit my wardrobe to items used and inexpensive in an effort to reduce my materialistic tendencies. It happens to everyone. If I hadn't stopped myself, though, I may have inadvertently let myself go and buy a new black table to go with our newly imposed black motif.

As students in an ever-precarious housing situation, there are countless reasons why it is completely impractical for us to spend hours moving this ridiculously heavy and expensive equipment into a tiny East Vancouver apartment with walls the width of Bible paper. We'll never crank the sound up past level 2. We're just going to have to move it all again in a couple of months. The no-name Superstore TV we had before worked just fine. But damn, the picture on this thing is so clear. And the entertainment centre's wood is so smooth and lustrous. The Diderot Effect is the perfect articulation of the irrational consumerism that fashion and, on a larger scale, image culture, bring about. So yeah, I admit it, there are huge contradictions between my philosophically ideal ambitions and my anemically justified willingness to consume free things. In writing this, as I drool over the soundsystem waiting for me at home, I can feel myself taking two steps back in my personal struggle towards anti-materialism. This may be anticlimactic but I'm going to stop writing now while I still feel I can salvage my good mood for today.

i googled 'conspiracy theorist' and a picture of my house came up

September 14/07 - This week's readings, especially Hauser's "Garment in the Dock", deal with a critique of power relations brought about by consumerism. This got me thinking today, as I began to consider the surprising accuracy and the meticulous nature of Spokane's investigation employing reverse-commodity fetishism. The prosecution's entire case was built on and facilitated by evidence derived from the bank's CCTV surveillance system. These days, of course, any discussion of CCTV surveillance will likely come to address London's huge public CCTV system and its surrounding controversy. But instead of London's largely unproven Orwellian experiment, it was a much larger form of surveillance that caught my attention this week.

The morning of our discussion, I came across this Scientific American article about Google Inc.'s Google Earth image provider, Digital Globe, launching a new and more powerful satellite (funded in part by the Pentagon's National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency (NGA) to the tune of half a billion dollars) into orbit.

According to sciam.com, "The new satellite will also provide far more accurate data, including the ability to pinpoint objects on the Earth at three to 7.5 meters, or 10 to 25 feet. Using known reference points on the ground, the accuracy would rise to about two meters."

Apart from this project's blindingly obvious implications of US military and Homeland Security interests, I am led to wonder about Google's role in digitally mapping every inch of the globe in the name of Progress. Am I the only one left wondering where corporate/state rights end and personal privacy rights begin?

I don't mean to sound like a paranoid conspiracy theorist suspecting elitist treachery. In its present state, the technology is relatively benign in terms of potential for abuse. To be sure though, imminent logical steps to improve the software's market value will introduce high-resolution imagery accuracy to the square inch and, in the not-too-distant-future, REALTIME coverage, most likely starting in dense metropolitan areas. I posit that the threat lies not in the September 18th launch of this particular satellite, but in the direction this technology is taking, as dictated by the omnipresent logic of capitalism.

Will the populace have much to say regarding policymaking such advancements would require? In this instance of state-corporate back scratching, I guess we'll have to see. I'm not suggesting that we all need distress over the eye in the sky that may someday be watching us walk to the post office to buy stamps, it's just something to think about. A lot of influential people in a lot of expensive suits certainly are.