Making the most of making the media

Finding Community | Stopping to Breathe | False divisions | Continuing the discussion | Other Voices

I arrived in Los Angeles late Monday afternoon. As I landed, I watched the sunset turn the Santa Monica Mountains that golden hue they turn in late fall, caught glimpses of the skyscrapers along Wilshire Blvd., marveled at the sheer everywhereness of it all and traced a line from the Hollywood sign down to the corner of Hollywood and Vine, where, nearly a century ago, my great-great-grandfather’s decision to rent a barn on his sprawling ranch to two young filmmakers for $250 a month might have made much of the city’s role as a media mecca possible. The tableau pulled at my heart, one more landing in a city I’ve called home for only a year, but which has been in my blood for five generations.

For years, though, as I hinted in a post last Spring, I’ve danced with another city. Over the past week, the motions became more certain, thanks in part to the energy I tapped into at the We Make the Media Conference at the University of Oregon’s Turnbull Portland Center.

Thoughts about the future raced through my mind as my plane descended. Some of these thoughts are familiar to the world at large. Some are personal. When it comes to Saturday’s conference, I’ve had to take some time to digest, get back home, and prepare my next steps. They include returning to Portland very soon — and more permanently — in part to join the community of mediamakers who emerged at the conference.

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Blurring the lines: Virtual human research promises real-world impacts

Halfway through my interview with Louis-Philippe Morency I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.

Every nod, every movement of pen to paper, every glance in his eyes made me wonder what I might have been saying without saying anything. Would he catch my eyes straying to his bookshelves or the traffic on the street below and notice my (rare) moments of boredom and feel insulted? Would he detect a hurried, enthusiastic nod and hammer a point home to me? Would he latch onto my fascination to try to spin me?

Nonverbal cues drive human conversation. They signal a speaker to come to a point with an expectant glance or urge a listener to grasp the significance of a message with a well-timed raise of the eyebrows. Beneath the surface of our words we steep our conversations in texture and fill our discussions with broader meaning when we move our hands to the rhythm of our voices, shift our weight nervously, affix our gaze on listeners and alter the pitch of our voice with excitement or trepidation. These “backchannels” direct the flow of social interactions, but they aren’t universal.

Morency completed his Ph. D. at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and joined a team at the University of Southern California’s Institute for Creative Technology studying how virtual humans — artificially created but independent characters residing in a computer environment and meant to look, move, behave and communicate like real humans — can be taught to interact more plausibly with real humans and even each other using both vocal language and these nonverbal backchannels. Since coming on board at ICT Morency — along with colleagues at ICT — has won a series of awards and other recognition for research in how computers make sense of the visual data they collect.

Backchannels evolve through time, and they are differentiated by culture. They frame our words. But while these backchannels come to us almost as easily as breathing and are as much a product of thousands of years of history as art and music and religion, they’re foreign to computers. Scientists could program the whole of the Oxford English Dictionary and countless combinations of “heuristics” — or problem solving formulas — for proper grammar and machines would still have trouble learning this natural language.

The notion that virtual humans might have unscripted conversations with humans and one another may seem like science fiction. Real humans themselves often struggle to communicate with one another; whether we’re participating in complex international negotiations or wooing a mate we weave a quilt of words and body language meant to express our needs and desires. Computers communicate in strings of ones and zeros, a vocabulary of closed and open circuits determining how they “decide” to run programs. They have no other culture, no thousands of years of history to determine their identity.

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Koreatown's sign language

This afternoon I ran an errand a couple Purple line stops away. It was such a beautiful day that instead of taking the subway I decided to meander home on foot. Fortunately, before I left the house I thought to grab my camera. I took the opportunity to look around a bit and capture [...]

The eyesore, history and the untold story

The Ventura County Star reported Oct. 30 that Ventura County Superior Court Judge Glen Reiser halted the demoliton of the Wagon Wheel hotel. The stay came after what seemed like the end of a long fight between developer Vince Daly and the San Buenaventura Conservancy.

Many comments posted to the Star‘s Web site featured the theme of the Wagon Wheel as an eyesore, a blemish to the entrance of Oxnard, Ventura County’s largest city. The building and its surroundings, they argue, should have been torn down long ago. Some commenters argue the conservancy should repay Daly for the costs of the delay, costs he claims mount by the thousands each day the construction is delayed. For his own part, Daly argues in the Star article that blocking the demolition permit further delays construction of the affordable housing element of his development. On the other hand, neither Star reporter Scott Hadly, his sources on either side of the story, nor any of the commenters pouncing on the article address one crucial question: why is Daly building this project now? Why is it so urgent?

Drive across the 101 from the Wagon Wheel, located here and one finds the massive development known as RiverPark. On the north side of the freeway, just outside of that development, stands a billboard declaring homes starting from “the 200s.” That simple advertisement, that homes in RiverPark are selling for only 200 grand, tells the entire story. Homes aren’t selling in Ventura County. Even with reports Oct. 29 of an unofficial end ot the “worst recession since World War II,” our economy is sputtering. Should Daly, or anyone, be building new homes right now?

Let’s argue for a moment that he should, that he has a right to, or that, simply, as the owner of the property upon which the Wagon Wheel Motel stands he should be allowed to finish the project he’s started. Does that mean A)It’s right if he does so or B)It’s wise if he does? Daly seems to be gambling that by the time the project is completed we will be out of this gut-wrenching time, that consumers are going to return to the table unaffected by the misery of the past two years, give or take a quarter, that every American is going to want a condo or a townhouse across a freeway offramp from a cookie cutter mini-mall and down the block from a thousand other condos and townhouses just like their very own (though the possibility of a “transit center” at The Village raises some intriguing possibilities).

Are we so sure of that? Are we so sure that our behaviors are not going to change after this recession, that we’re not going to think strategically, that we’re not going to act differently, that we’re not going to operate differently? Even if we get ourselves into some other economic mess — which is quite likely — some lessons, even if they’re not the right ones, have surely been learned during this period.

Besides the possibility Daly is hoping for a boom by the time The Village is done, another reason one might want to see it started immediately directly relates to the current economy. Perhaps, one might argue, every day we hesitate to build is a day we cost ourselves valuable construction jobs, jobs that could earn money to feed families, jobs that could pay residents money they can use to spend on clothes and food and cars and gadgets and all the other everythings sold in the county’s stores.  Aren’t we, by blocking those jobs, which provide that income, which allows that spending also preventing the economic growth that comes from that spending, preventing the jobs created by that growth, and preventing the income those jobs allow?

Perhaps.

What are we really protecting? We have a great deal of unsold housing stock. Oxnard has buildings that already exist. Ventura County has miles upon miles of substandard homes and poorly utilized space. What if we spent the same time, the same money, the same energy and investment and subsidies we would put into new projects on instead reconstructing the cities and communities and neighborhoods that already exist. What if we brought our county, and our country, back to life? We might accomplish multiple goals. We would still put our contractors and construction crews and architects and plumbers and electricians and welders back to work, but we would do so without turning our backs on our neighbors and on our past. We could engage our community. What if we integrated our history into our past, instead of throwing it out? What if, instead, we learned to reuse the materials that already exist across Ventura County and beyond, to really recycle the world in which we live, rather than throw it out like the 4.5 pounds of trash we still throw away each and every day?

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