Surveillance is Creepy

I'm a huge fan of Hitchcock's film Rear Window. I saw it years ago and have always loved the movie. The premise is great, I love the actors, and I can relate to watching other people. I used to sit in Central Park for hours watching the tourists. I like to eat in crowded places so that I can observe other diners while they eat. Everything is fascinating, from how they hold their forks, to their body language, and even their conversations. My eavesdropping skills are great. So with my love of creeping, I just figured I would enjoy taking photos of unknowing subjects.

But I didn't. In reality, I felt horrible about capturing people's small moments on camera. I guess it's one thing to watch a personal moment and another to keep it for eternity. To me it seemed like I was stealing their moment, and I felt even worse about it because I knew it would be posted on the internet. I hope my unknowing subjects don't mind.

Some poor soul working out. And being photographed.

I think you can call my process surveillance. Though Philip E. Agre probably wouldn't. I didn't have any "consciously planned-out malevolent aims of a specifically political nature," though maybe that's something I'll work on for the future. I was watching people, and most didn't know I was watching. I didn't disrupt their days, sometimes I was high above my subject or just off in a corner, but I was generally not obvious to them. And I think I got some interesting photos. Maybe my skills need a little refining, but it's a work in progress. I did get a lot of reactions once people saw me. Some people saw the camera and smiled or posed, but plenty of others scowled, turned around, or just looked questioningly toward me. I wasn't shocked about the surprised looks, but it was interesting to me. Richard Woodward, in his article "Dare to be Famous: Self-Exploitation and the Camera" seems to think that photography of everything is just a normal part of life that we've adjusted to. I'd say that's probably true, but he definitely focuses on self-surveillance, and it left me wondering if I would have gotten surprised looks if I knew the people I was photographing or if I was using a camera phone instead. At this point, and with my audience of college students, camera phones are significantly more common than actual cameras. So was it the photography or was it the strange device I was using to take photos?

I'll think about it, and plan out my malevolent political goals, and get back to you. 

The Nitwit in the Room

© Kevin Knight

I think it would be fair to say I'm a technophobe. My phone doesn't take pictures or connect to the internet, and my abilities on a computer don't extend far beyond writing a paper and checking my email. I maintain a PG rated, completely benign facebook, on which I never "check in" to locations or post specifics about my life. Call me paranoid, but I've never had any desire to put my life on the internet and let it float into the clouds for eternity. It seems unnecessary. I'm already filmed everywhere I go in the name of security, I'd really like to maintain whatever shred of privacy I can.

I would guess that my distaste for technology of all sorts is why I'm so interested in Lev Manovich's article "Art after Web 2.0" and his discussion of current (well, what was current) trends in internet usage and user created media, and especially it's impact on the art world. I saw The Talent Show at PS1 last winter and was fascinated by the combination of technology and creepiness. The art world has a whole new dimension with the growth of social media, user-uploaded images and video, and the increasing amount of people who publish their lives on the internet.

For obvious reasons (like the publishing dates) I found "The World Wide Web" by Tim Berners-Lee, et al. to be pretty out of date. His interest in the collaborative aspects of the internet were interesting, especially knowing that the internet now is all about indirect collaboration and individual involvement. I could have been spared the technical jargon, because though Ted Nelson might think that "any nitwit can understand computers," I'm neither a nitwit nor a person with comprehension of computers. I do have some appreciation for Doug Engelbart and his piece "Augmenting Human Intellect." Though according to him I have no excuse not to understand the workings of the computer, I think his interpretation of the human-computer interaction is pretty interesting.

Maybe my reading list will encourage me to learn about how this machine works. But don't hold your breath.