Post 3: Looking Back at/within the Attention Economy and Surveillance Capitalism

Given the pervasiveness of surveillance capitalism in an attention economy--we're always watching and we're always being watched--what's a performer to do?

In class, Manny talked about the possibilities that panoptic culture might grant to those who "hide in plain sight," who seek out and find spaces of resistance to the discipline of surveillance.

His suggestion brings to mind a few artistic interventions into/responses to surveillance culture. Consider, for example, the Surveillance Camera Players:

Throughout the late nineties and aughts, this group staged various pieces--from individual signs ("Just shopping." "Minding my own business.") to full-length adaptations of plays like 1984 or Waiting for Godot. They published maps of surveillance cameras in New York City.

They're no longer around, their founders moving on to other projects. One wonders, also, where and how they could perform nowadays since surveillance isn't even a matter of knowing where the cameras are. We carry the recording devices around with us. Even with the camera and mic switched off or taped over, companies track our movements. We're recorded even when we're not being audio-visually recorded. Avoiding cameras is next to impossible.

In such a world, another response might be to present a false face. Masks are nothing new, of course, but some artists are taking that to the next level, designing wearable projection masks:

One wonders how these kind of masks may interact with fake-face technologies such as deepfakes. The potentials for creative-productive innovation and criminal exploitation are equally ripe.

For this next post, then: show and tell a creative performance response to the attention economy and/or surveillance capitalism. Explain and explore how that response works in and around the disciplines it exists within. Where is the intervention's resistance effective? Where is it less so?

I'm eager to see what you come up with.

Post 2: Performativity!

From performance to performativity and back!

Some mind-bending stuff this last week, no?

We read about a performative act as an expression that does or accomplishes something beyond describing or referring to something else.

We read about how performative utterances aren't true or false but felicitous or infelicitous--they work or they don't work based on the context, the person uttering it, etc.

We read, finally, about how performative acts--the conscious and unconscious habits and actions we do every day--can help to create a sense of self, a sense of gender, a sense of identity. From "It's a girl! Let's buy pink" to "Ladies don't sit like that" to "You make me feel like a natural woman"--our sense of who we are (masculine, feminine, queer, straight, bi, trans-, cis-, Methodist, Hindu, Atheist, Vegan, ginger, whatever) comes from a lifetime of repeated acts that performatively consolidate a sense of gender identity and sexuality.

But, Butler says, if identity is based on performances, then that opens the possibility that we may perform differently than expected. We can change or alter (or, to use the verb form, we can queer) performative acts in ways that undermine or subvert how they're "supposed" to be performed. She links this performing-differently to performances of citizenship, such as the instance of protesters singing the USAmerican national anthem in Spanish.

For this week's post, I want you to describe or link to an example of someone tweaking a performative act or utterance to mean/do something other than it's originally supposed to. If I pledge allegiance to the American flag, that's one thing (I pledge allegiance by reciting the words, "I pledge allegiance..."). If I recite that pledge, however, as I salute--say--the flag of the evil Galactic Empire from Star Wars--then I'm doing something else, perhaps suggesting that the U.S. is like the Galactic Empire (note: I'm just using an example here, not actually making that suggestion. I could just as easily use the flag of Equestria from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic).

Something similar happens if I tweak (queer?) a famously patriotic action captured in art, like Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima (as the pics I've included here do). Note how these tweaks could be taken in a number of ways: funny, clever, disrespectful, or offensive.

Aside from your standard "reflect/discuss stuff from this week," give me the example of a performative act/utterance intentionally performed to mean something else. Then explain your example. Reflect on if/how that intentional misperformance could be interpreted in contradictory ways.

Post by Tuesday.

See y'all in class!

JF

Post 1 Prompt: Theatre vs Performance

For your first blog entry for the class, I want you to provide, explain, and defend a distinction between theatre and performance. Obviously, there's a lot of Venn Diagram-type overlap here. But, if performance is the big umbrella, then perhaps theatre is a subset of activities under that umbrella. How do I know if I'm looking at theatre rather than performance in general?

Your answer (about 500 words) should cover at least the following grounds:

1. You should give me your quick-and-simple distinction between theatre and performance.
2. You should explain your distinction.
3. You should provide some examples, walking me through an explanation of how your distinction helps us discriminate between, say, a football game and a play.

Now, it's possible you feel strongly enough that no such distinction is possible. If that's the case, make that argument as persuasively as you can.

How important is it, really, to make a distinction between theatre and performance? For whom is that difference important and  why?

Aim to post a response to this prompt on your blog by Tuesday, 1/21. Post a comment about a classmate's blog post here by Friday 1/24. (Ex: "I looked at Kaitlin's blog. She says that theatre is exclusively the purview of muppets, which seems extreme. I'd at least allow sock puppets, not just muppets...")

Contact me if you have questions or concerns.

John