Cybernet and the secrecy of recipes.

The last bowl of Countess Becca's Sweet Potato Curry

I was complimenting her on another delicious meal; she has made many, and she spoke of one in particular and confessed her difficulty in passing the recipe along.

It’s a signature dish. She came up with it, she’s played with it, messed around with it, experimented and found sure footing. Our entire family loves it. And she knows it. It’s hers. She has a pride in having created something that is…hers.

That’s what an artist does.

”It’s the one recipe that’s hard for me to want to…pass along,” she said.

Note: I am putting what she said in quotes to make it seem like that’s exactly what she said. It’s not. It’s roughly what I remember her saying.

Note II: When you see me, at other times, put somebody in quotes, it generally means it’s fairly accurate, unless I note otherwise, as I did above.

The twin notions of privacy and secrecy have gone through some mega-societal changes over the last decade. A lot of it is specific and ultra-related to technology. For example, location tracking. My brother Jonny and I have an ongoing disagreement over location sharing and tracking (via cell phones). He thinks nothing of it and shares with various friends. I don’t.

I am very close with him and trust him with just about anything and everything. But I resist, on principle (and sometimes practicality) the idea that it is my obligation to update others on my life and location in the moments it’s happening. In other words, it’s one thing to let people know where I have been. It’s another thing to let them know where I am. In the moment. Same thing with any number of events: when I share something, even a deep slice of our family’s life as I have done over the last decade, it is under my terms, under our control, and it is in reference to something past; something that has passed. I resist mightily the compulsion - and I do feel it sometimes - what sometimes feels like cultural or societal pressure to let people know what’s going on in our lives in the moment.

This is a tiny digression, but we see a certain example of this in contemporary fiction, especially that written for Middle School and YA. A lion’s share of novels are written in the first person, which is a much more immediate, in-the-moment, this is happening now, kind of experience than the traditional third person, which isn’t better per se, yet does provide, I think, a greater opportunity for playing with time, reflection, suspense, and a greater scope of history and context within the framework of the story. I’ve read plenty of first person tales I love, and this has certainly been a wonderful time over the last fifteen years, for an increased bounty of fantastic YA novels. Many of which are written in the first person…

…an approach that feels much more grounded in the present and what is immediately happening than third person limited or third person omniscient.

So I am resistant to the notion of simply sharing information (or location) simply because it seems like the thing to do, and quickly devolves into that timeless question when it comes to state intrusion into private citizens’ lives:

”Well I don’t see what the big deal is…I don’t have anything to hide.”

I’ll ignore the idiocy of the second part (of course you do; everyone does. I stand firm). The first part, “what’s the big deal?”: this is the big deal: choice.

I resist the idea that I don’t have choice or agency in things that I think I should.

I resist the fact that I need to share information in any context with others because “…what’s the big deal?”

I resist the idea that much of what is created today is is commodified, whether it’s a painting or a photograph or a music library or anything that someone has made that has value and is not, like much of the world today, infinitely replicable and reproducible.

I am not a Luddite; I love technology and how it provides different and assorted paintbrushes for us to use in the creation of content for the betterment and beautification of humanity and our world.

For us to use. Not “for us to be used by.”

A gang of cows appear to quietly eat before plotting their next nefarious activity.

It’s all Greek.

The word “technology” comes from the Greek “techne,” which means “art or skill.”

Before that, the Ancients used the word “tekh” to refer to weaving or building. Probably not the first activities you think of when it comes to technology.

“Ology” comes from the Greek “logos or logia,” meaning “word or study.”

So technology refers to studying an art or skill. For me - and I suspect for many - the word “technology” usually brings up visual images of computers, tablets, phones, robots, possibly Cyberdyne. That sort of thing.

Baskets, weaving, building, et cetera? Not so much. But that’s what technology is: the study of an art or a skill, and then the application of that art or skill, usually in a scientific context, to improve humans’ lives.

To improve humans’ lives.

This makes me think of the Christian idea of Sabbath; a day of rest taken once a week in which the (Biblical intent) was to step away from work and obligations and focus on building communion with God, the natural world, each other…

…it’s such a wonderful idea that it’s been adopted outside Christian communities as well and is enthusiastically endorsed by many in the health communities, as well as the broader secular world.

The reason is: it’s good for you. The idea of a Sabbath, a day of rest, a day to step away from much (full circle here) technology is good for you. For anyone. Just like our bodies and brains need regular sleep in every 24-hour cycle, our bodies, brains, and souls need a stepping-away every 7-day cycle. A rest. It’s good for us. I firmly, heartily, absolutely endorse doing everything possible to make this happen in your life. Because it will be good for you. If you prioritize that singular, committed, ongoing, day of rest, you will be better at whatever it is you do for the other six days. You will.

You will.

Technology is wonderful. But like a Sabbath, it is meant to be used by us, for us. Not the other way around. We are supposed to make technology work for us, not the other way around. This is not a new thought, not an original idea. But I think it’s one worth repeating.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, ad infinitum.

Hugh McLoud, the fellow behind the Gaping Void website, wrote a wonderful little book several years ago. My mom gave it to me; she often gifts me a book with no reason except for “…this made me think of you.” It’s called something like “Ignore Everybody: 39 Steps to Creativity.” So Mr. McLoud is also an illustrator, and does all his little doodlings on the backs of business cards.

I’m paraphrasing here, but one of the things that struck me the most and has stayed with me is how he responded to the question of people “stealing his idea.” His idea is very simple, his drawings are quite simple and funny. I love his answer.

It was something along the lines of :

I don’t worry about it. If someone can crank out cartoons on the backs of business cards better and faster and funnier than I do, then good for them and I ought to move onto something else.

Total paraphrase. That’s what I took from it though. In other words, he’s not protecting the process, because he trusts in his own A) work ethic and commitment to keep drawing and cranking them out, and B) ability to consistently keep coming up with funny and original ideas for his illustrations.

He’s talking about the act of making, the act of creating, the act of doing something over and over and over again. He has a confidence in his ability to do so…and it’s an analog process, a messy one that is different every time. Andy Warhol might have some different ideas on this, but art is meant to be a little different every time, it’s meant to be different and unique and not replicable, in binary version, for infinity. At that point it’s commodified.

Raphael, Caravaggio, Durrer, Monet.

Our kids get in arguments sometimes, which is fine, and bickerings sometimes, which is not fine. Often times they revolve around the idea of “being copied,” as in “you’re copying me, you’re stealing my idea.”

I come back again and again to the value in copying, in (stealing Austin Kleon’s well-articulated tome to creativity “Steal Everything”), learning from those who have already done something well and using their work and process as a jumping off point for improving your own skills and abilities. That was the accepted practice for centuries in the art world: you want to become a master painter, you become one by replicating the great works of the masters and honing the craft as you develop your own voice. Eventually you master the technology of the craft and use that skill to develop your own voice…which is what an artist in any form does.

But digital replication has changed all that. It’s not about sharing something special with someone; that one thing that ties you together and forges a bond.

It’s not about sharing a piece of music with one other person because you feel they too would love it.

It’s not about gifting a film recommendation, or book, that is special to you and might be special to another person.

It’s not about sharing a special place, or a special single photograph, or a piece of art or recipe…

…it’s about how these things have commodified in the sharing process and lose their value in the process.

I am not all on the side of “don’t share ideas, keep them to yourself.” Not at all. I am teacher and parent, and by default, teachers and parents have to understand that one of the fundamental pillars of being a good one is expecting that those you are helping are going to steal from you.

They’re going to steal your best. And that is a good thing.

It requires confidence and humility to allow yourself to be stolen from. The confidence to believe that what you have created or done is of value and therefore worth stealing. And the humility to know that there will be - and should be - others who will take what you have done, who will take your ideas, your process, your recipe, your technique, whatever it is -

…and make it better. They will do something with it and make it their own. And that is a wonderful and wondrous thing.

So what’s the big deal with sharing?

I suppose it’s about control and trust.

There are things that I recommend to everyone.

Everyone should listen to Franz Liszt’s Liebestraume and Cat Power’s rendition of Amazing Grace.

Everyone should read Roald Dahl’s Matilda and any of Malcolm Gladwell’s books.

Everyone should watch Amelie and The Sound of Music at least three times in their lives.

But not everyone should listen to Deafheaven or Colin Stetson.

Not everyone should read Jorge Luis Borges or Flannery O’Connor.

Not everyone should watch Brick or 32 Short Films About Glenn Gould.

I save different things for different people. I know that once I share something, whether it’s something I made or created, whether it’s something I listened to or watched or read, whether it’s a place I visited or a person I experienced…

…that once I share it, it’s out of my hands. The idea of authorship is removed from me, and I no longer have control over how it is spread, or how it is received or absorbed or remixed or reshaped or reshared. I know and acknowledge that at that point I am choosing to give up control over how and where it goes.

But up until the point it leaves me, resist the urge and the pressure to just share without thinking, to pass along without thinking of the audience I think might connect to something, to try and keep some things precious in a world filled with white noise.

We live in a world where the concrete is valued; where the concrete ways in which people contribute to society are most valued. If I sound like I have a chip on my shoulder…well, perhaps a small one, and I fight hard to not have even a little one. But it is hard. I’m not an engineer or a doctor or a scientist or someone whose accomplishments are readily apparent in terms of advancing human progress or bettering humanity.

I think I do represent, however, the unarticulated thoughts of some - perhaps many - whose contributions come in small, in abstract, in ongoing ways that benefit humanity, and whose value and benefit may come from the knowledge that we are sometimes helping develop processes, ideas, and art that will be copied,

that will be sent out to the world to be used and reused and remixed, often and frequently without attribution.

Because we are used to commodification. You want something, you go online and simply get it. You get the same thing that everyone else has the ability to get. A photo, an image, a drawing, a song, an album, a book, a recipe…

…you take and you use.

I accept that is reality. I even accept that there is great benefit to sharing ideas.

But I also fight for the ideas of originality, of idea creation, of attribution, of acknowledgment, of saying ‘thank you,’ of building up and supporting other artists and creators and inventors,

and of thinking thoughtfully and mindfully about sharing; of differentiating between what to share

A) with the masses, and
B) with individuals.

They both have their place.

But they are both different.

For the beauty of the earth and

Let us consider thoughtfully what we share and who we share with.

It is a beautiful and lovely thing: to share what we care for with others we care about.

A very pretty day to you, my beautiful people upon this lovely and singular earth.* I am going to request that my bride make a very delicious and very secret dish for supper tonight.

With affection,

Joseph.

____

*this is not the place for a conversation about multiverses, nor will I recommend to everyone one of the best science-fiction series ever (that would be Fringe).

Additional week 5 Corona observations and comments.

Governors in some states are itching to lift stay-at home orders and re-open businesses. Or rather, every governor is itching to do so, but some of the dumber ones are actually preparing to do so imminently, against the strong advice of, uhh, scientists, epidemiologists, pathologists, researchers, public health leaders, and, umm, virtually anyone in the world who has paid any attention as to the lifespan of viruses such as the one we’re dealing with, and what to do and not do. Anyway, here’s to you, Governor Brian Kemp in Georgia, you are certainly aiming to get yourself in the history books someday. And not in a good way.