Is Verizon Making Us Meme Machines?

Every two years or so, I get an email from Verizon—my mobile phone service provider—saying it's time to upgrade my device. Normally, like when I had my first Nokia phone ten years ago, I jump at the chance, drop into the store, and pick up a new phone.

Two years ago when that deadline appeared, however, I upgraded to an iPhone, so when the time came to upgrade again, I declined. The phone works great, helps me stay connected to my job, keeps me entertained, that sort of thing. I didn't have any reason to change.

My wife is on the cell phone plan too, and this time she wanted an upgrade (on her phone, not her husband). So, after much harangue from the Verizon clerk to get this or that with this screen protector and that case and this charger and this belt strap carrier and the like, she went with her first choice: a free iPhone 4 with no case, no carrier, no screen protectors, nothing.

Then things got interesting, but not in a telecommunications-type way. It turns out that we had been on a grandfathered calling plan, capping our calls at 700 minutes a month and allowing us only (only!) 250 texts each. Verizon doesn't have those plans any more, and we were forced to switch due to the upgrade.

In the end, the change saves us money. But upon further investigation of what we signed up for, some interesting details appeared.

Gone are the days of choosing a cell phone plan with a certain number of available talking minutes. We're no longer limited to 700 minutes, or 450 minutes, or 10,000 minutes; we can now talk to whoever we want for however long we like. And we're not limited in our texting either. Sure, iPhone to iPhone texts don't count for anything, but our new plan allows us to text anyone as much as we like, and our charges stay the same.

Now, though, our data is capped. This, on the surface, isn't a problem for either of us. We regularly use less than .5 gigabytes with both of our phones combined. But capped data—and the rest of Verizon's new plans—reveal something very interesting about how we communicate.

They are encouraging us to spread our ideas.

If you subscribe to the philosophical beliefs of someone like Susan Blackmore, we've evolved to be carriers for cultural genetics. We have evolved as a species to pass along cultural information in the form of memes. Not only that, but memes have FORCED our hand to evolve into better meme-spreaders. So, years and years ago, we developed language, not to be able to tell each other what to do, but to be better able to transmit memes to one another.

The modern digital age, according to memeticists like Blackmore, exists for that reason. Cell phones, the Internet, television, and radio, all exist so that we can pass information along to one another. Memes rule us and our technologies. Ideas, dance moves, songs, jokes, fashion trends, all have their root in our lives as  memes, existing only to be spread from person to person. (Do we really need "Gangnam Style" to exist as a species? How about iPods? Color-coordinated sneakers?)

Verizon's new Share Everything plans blow that "secret"—that modern technology exists not to benefit us, but to benefit the transmission of memes—wide open. Verizon is banking on increasingly fast transmission times, larger phone screens, and the ability to talk or text anyone, anywhere, wherever and tying those capabilities into our natural tendencies—and the driving forces of the memes that surround us—to want to gab to each other about new things, new ideas, new memes. Sometimes we gab about existing memes that get a second wind because of vehicles like the Internet (would Rick Astley still be a cultural phenomenon if it weren't for the Internet in 2005?).

The cap isn't on a specific mode of communication. Now it's all lumped together into the catchall category of "DATA." It's all bits of information, not words or letters or emails or video. It's all just information, and we can send and receive as much as we like, provided we don't go over our cap. And if we do? We just pay a little bit more.

Even the handle of "Share Everything" indicates what is behind Verizon's plan structure changes. If you've got something to say, sing, post, write, or draw, you should do it. They have the bandwidth to let you do it.

The memes have forced our hands, and the large telecommunications firms have obliged them. This isn't necessarily a detrimental thing as far as our society at large is concerned; it's just that it's terribly revealing to see evidence of humanity's memeplex in your run-of-the-mill cell phone bill.

The Intro to the Project

Everyone has a story about how they came to the boards. I was in college, when Napster was booming and changing what most people thought about music, when I discovered the boards. In the time since, the boards have changed what I think about community and communication. Admittedly, I stumbled upon the boards because of being a fan of Dave Matthews Band(1), and perusing the boards allowed the opportunity to trade compact discs of live concerts. These days, Napster is gone, trading live shows through the mail is gone, and the board’s love of Dave Matthews Band is gone as well. 

The message board was a place for discussing specific and random topics, from current movies and television shows to what to grow in a backyard garden(2). There was a social element to the boards as well, with the casual participant picking up on circles of friends, people that knew each other from college or high school days(3).

My personal perception of what an Internet message board is changed in 2004. I was a college graduate and had to ride my bicycle to the local library for Internet access. I would casually participate on the boards, chiming in mostly in threads that dealt with the Detroit Tigers or philosophical arguments. I regularly visited two boards at that time: the flowery and hippie-ish amidreaming.org (aka AMI) and the harsher, cynical, harder-edged anyoneseenthebridge.com(4). I was posting regularly on the former and only reading on the latter. 

One day “The Bridge,” as it was called, disappeared. The site stopped working, and there was a small exodus of Bridge users to AMI. The story about the Bridge’s shutdown appeared in a thread on AMI.  The story involved two people who were romantically linked to each other and technologically linked to The Bridge. Once the two of them split up, petty arguments and the spread of incriminating digital photos led to The Bridge’s demise. It was a strange case of cross-pollination that shifted what I thought about that in which I was participating; the people involved became real. There was no longer that veil of anonymity that I assumed existed with any Internet website. The community abruptly closed for a short time(5).

Then The Bridge reopened under a new domain name. New people were put in charge, and in mid-2004, registration for new users at UFCK.org became public. I signed up in March of 2005. 

Now I approach UFCK (née The Bridge) from a different standpoint. My participation has increased from the days when I was only reading the thoughts of other people. I have developed my own online personality and have become “a voice” in the small community that loses members every month(6). My 10,000 posts over the course of the last six years(7) have covered everything from Tigers trades to this photography project. 

The project sprang from my interest in my board “colleagues” as well as growing notions that constructed personalities exist all over the Internet. Certainly, I know that I use different language and a different demeanor when I email my parents versus when I email an old college buddy. The same goes for in-person interactions. But there is something intriguing about the electronic barrier that is in place on a website like UFCK.org that permits people to speak as freely as they like about anything they like. 

In reality the interactions between boarders online and boarders offline is quite different. I have firsthand experience of that from the portrait sessions that have happened since. Cordial is not a nice enough word I use to express my gratitude towards the subjects in this project. I personally would have a hard time granting intimate access to someone I have never met just so they could take my picture(8).

Ultimately, what I am hoping to accomplish with this project is not to shed light on the physical appearances of people who possibly have remained secret on the Internet for a half decade or more(9). Instead, I hope the captured images will shed light instead on what it means to exist as a constructed personality both online and on film. Instead of illuminating viewers and exposing these UFCK subjects to the world, the photographs really perpetuate some of the mysteries behind the people with whom we interact with electronically everyday(10).

^{1. I will still admit to liking the DMB to this day. So don’t even start with the ridicule.}

^{2. There are also plenty of threads that exist solely to bash someone within the community. Sometimes, it’s deserved, and the forum will gang up on a member that has been nothing but mean to other people. Other times, it’s to poke fun of someone because they posted a photo of themselves wearing archaic church gowns on Facebook.}

^{3. See endnote number 2. It’s easier to get people together to make poke fun or harass another user when the person making the thread has several other friends that post regularly.}

^{4. Both silly website names are derived from lyrics of Dave Matthews Band songs.}

^{5. I was recently reminded by one of my photo subjects that there was a “crossover” board called Omeletteville. I had completely forgotten about that place, most likely because it required an invitation to register, and I didn't get one.}

^{6. As of my writing this, there are a few users championing a sort of “End of Days” for the board, which may take place at the end of this calendar year.} 

^{7. An average of 4.45 posts per day.}

^{8. This is a terrible position for a photographer to take or, even more so, admit. To try to alleviate this aversion to my own photograph and make some sort of peace with my other subjects, I shot a self-portrait for the project and it will appear as anonymously in context with the others as I can personally make it.} 

^{9. The web predecessor of both UFCK and The Bridge, DMBml, dates back to prior to 2001.} 

^{10. Pick me up, love.}

Artist Statement #3

There is a slew of photographers whose artist statement says something to the effect of "I take photographs of the beautiful things/moments other people don't see."

That's mean. That's a mean thing to say. Why say that?

Capturing a moment (and is that even possible?) no one else sees and then (presumably) showing it in photo form to the person (or people) that have missed it eliminates the chance of said person (or people) witnessing that moment for themselves. It cheapens the moment. It deprives people from looking for things for themselves. It insults the average viewer by insinuating that they missed something, the way you feel when you miss the comb hidden in the tree in the puzzle in Highlights.

A statement like this also defers ownership and responsibility on the part of the photographer. The modernists all photographed their subjects because they thought the subjects were beautiful and they were personally moved by that beauty. The postmodernists photographed their subjects because they had things to say about photography itself.

The contemporary photographer is let off the hook by making a sweeping, bland statement about their photographic vision. It doesn't say anything substantial; it merely says that they have a keener eye than the average person and that makes them a little bit more important. And that's something that should be assumed of any photographer any time they frame something and put it on a wall for someone else to see.

I don't want to be told that you're witnessing a secret reality that can only be seen through your lens. That's ridiculous. I want to know what it is about you that makes you take these photos. With that knowledge, I'll be more inclined to understand what it is about myself that makes me appreciate them.

Or, if I can't figure that out, it'll make me want to go make some of my own work.

Artist Statement #2

Art cannot change the world.

There was a time when it probably could, like Fountain or Guernica or Raft of the Medusa or David or the Sistine Chapel ceiling or photos from Vietnam or the moon or whatever. But we've evolved past that. Long past that. Postmodernists probably feared changing the world, and we've probably moved past them too (though they're still out there, lurking in the shadows).

Art still has meaning in it, but art only touches people on personal levels these days. There's no overwhelming consensus on Joseph Kosuth or Kiki Smith* or Banksy. A Family of Man-style exhibit could go over well in certain contexts (provided there were enough famous photographs in the show to draw big enough crowds), but overall responses would sound more like "Wait, that's supposed to be me? That's not me!" than "Oh my gosh! We're, like, all the same! Hugs!"

Famous works of art have an easier time changing art nowadays than changing the world. And even changing art is a difficult task, considering art changes all the time or not at all, depending on who you ask.

There's too much individualism in movements and actual works for any singular person or piece to change the world.

That's not a bad thing. Not in the least. The bad thing is the people who are kidding themselves by thinking that their work - or anyone's work - is going to change the entire world.

* Kiki Smith is German. Did you know that? I did not.

Artist Statement #1

A recent lecturing artist I saw reiterated the idioms for creating good art work when in a pinch:

1. Make it big. If not, then...
2. Make it red. If not, then...
3. Make 1,000 of them

These are all gimmicks. They're things to get people to pay attention to work that otherwise wouldn't merit attention. We've all done it. At least I know I have. Maybe minus the red part. I've never really been a fan.

Gimmicks are abundant in photography. Selective coloring, hand coloring, printing the leaders, soft focus, cross processing, the unsharp mask, the image macro, and the granddaddy of them all: HDR.

But all photographers miss the one major thing inherent to their medium: photography itself is a gimmick.

Photography alleviated painters, drawers, and printmakers of the "need" to work representationally. Photography was a novelty, albeit a cosmically amazing one, when it was first invented.

Thus photography's relegation to the backseat of the artistic merit bandwagon.

Photography is an even bigger gimmick now, when anyone can pick up a cheap digital SLR, throw a high pass filter on their work, get a million hits on Flickr, and rake in a few decent paychecks on Smugmug.

But rather than get caught up in the fickle fight to rescue photography from its gimmickry, we should embrace it. Let photography do what it does, and let's not worry about what all of those painters and drawers think.

Now go and make some LOLcats.