Tag Archives: perspective

Refugee Shorts

AQ

The United Kingdom has just finished celebrating Refugee Week from June 16th to 22nd. Here in Bradford, there were a variety of events from a heated Question Time-style panel discussion to a walk highlighting the monthly journey that destitute refused asylum seekers make to sign on with the court. The University of Bradford Union’s Amnesty International and Student Action for Refugees societies collaborated to create a series of short films to contribute to the Week. As a member of both societies, I was lucky enough to play a part in making the project happen. We tried to make each film in a different tone and style to appeal to a different type of audience.

The first film in the series, Refugees 101, is a set of facts counteracting several major misconceptions which abound in the United Kingdom as well as outlining some of the major challenges facing asylum seekers here.

Street Talk has a more light-hearted feel, a quiz challenging the audience to question how much they really know about asylum seekers as they play along with the Bradford locals.

Out Into The Rain is my personal favourite because it was largely guided by the subject of the film. From when she sat down, it seemed clear that she knew exactly what she wanted to tell the world.

In Someone Else’s Skin was the film with which I had the least involvement, a situation that was probably for the better because the result was far more metaphorical than my literal mind could have created. It explores the labels and stigma stuck on asylum seekers and refugees.

“Refugee Shorts” premiered on Monday June 17th, and we hope that the films will continue to be viewed and affect people long into the future.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Twitter, Media, and Change

My mom informed me about the federal court’s ruling on voting fraud in the last election before it was reported in the mainstream media because she was tracking it on Twitter (not that the mainstream media seems to be too interested anyway).

A couple days later when I asked how the Globe and Mail paywall affected her night-time news-reading ritual, my aunt informed me: “Guess I’m getting more of my news from Twitter.”

Plenty has been written about the death of the newspaper; and it seems like for some of my family, they’re replacing it with Twitter. Maybe I’m not the best person to comment. Initially, a complete Twitter-sceptic, I now observe from afar: I regularly read my favourite hockey writers and my mom’s feeds, but I don’t have an account of my own. As frequent readers may have guessed, the 140-character limit does not suit me. I find that it limits the capacity to communicate nuance and therefore increases the possibility of being misunderstood. There was one point about a year ago, where I warned my mother that her Twitter feed made her sound like more of a political extremist than she was.  So, while brevity may be the soul of wit,[1] I am a long-winded Polonius. You could say that my attitude towards Twitter is better suited to a grumpy old man. However, the more I reflect on it, the more I realise Twitter doesn’t exactly bring anything new to the table; rather it simply magnifies, extends, and intensifies the way we already interact with the media.[2]

“The Readers’ Prejudices”

The internet has been praised for opening up dialogue and breaking down barriers.  However, while it’s very easy to find viewpoints with which you don’t agree on the internet, this ideal is generally not what happens. Instead, people tend to use the internet to find and interact with like-minded people. As  Twitter feeds are filled with people who they choose to follow, Twitter acts as a personalised collator of information that confirms people’s pre-existing ideas. I found it interesting how after the recent murders in Woolwich, my Facebook feed filled up with condemnation of the racist backlash, but was itself devoid of any racist backlash. Not that the confirmation bias arrived with Twitter. The following clip from the satirical 1980s British sitcom Yes, Prime Minister does a fairly good job of describing today’s British print media.

Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

5 Books That Have Changed the Way I Think

In one of my Culture and Conflict Resolution classes, we were asked to talk about how art and literature has affected our lives. I mentioned that I have a list of books that have changed the way I think. It turns out that my friends do as well—with Malorie Blackman’s “Noughts & Crosses” series being a prominent fixture on many of their lists. I’d never read or heard of the series, and I’m pretty jealous that they got to read something of that depth and actually gain something from it at such a young age. Hearing about their reading experiences has made me want to share some of mine. So, here is a part of my list: five books that have changed the way I think and some of the lessons that were drawn from them. They aren’t necessarily my favourite books—although some of them are—but after I finished reading them, I looked at the world in a different way than when I started.

Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Class, Taste, and British Student TV

The television in the student accommodation, which I shared with five other students in Bradford last year, was not often the source of particularly thought-provoking fare. However, when the two art students in the flat wanted to watch In the Best Possible Taste, we were provided with a rare exception. In each episode of this three-part series, Turner Prize winner Grayson Perry explored taste—“why people buy the things they do and wear the things they wear, and what they are trying to say about themselves when they make those choices”—among representatives of a different British class. He visited his subject’s homes and participated in their social activities in an inquisitive yet empathetic and perceptive manner. He would then create two massive tapestries, which symbolised what he felt he had learned about his model’s taste, aspirations, and difficulties. The subjects of the episode are then invited into his gallery to view the tapestries. Each episode spawned long-lasting discussions in my flat; we even missed a good chunk of the second episode because we started yakking during a commercial break and didn’t stop. I don’t know if my art student flatmates would agree with me—I should probably ask them—but in my opinion, good art creates those kinds of discussions.

Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dirty Hands

I was cleaning off my brushes and palettes, (AKA old plastic Chinese food containers ho ho,) the night after the ArtQuake OneLove show on Friday– and I found myself just… staring.

Continue reading

Tagged , , , ,

Art, Empathy, and Kony

Before I was brought on board, some of my fellow ArtQuake bloggers wrote about what draws them to art. These posts sparked self-reflection on my own relationship with art. I’ve come to the conclusion that what  draws me most to art is its ability to communicate other people’s lives, perspectives and emotions. A photograph can capture a moment, a sculpture can symbolize strength and defiance, and a poem can grant entrance to the vulnerable thoughts of a mourning grandson. Thus, I was particularly drawn to displays in the National Media Museum’s recent exhibition of the work of Daniel Meadows, who describes himself not as a photographer but as a documentarist and a storyteller. Powerful art evokes empathy and human connection.

* A sample of Daniel Meadow’s storytelling through photographs.

This reflection on art and empathy was recently brought back to my mind with the meteoric spread of the KONY 2012 film. I have never seen anything spread across Facebook like this has, and I’ve been astounded by how this has resonated across ALL demographics of my Facebook friends (age, interests, gender, race, geographic location etc.)—which I believe has a relatively wide scope. If nothing else, that’s an impressive accomplishment.

I was even more baffled, when I actually watched the film and felt none of the emotional attachment that I expected. Perhaps it’s because my internet connection’s been shaky and so I had to watch it in five minute intervals (leaving plenty of time to digest what was actually being said) or maybe it’s because the video’s many flaws are apparent in many of the other issues that I think about both in my studies and in my own time or maybe I’ve just turned into a cold-hearted cynic, but I could not understand why this video was spreading like wildfire, while so many other advocacy videos—including, if my memory isn’t misleading me, previous Invisible Children productions—have not.

Now this is not going to turn into another critique of the campaign because that has been done quite well already by people who are far more educated about Kony and the LRA than I am. Instead, I am interested in why this 30-minute video, despite its many flaws,  defied the rule that only short videos go viral, and resonated enough with millions of people that they were inclined to share it with others.

                                                                                        * Co-Founder of Invisible Children, and film-maker of Kony 2012 uses his son’s perspective on “what a bad man looks like to convey the message of his power to the world*

In his blogpost about the phenomenon, Ethan Zuckerman attributes the video’s spread to the oversimplification of narratives:

“This narrative is so powerful because ‘certain stories resonate more, and thus are more effective at influencing action, when they assign the cause of the problems to ‘the deliberate actions of identifiable individuals’, when they include ‘bodily harm to vulnerable individuals, especially when there is a short and clear causal chain assigning responsibility’; when they suggest a simple solution; and when they can latch on to pre-existing narratives.’

Sound familiar? The Kony story resonates because it’s the story of an identifiable individual doing bodily harm to children. It’s a story with a simple solution, and it plays into existing narratives about the ungovernability of Africa, the power of US military and the need to bring hidden conflict to light.”

Upon re-watching the film, a couple more elements stood out to me: the inflated sense of power attributed to social media particularly through imagery from the Arab Awakening, the immediate sense of urgency created by a big flashing deadline, and the sense of integrated intellectual and moral authority conveyed through Luis Moreno Ocampo and the filmmaker’s son respectively.

My mother forwarded me this other perspective from Kevin Allocca, Youtube’s trends manager. Allocca identifies three main elements that make videos go viral: tastemakers, participation and unexpectedness. KONY 2012 brilliantly uses one element, an appeal to participation, to go after the second element, the tastemakers. As for unexpectedness,  from what I seem to glean from reading articles and comments on the internet, it certainly seems that those who are pushing KONY 2012 the hardest are those who didn’t know who the LRA was before watching the film.

This feeds back to Zuckerman’s argument. Both Zuckerman’s observations and my own identified elements would seem to convey that widespread support can only be gained through engaging otherwise uninterested people with an oversimplified and misleading message. But is that all there is to it? It seems to me like KONY 12 is adhering to my ideal of what art should be—a source of human empathy—by twisting itself to appeal to the flawed mindsets of many of its viewers. Could a more nuanced film ever have the same impact?  Rather than adjusting to appeal to viewers, can a film gain the same widespread circulation by forcing viewers to adjust to it? I’d like to think so; however, despite considerable reflection, this blogpost is more about questions than answers. I don’t know the answers. This is why I would like to open it up to you. What made KONY 2012 spread quicker and more widespread than any previous video campaign? And can this be harnessed in a more constructive manner?

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,