Author: martinfeld

  • In the last month, I was fortunate enough to confirm new flexible hours with my workplace, whereby I compress the same amount of working time in a fortnight from 10 working days down to nine—this has resulted in having each second Friday out of the office. Today, I decided to spend a good chunk of it at the University of Wollongong campus, with my temporary office shown above.

    I’m grateful that I’ve been able to do this and although I’ve only had two such Fridays so far, they’ve both made a big difference in how much I can read and accomplish during the early stage of my literature review on media ecology.

    Recently I’ve been reading quite a bit of Lewis Mumford, including his texts Art and Technics (1952), The Myth of the Machine (1966) and Technics and Civilization (1967). As a method of practising and revising my knowledge of media ecology, I’ve also been trying to integrate ideas from the field (where appropriate) into my Lounge Ruminator podcast. During my visit to the campus today, I finished the fourth and final text of his that I borrowed from the university library: The Story of Utopias (1962).

    As I sat reading the text, which discusses the history and formation of utopias and how humans perceive and reconstruct their environments, a particular section leapt out at me. Mumford (1962, pp. 19–20) explains the concept of a ‘utopia of escape’:

    In its most elemental state, this utopia of escape calls for a complete breach with the butcher, the baker, the grocer, and the real, limited, imperfect people that flutter around us… For the most part, of course, this is an idle dream, and if we do not grow out of it, we must at any rate thrust other conditions into it… when the “real” world becomes a little too hard and too sullen to face, we must take refuge, if we are to recover our balance, into another world which responds more perfectly to our deeper interests and desires—the world of literature.

    Upon reading this, I instantly related to it and felt that this notion of escape encapsulated my own motivation for returning to university. Although I enjoy my work, I did feel like something was missing—a certain kind of stimulus or feeling or learning environment… really, just engaging with and diving deeply into literature.

    Sitting at that table with my coffee and iPad, absorbed in a text and hearing the birds in the trees and chitter-chatter of students in various languages, it felt like I was in a kind of utopia. It felt like an intellectual escape from the routine of everyday life.

    Occasionally, people ask me why I’ve decided to do a PhD or give me a look like it’s a whole lot of extra work for no apparent reward. At this stage, I’m still considering and refining the questions that I want to ask, or as my supervisor Kate says, the ‘so what?’ of it all.

    I think that a big part of this is yearning for a feeling of escape and a mission beyond the routine. Like the media environments that I’ve been reading a lot about recently, the university is a different kind of environment, with its own messages, conventions and expected behaviours, whether referring to the physical environment or the cognitive environment.

    Most importantly, it’s an environment in which I can be another form of myself. We all have different selves in different contexts.

    The word ‘utopia’ suggests idealism and perfection but in a practical sense, the word could mean something different; it could simply mean having a sense of clarity and direction or indeed, a happy place.

    So, at the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ve decided that doing a PhD is about finding my intellectual happy place.

  • Design is all around us, whether in the physical products that we handle or the digital interfaces that we scroll, swipe and press. Martin ruminates on the importance of transparency and honesty in the design of interfaces, drawing on the work of Scolari and Mumford, along with Rams’s design principles.

    Notes

  • In my previous job, I made the two-hour trip to Sydney CBD each morning—half in the car, half on the train. I never really became accustomed to it but I tried to form habits and routines to make it as efficient and painless as possible. Eventually, it was time to move on and I found a position in Wollongong, which is now much closer to my home.

    Recently, I needed to travel to Sydney for a work-related event; the venue was fairly close to my old office and I was eager to see how it would feel to dip my feet back into that old commute again.

    This time, however, I hadn’t considered how much a variety of technological changes—both personal and as a part of the environment—would influence my experience of the commute.

    The first experience that completely surprised me was ‘tapping on’ at Sutherland Station, the midpoint. In the past, I always had to fumble for my Opal card in my super-slim wallet; this time, I had forgotten my card but then saw that the card readers now accept Apple Pay. What was once a minor, first-world problem that agitated me every morning had become a moment of sheer delight: being able to board a train by hovering my wrist over a card reader.

    The next difference came in the form of my AirPods Pro. I was an early adopter of the original AirPods and they became indispensable during my daily Sydney commute, as I listened to various podcasts to pass the time. Now with the new noise-cancellation feature, I was able to enjoy all of my spoken-word content at a reasonable volume. Furthermore, as the earbuds don’t have full physical coverage (like over-ear or on-ear headphones), I could still faintly hear the world around me, which was great for hearing service announcements. I didn’t even have to use the transparency feature, which highlights external noise.

    This continued all the way through to Wynyard Station in Sydney, when I left through the tunnel to George Street and was confronted by a very surprising image: a tram being tested on the street, accompanied on both sides by police on motorcycles. For years, I had made my way out through the same exit into a dirty, noisy construction site and on this day, the entire streetscape had been completely modernised and graced by new light rail. Everyone else looked just as surprised as they waited for it to pass.

    Later in the day, following the conclusion of the event, I walked back to the station past Bligh Street and eventually back onto George Street. I had some time to try out shots with the ultra-wide lens on iPhone 11 Pro and it gave a very cool, somewhat different perspective to a number of places.

    Looking up through a large glass awning with boulder-like sculptures in the foreground Chifley Square, Sydney

    Looking up the centre of the building’s foyer with glass lift shaftsThe foyer at 1 Bligh Sydney

    Looking up at the sky with an angular, reflective sculpture in the foreground and buildings in the background

    Australia Square and the Flugelmann sculpture on the corner of Spring and Pitt Streets, Sydney

    A view of George Street, looking south, with buildings either side of the image

    The new light rail tracks on George Street

    A train arrives on the tracks from the left, moving past large iPhone 11 Pro billboards to the right. Town Hall Station, Sydney

    What occurred to me as I reflected on this trip was how technology had altered my view of reality or at the very least, challenged my memory of the sights and sounds.

    As stories swirl around about future augmented-reality (AR) technology, such as Apple’s long-rumoured ‘smart glasses’, I realised that people are ignoring the everyday kind of AR that exists everywhere already. In my reading of media ecological texts, as a part of my study, it has dawned on me that media and technology are indeed synonymous and that they alter our view of reality—creating their own environments.

    Let’s just recap these evolutionary technological changes:

    1. Apple Pay on the watch was quick and seamless and it made me feel better about paying for the service;
    2. AirPods Pro altered my appreciation of time and space, making the time go faster and enabling me to hear both my podcast and my surroundings clearly;
    3. The light rail, as a considerable, new piece of infrastructure, transformed my impression of the CBD and will no doubt go on to affect commuters’ understanding of navigation; and
    4. iPhone 11 Pro altered the visual reality of the city with an ultra-wide lens, which whether I like it or not, will go on to be my recorded memories of the day when I look back at my photos.

    Some people dream of a future when AR glasses (of some kind) sit in front of our eyes but what will the consequences be? What will it mean presumably to have notifications flashing in front of our eyes and distorting the world around us? I would argue that with a range of current devices and even changes to our surrounding environment, we already have access to a variety of transformative technological experiences, whether in the form of audio, payment systems, cameras or transport.

    I’m not calling for technological conservatism—just that we appreciate what we have today and consider the effects of what is yet to come. We need to think about this carefully and enjoy what we have now, rather than just looking forward to the ‘next big thing’.

  • More and more these days, you hear—particularly from educators—about how the earliest years of childhood are formative years. It’s a time when the course of your life, your skills and your preferences are being determined. It’s the foundation for the memories and stories that will define you.

    I realised this in a very, very small yet tangible way during a recent visit to a local antique shop called Café 10 Port Kembla. Natasha and I had driven past it many times, intending to go inside but unfortunately always in a rush. When we finally entered the place, we were struck by how quirky it was… full of antique items, retro posters, second-hand books and models. Sonny, the owner, made us delicious coffees from behind the counter as he told us about the place. Not long afterwards, his friend Volkan arrived and they ate cabbage together (apologising for the smell, which we actually enjoyed).

    At this point, we decided to stroll around the shop to see what was available. I was drawn in by a cool typewriter but managed to resist temptation. Natasha found a small collection of old car manuals, considering purchasing one for her dad, who is a Charger/Mopar enthusiast. They were interesting but not the ones that he sought.

    It wasn’t until I circled back to the front of the shop that I noticed something that I had missed at first: a cabinet with old Bburago Ferrari models, naturally, all in red. Although I think that they’re beautiful cars, I’m not the biggest Ferrari fan. Friends and family would tell you that I’m more partial to Teslas or German cars like Audi, Porsche and BMW… but I was very keen on these models, which spanned decades of Ferrari design. I ummed and ahhed, walking backwards and forwards, trying to decide which one I wanted. I had no idea why but I was completely taken by one particular model over the others and I ended up purchasing it. I didn’t even know what it was until I asked for it out of the cabinet and turned it over. Shown below on our bookshelf after purchasing it and taking it home, it ended up being the Ferrari GTO (1962).

    After buying it, we thanked Sonny for the coffee and left to go grocery shopping. As we walked to our car, I wondered what it was about the design of this Ferrari that I liked so much compared to the others, especially when I couldn’t even name the model. It was at that point that a thought jumped into my mind: I played with this model as a young kid.

    I quickly sent a message to my mum, asking for her to send a photo that she used to have up on the wall when I still lived at home. It took some time for her to search for it but eventually, it came through on my phone.

    Sure enough, it was exactly the same model, the GTO (1962), that I had played with as a young child, in a photo that was taken by my godfather, John.

    When in any shopping situation, I typically avoid buying things needlessly that will end up as clutter at home. In this case, I was so overcome by materialistic desire that I had to buy this car model. This object that I played with as a child, which probably wasn’t even mine, had planted itself so deeply within my subconscious that when presented with it again in a cabinet, I couldn’t resist.

    Memory is a funny thing and we often think about our early years as being difficult to remember. We only recall fragments or think that we can picture things, perhaps because an older relative or friend described something or we saw it in a photograph. Perhaps I was only reminded of this as I got older because it hung up on the wall at one stage… regardless, it shows the impression that all manner of things can have on you as a kid, from the music that your family enjoyed together, to the house that you grew up in, to the objects that filled it. These things stick with you, even if you’re not aware of them.

    So, what are the things that you can recall from your early, formative years? In what ways, big or small, have they come to define your taste and who you are today?

  • As an avid Apple Watch user since its release in 2015, Martin discusses how the device has changed both his behaviour and the way that he thinks about time. It’s a powerful, personal device that’s supposed to make things easier, yet many wish for custom faces and even more complications… but at what cost? Looking at the Apple Watch through the lens of media ecology—a field that investigates how media, technology and communication affect human environments—it’s time to ruminate on how we can make our digital devices serve us.

    Notes

  • In what seems to be a bit of a habit for me, I’ve changed the title format for entries in this PhD study journal; I did the same thing for my ‘ruminations’ on Lounge Ruminator. After a while, I start to find the titles either boring or non-specific.

    After joining the Media Ecology Association (MEA) to support my research, I discovered that you can have a ‘virtual coffee’ with a media ecologist over FaceTime or Skype. This is a new service that the MEA offers, helping students, early-career scholars and even experienced researchers to engage with media ecologists and enhance their understanding of the field.

    After a bit of to and fro with emails, I managed to organise a FaceTime call with MEA co-founder Lance Strate, who is an accomplished researcher, author of numerous articles and books and also a former student of Neil Postman. It was a fantastic opportunity to put a face to the name and hear directly from an influential media ecologist. He was extraordinarily helpful in prompting me to think about the history of audio and the devices that we have used to listen to it over time.

    As I’m relatively new to the field of media ecology, I have much to consider in how I approach my research about podcasting as not just content, but also as a medium/platform/art form that influences, shapes and determines a very particular style and tone of content. As Postman said in 1998, ‘Technology giveth and technology taketh away’—in other words, there is always a trade-off with every medium or technology. What do podcasts offer that radio, blogging or video-streaming do not? What is it missing that these other media provide?

    Making connections with researchers in a field—beyond just reading their content—gives greater context and confidence. Humans are social animals and we thrive on the ability to communicate, after all. In this case, being able to talk and have an auditory experience with a person, rather than just a visual experience with a text, was very beneficial.

  • Image source: Serious Eats (2011)
    Image source: Serious Eats (2011)

    After quite a bumpy beta period, macOS Catalina was finally released on 7 October. There are welcome improvements, such as the addition of Sidecar, the split-up of iTunes into different apps, a better Reminders app and the all-new Voice Control, which is a fantastic accessibility feature that enables you to control your Mac entirely with your voice. There are also some more controversial changes, including tightened security and permissions (leading to more dialogue boxes), the slow start to iPad apps on the Mac with Mac Catalyst and the final, complete removal of support for 32-bit apps. If you want a full review, make sure to check out Jason Snell’s on Six Colors.

    Whilst Catalina has received quite a mixed reaction, personally I’ve been happy with the software upgrade and can see how Apple clearly is continuing to push the Mac forwards, leaving legacy cruft behind in order to facilitate a more cohesive, integrated ecosystem of devices. Apple is clearly showing that it still believes in the Mac, contrary to the shrieking and carrying on by many tech analysts. Rather than being the centre of our lives as it once was, it is now just one of many devices.

    Despite these visible improvements, there’s a little something that has been sticking in the back of my mind in for the last few years: inconsistency. More on this in a moment…

    For some time, Mac fans have complained that Apple has been stripping the whimsy out of macOS, saying that it lacks much of the personality that it once had. Examples range from the removal of Clarus the Dogcow all the way through to the more contemporary ‘grayscaling’ of buttons and other UI elements throughout the system, where flickering, aqua-themed progress bars, quirky ‘About’ boxes and reflective, glass-like finishes once reigned supreme. To be clear, Oxford English Dictionary defines ‘whimsy’ as ‘Playfully quaint or fanciful behaviour or humour’.

    I don’t really buy this argument. To claim that Apple has steadily been making macOS (and even iOS) more boring isn’t quite right, as the company’s design pendulum has swung between skeuomorphic and flat, opaque and transparent, ‘lickable’ and grey and so on for years. The company is naturally going to respond to consumer taste and also attempt to match its current hardware.

    The true issue doesn’t lie in the supposed removal of whimsy; it’s in its inconsistent implementation and presentation. Let me give you a super-specific example.

    For many years in Mac OS X (now macOS), removing an application icon from the Dock resulted in a whimsical little puff of smoke. Now, as you can see below, it does not.

    Aha! Didn’t you say that it wasn’t all about the removal of whimsy, Martin? Where’s the inconsistency here? It’s becoming boring like everything else in the system!

    Not so fast… look what happens when you go to customise the toolbar in Safari…

    Not only does the removed toolbar icon disappear in a puff of smoke, all icons shimmy side-to-side whilst in the editing mode, like on the Home screen in iOS.

    This may seem like pretty pedantic example but it’s very significant. Apple’s entire philosophy for design, be it in software or hardware, is to sweat the details—to pay attention to the little things that no one else cares about. Why is this animation present in one application and not the other? This seems like an oversight.

    Moreover, the puff of smoke is only a simple animation but it makes you smile and enjoy a system that you’re probably using mainly for work. These days, that is almost always the context for the desktop computer.

    When people discuss the UIDatePicker that has been brought from iOS to macOS (in Mac Catalyst apps like Home), they explain their dissatisfaction as being rooted in the fact that this ‘does not work on the Mac’ at all. ‘Not working’ really means that this whimsical, skeuomorphic element doesn’t belong or match the elements that are around it—it’s out of place.

    I understand that Apple is in a period of significant transition, particularly as it has developed more integrated platforms and as it comes to terms with becoming more of a services and media company. Things are also moving much more quickly in tech these days, with greater pressure to innovate, add new features and churn out new and amazing products. Slowing things down a bit is a double-edged sword: taking the time to refine software can ensure stability and consistency but you risk being seen as lacking drive and innovation.

    I don’t believe in the claim ‘Steve wouldn’t have allowed that if he were still here’, however I do believe that Apple is now lacking an equivalent tastemaker—one person (or very exclusive group of people) to look across the entire company and say ‘yes’ and (more often) ‘no’ to things. Whimsy is only a small part of this but like any kind of feature or design decision, it needs to be consistent. Such decisions shouldn’t have to be guided by only one person, however it’s also true that the best things in life are never designed by a committee.

    Consistency may not sound like the most exciting product feature, however like fun and whimsy, it’s one of the main things that attracted us all to the Mac in the first place.

  • Yesterday I had my first joint meeting with both of my supervisors, Dr. Kate Bowles and Dr. Chris Moore. I’ve worked with Kate before (during my Honours) but this is my first time working with Chris. I can already tell that this will be a great experience, as they’re both on the same general wavelength but offer different views and research interests, which will keep me thinking and questioning my preconceptions about media and the specific area of podcasting. I need to be even more fundamental: what makes a podcast a podcast? It’s a question of both style and the specific technical implementation.

    Even at this early stage, I’ve been my typical self and worried too much about my reading progress, however they were both quick to say that there’s no template for success or how to embark on such a project. It’s amazing what work deadlines and expectations can do to you; I just need to loosen up a bit and enjoy the process of learning again, which was the whole reason that I decided to do this.