Flickr: A Case Study Pt. 2--The MoMA

The long overdue second installment in this series has finally arrived! I know you've all been waiting with bated breath. I think part of the reason it's taken me so long to write it is because part of me wonders what the point is. Will anyone care? And do I even have the know-how to write about this from an authoritative standpoint? I've certainly never launched a successful Flickr page or group. Who am I to critique?

I finally decided that it doesn't matter. I'm learning so much just by getting my thoughts down on paper and doing this case study, that whether or not anyone reads it or finds it useful is beside the point. Of course, that is still my ultimate goal for this blog--to be useful and helpful and to be read--but if the insight and authority doesn't happen with this post, at the very least this post can help lay the foundation for better, more insightful posts in the future. And so, with that rambling intro, here goes.

The MoMA:

The MoMA's Flickr presence puts The Met to shame. (As it should, because the Met's Flickr presence, as we have seen, is downright shameful.) Their primary group pool boasts a robust 524 members and 3,058 photos, all of which seem to be user-submitted. There are a host of ancillary groups, too: MoMA (Unlimited), MoMA Monday Nights, MoMA Teens, and MoMA Stairs, a group dedicated solely to photographs of the MoMA's famous staircase, which at 91 members trumps the Met's efforts all on its own.

Part of me wonders if the MoMA's success can be attributed to external factors, like for example, that its' collection appeals to a younger audience, one that might be more web-savvy and socially networked. It's a possibility, certainly, but I feel like given the scope of both of these museums' international popularity, that factor should be pretty much negligible. Still, not having any sort of data for comparison's sake about their demographics, attendance numbers, web traffic, etc., it seemed like a worthwhile point to at least consider.

In any case, all the groups seemed to be on the right track but even the most successful pool was largely inactive. Discussion threads were a barren wasteland, nobody seemed to be interacting on these pages, and even when users posted questions asking for help identifying works of art or inquiring about a lighting effect they had seen at a recent exhibition, their questions received no response from the museum staff. I was getting ready to call it a night and give the MoMA a C+ for their efforts when I came across this group: theMoMAproject [NYC].

Holy crap! I seem to have hit the jackpot with this one. Or, rather, the MoMA seems to have hit the jackpot. [Ed Note: Post has been amended after a comment by the Brooklyn Museum's Shelley Bernstein (below) brought to my attention that the MoMA does not, in fact, run this group. The group is community driven. Good for the community. Bad for MoMA? Guess that all depends on how you look at it. Upon re-examination, I can't find any definitive evidence of official MoMA presence participating in the group page/threads, which, in my opinion, is a major oversight on their part. Their score has been amended accordingly.] In comparison to the other group pools I've reviewed, this one is a behemoth: 4,217 members, 28,014 photos and 17 discussion threads (with actual replies! one thread had as many as 836 replies to it!).

So, what exactly makes this group such a rousing successful? Well, for one thing, it seems to be more than just a Flickr pool, but rather a collection portal for another MoMA project called photomoma.org. Like the other groups, it's a place for users to post pictures of art works in the museum, but beyond just contributing their photos to the pool, users are participating in the creation of "a virtual museum" to be called iMoMA (Impressions of MoMA) [Ed Note: iMoMA seems to have been renamed to Photomoma since. The Photomoma site features the same text found on the Flickr page but with "Photomoma" as the name of the project].

You see, it's all very meta.

For each item in MoMA’s collection, iMoMA will have a website displaying photographs visitors to MoMA have taken of that item, capturing their own unique impression of the art MoMA has on display.

The result will be a pastiche of images that will force the viewer to critique their own relationship to the artwork in the photographs. Furthermore, the viewer will have to question whether or not the photographs themselves are works of art. In this way, iMoMA is designed to educate viewers not only about the artwork in the photographs, but about art in general.

And the response has been incredible. Why? Well, for one thing, people love the idea that they are contributing to a project--and for that matter, to an art project, a virtual museum no less! Their little snapshot will be immortalized in an online gallery organized by the MoMA itself, adding an air of importance and credibility. Not only that, but the museum project promises to have all the pictures link back to the user's Flickr profiles, thereby increasing their visibility. And after all, isn't that what it's all about? The motivating factor here is: How can participating in this project help me gain more notoriety and increase the viewership for my own work and "impressions"?

Maybe that last part is a bit cynical, but I think what I'm really trying to get at here is that this project is successful because it provides users with an incentive. It's not a tangible incentive and it's not one that's going to cost the museum the Photomoma project anything, except for maybe the costs of building the website. They're not giving anything away and they're not bribing people, they're just offering them yet another place to display their photos, but in a legitimized space with a lofty, philosophical mission that will allow users to "critique their own relationship to the artwork." People will do a lot for their 15 seconds of fame, and this project gets that and leverages it very well.

So, my final grade for the MoMA: A+ C+, grade changed for reasons noted above and below.     

The Photomoma project is indeed an excellent campaign, but unfortunately, seems to be run by someone other than the MoMA. It seems to be effective and doing well. Plus, I genuinely do like the mission of the project and am an advocate of more museum's having their collections up online--getting patrons to upload pictures of the works seems like an interesting, fun and egaging way to do so. Well done, MoMA!

Natural History Museum Skating Expedition

This is gonna be a quickie.

Last week I wrote about a Twitter exchange I had with the American Natural History Museum where they recommended checking out their Polar Rink. After the Twitter convo, I was excited to go ice skating, and even more pleased with the museum for replying to me personally, so, true to my promise, I decided to organize a group of friends for the skating expedition.

While checking out times and prices I saw something on the website about "synthetic" ice, but not looking into it too closely, I just assumed that it meant the ice was, you know, not a natural pond frozen over or something of the sort. What it ended up being was some sort of weird plastic surface, supposedly an experiment in sustainability...which doesn't even make sense because it's freakin' plastic. I wish they had at least taken the time to warn me. But whatever. That's not even the point.

My friends and I would have been able to look past the fact that we were skating on giant plastic puzzle pieces if you could actually skate on the damn thing. It was impossible. Even my friend Charlie, who is actually a really good skater, could hardly budge an inch without stumbling. You can read his thoughts on the experience here.

Most of all though, my beef with the AMNH is this: clearly this was a failed experimental rink. It got trashed by the CNN travel reporter who visited, and I'm sure we weren't the first group of patrons to be disappointed. A simple search on Twitter reveals countless of disgruntled would-be skaters, and if I had thought to do some research, I would have known that. I took the museum's recommendation at face value because, well, why in the hell would you try to promote something that  sucks? All that would do is generate negative word-of-mouth for your business/brand/non-profit/whatever. Seriously. That is just plain old common sense.

In this instance, I chose to trust the museum and they failed me. The experience ended up being a major let down for my friends, and a bit of an embarassment for me, and generated some more negative word-of-mouth for the museum from my friends, who are all bloggers and Twitter-holics. All of this could have been avoided if the museum had simply taken the time to listen to the conversations happening online and become self-aware of the negative customer reaction to its Polar Rink. Then they wouldn't have wasted my time, and their own, on a failed venture.

Flickr: A case study Pt.1--The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Putting aside for a moment the question of whether cultural institutions should or, for that matter, need to have a presence on social networks and media sharing sites, I decided to take a look at how some of the early adopters are beginning to use them already. For the purpose of this case study I chose Flickr and art museums, which seemed like a natural pairing. If there were one social network that I would expect art museums to be on, it would be Flickr, simply because they deal in the visual medium and an image sharing site and community would probably be an attentive and enthusiastic audience for their content. 

I took a look at the Flickr presence of three prominent NYC museums: the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), and the Brooklyn Museum, and decided to grade each one. You may be surprised to see who earns the best marks.

The Met:

The Met has a group page that isn't very active. There are only 67 members, 4 discussion posts and 509 images in the pool. The group was created 10 months ago but the earliest discussion topic dates back to only 6 weeks ago--I'm not sure what took them so long to get the conversation going.

On the Met's personal profile the scene is hardly any better. The bio reads stiff and impersonal and is peppered with links to the museum's homepage, calendar and exhibitions listings but neglects to point visitors to the museum's other social media presence (I know they at least have a Twitter account, and likely a Facebook fan page or YouTube channel). They've got a measely 86 "contacts" or friends and I wonder if they've ever interacted with any of them, and are only part of two public groups, one being the Met's own group and the other being the Brooklyn Museum's. Meanwhile, the photostream contains a sparse collection of party pics but no art.

To be fair, the museum does seem to maintain another group dedicated specifically to the arts of Africa, Oceania and the Americas, which is only moderately more successful with 98 members, 5 discussions and 1,593 items. But, for comparisons sake, the user-driven group Metropolitan Museum of Art has more members and photos than both of the Met's own groups combined with 397 members and 3,258 items. Here, users interact with one another, comment on each other's submissions and answer one other's questions, generally doing all the things the museum should be doing with its own groups to engage their audience. Where is the Met in these discussions?

Grade: D+

It's nice that they've taken the initiative to set up these groups and profiles, but they need to actively use them and interact with their fans by leaving testimonials or commenting on exemplary pictures uploaded to the photo stream. They should also take the time to monitor fan-generated groups, particularly ones that are more successful than their own.

Note: So, I was originally planning to examine all three museums in the same post, but this has gotten kind of lengthy and since I tend to write late at night, I don't really have the energy to finish this. Plus, seems like it'll be unweildy for reading. I'll look at the other two tommorrow and break it up for everybody's peace of mind.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with this link to a Flickr discussion on museums being suspicious of new media.

No, but really, what does it all mean?

These past couple of days I haven't been able to think about much else other than what exactly it is that I want to explore in this blog and, consequently, in the meetup I've started.

At the intersection of arts, culture and technology there exists a wide array of possibilities for integration and collaboration. There are many talented artists out there using technology to create amazing digital art, blurring the line between what constitutes art and what constitutes...well, a cool computer program, for instance. I am fascinated and awed by people with that kind of imagination and creativity, but, truth be told, they were not my intended audience--neither for this blog, nor for the meetup.

I don't want to exclude anyone from the conversation I am intending on initiating with both these projects, but I don't want to have the conversation veer off course and take on a life of its own, either. What interests me about the possibilities of integrating arts and technology in new and interesting ways is the opportunity this affords to help people experience and understand the arts in ways that were previously impossible. Democratizing the arts, or more specifically, increasing the access to and accessability of the arts is what is at the heart of my projects.

I've spent the past two Sundays at the MoMA, each time with very different company--first it was my 12-year-old sister and 14-year-old cousin, then it was my 70-year-old grandparents. As can be expected, their reactions to the works we saw and level of interest varied a bit. The kids, of course, sulked about the museum and couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. When asked why they were having such a miserable time at the museum, my cousin replied, "It's just so boring--I don't see the point of going to museums. If I wanted to see paintings, I could look them up on the internet." (A sentiment which may warrant it's own blog post to fully explore). But as different as the experiences were, the one thing they had in common was a need for understanding, for context, for explanations.

My grandparents aggravated me to no end at the Miro exhibition. They kept asking me to explain what the paintings meant, or speculating on what the artist must have been thinking. What, exactly, was old Joan trying to communicate by attaching a segment of rope to his canvas and splattering it with black paint? What were the weird and trippy little figurines meant to convey? What was this man thinking? What was the philosophy behind his work? They wanted to KNOW, and they wanted to know right then and there, and they didn't care about the fact that I simply didn't have any answers.

Regardless of whether you're of the school of thought that art is meant to be subjective or the school of thought that art is meant to communicate the artist's unique point of view, I think people will always be curious about what the artist was thinking when he or she created a piece of art. It's one of the most common questions I hear people asking when they're standing in front of a painting, particularly if they don't get it. Adding context helps people develop a sense of appreciation. I sure as hell didn't get what the big deal about Marcel Duchamp and his urinal was the first time I ever saw a photo of it and couldn't fathom, for the life of me, WHY this man had gone down in the art history books.

Which brings me back to the Brooklyn Museum (oh yes, the Brooklyn again...you'll be hearing about them quite a bit). They recently just installed iPod touches into an exhibition called Burning Down the House: Building A Feminist Art Collection. The iPods play video of the artists explaining their work, their process, their philosophy, and so forth. The videos themselves are intimate and personal, they fairly low-fi as they were shot on the cheap with another innovation in tech simplicity--the Flip camera.

What a novel idea! Why don't more museums do things like this?

I guess my very circuitous point is this: my interest lies more in using technology to add context and deepen people's understanding (and by extension, appreciation) of the cultural works they're interacting with, to gain a better understanding of HOW people are interacting with those works, and to extend their experience beyond the museum visit, or the play, or the concert or what have you. It doesn't necessarily end there, but that's what's captured my attention for the time being, and as long as that's the case, perhaps I should refine the focus of my projects accordingly.

I Gots Me a Meetup!

So...I started a meetup group yesterday. Well, technically I started it last Friday and it went public yesterday morning, but who really cares about technicalities, right? It, like this blog, is focused on exploring the interesection of Arts, Culture & Techonolgy (seeing a pattern here?).

To be honest, I didn't really anticipate much of a draw for my little group. To me, it seemed like it would be way too niche to appeal to any more than a handful of people, so my goals were pretty modest--amass maybe 20-30 members in the first month and maybe a group of 10 or so for the first meetup (scheduled for Thursday, January 15th at Art Bar, if you're interested).

Boy, was I wrong.

Since yesterday morning 57 members have joined the group, 22 RSVP'd Yes for the event, and 14 Maybe. I'm not sure if this is a typical response for groups on meetup, but judging from the reaction I've received from the Meetup staff, my guess is no. And the best part is,the group just keeps on growing! It's making it difficult to focus on anything else in my haze of giddy excitement. Every time my phone buzzes with another meetup member notification, I drop what I'm doing and go to the group's page to check out my newest cohort.

Reading people's responses to the profile questions I added--"What interests you about this group? What do you hope to get out of it?"--has been incredibly interesting and inspiring, too. Here is just a brief sampling:

“media artist, performer, social entrepreneur, skydiver. Things I find tasty: networked performance, motion capture / movement-based, sensor-driven synthesis, performance in virtual environments like Second Life. http://funksoup.com/bio.htm”

"I'm still loving the web and started out as an artist/writer so I'm completely fascinated by the prospect of bringing my major romances together."

"I'm an artist with a psychology and science background. As a modern Zen practioner I enjoy turning analog paintings into digitally reworked pieces.That an art piece can exist as only as wall paper s fine with me.I'm not a techology expert. I'm interested in art,technology and recreating a subculture that is anti-nihlistic,although many plunge into darkness during these 'interesting times'."

"have an arsenal of paintings and can't seem to get past the velvet rope of the art world mafia."

"I am a consultant who works in the media, entertainment, and technology sectors -- I joined for the great networking opportunity."

"I'm a technology guy interested in the arts, and applying technologies there (specifically mobile technologies)."

I'm really excited to see that my group, and more specifically, my curiosity, has brought together such a diverse and interesting bunch of people working in every facet of the arts-technology spectrum. I can't wait to meet them and for them to meet one another, start up a discussion, maybe start some collaborations, and to see what sorts of innovative projects come out of those relationships.

But, to be honest, I'm also a little terrified. Could this diversity make the group too unfocused to ever become a cohesive community? What is my role, as organizer, in shaping and guiding the group? How much influence and control should I be weilding here? Or should I just open it up to the masses and see what happens?

I've never organized anything in my life. I have initiative, don't get me wrong, but I'm more of a joiner than a starter. I'm not 100% sure what's going to be expected of me here, and how much I should or can consider this group as my own. Initially, I started it asa vehicle for exploring my interests and connecting with people who have similar interests with the purpose of connecting them to one another and listening in on the discussion that ensues. But at what point does the group cease to be a product of the organizer and take on a life of its own?...And is it appropriate for me to be having these questions before I even host the first meetup? Did I mention I have a tendency to over-think things?