Digital Dilemma, Digital Photos

One Magical Device

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I love my smartphone and the conveniences it offers me.  But at the same time, it feels like a paradox.  My smartphone is amazing and magical because it can do so many different things.  It can be a camera, a stereo, a notepad, a photo album, a messaging centre, a calendar, a task management system, a grocery list and a way to make good old fashioned phone calls.

However, when one device serves so many different roles it’s bound to get complicated at some point.  For the past few years I’ve been trying to ween myself from taking notes on paper and using my smartphone directly to record my thoughts.  Whenever I take notes digitally at an event, I always feel like I have to explain this to the other people in the room so I don’t look like I’m distracted texting and messaging the whole time.

Other complications also arise with the camera functions.  I’ve been in many locker rooms that forbid the use of smartphones and other devices because of the recording capabilities.  However, many people use their phones to track fitness information.  In this sense, it’s no different from using a notebook to record the latest workout, except the phone can also be a camera whereas the notebook is always just a notebook.

This also gets complicated for professionals who work in industries where taking pictures is prohibited, but the phone may be needed to access other types of information such as contacts, scheduling, or even simply to be contacted.  Earlier this summer I heard a story about nursing home aides taking pictures of the patients and then posting them on social media accounts.  According to the article, this action wasn’t against the law because none of the photos were of genitalia, even though they were clearly exploiting and humiliating a vulnerable population.

Restricting the camera isn’t the solution, especially when there are so many dependencies on all the other available functions.  And even if the camera could be restricted other wearable devices, such as a smartwatch, could be used instead.

Probably the worst aspect of having one magical device is that when it goes down, everything goes with it and you’re left with nothing.  It seems to be all or nothing, making it difficult to restrict certain functions while still maintaining the other necessary ones.

 

Digital Dilemma, Digital Photos, Social Media

Intrusion

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With so many people eager to capture, record, and track so many different aspects of their lives, it’s bound to infringe on other people’s privacy at some point.  Several years ago I might not have been that concerned about it.  Recently AI (artificial intelligence) and facial recognition capabilities have been improving exponentially.  It’s likely possible for my generic-looking mug to be identified in somebody else’s pictures or videos.  Maybe I don’t want to end up documented in somebody’s lifelog “archive”, or be identified (i.e. tagged) in other people’s social media accounts.

What bothers me the most about this is I can’t control when, how, or why I’m going to be captured on somebody else’s device.  Once captured, I have no control over what happens with my image or my voice.  With so many wearable devices it can be difficult to discern when somebody with whom you’re interacting is recording that exchange.  It could be a video recording, an audio recording, or a picture.  There could even be other apps and services at work behind the scenes reporting on all kinds of information about me to the other person, e.g. where I work or social media profile details.  In the future, it may also be possible for the other person to collect biometric details about me.  After that I would have virtually no control over, or opinion about, what happens to that information about me.

I’ve already had several experiences where I discovered people taking pictures or making recordings of me surreptitiously.  It makes me self-conscious and suspicious.  I never know when I’m going to be recorded.  And if I am captured in some way, I have no idea how/when those images or recordings will be used in the future.  Other times I’ve discovered myself tagged in other people’s Facebook profiles and that’s only because I have an FB account.  I know I can untag myself, but the picture is still there to be discovered some other way, like through facial recognition software.

I find it hard to strike a balance.  Of course I want everybody to take pictures of what they like, but not when it infringes on my sense of privacy or it’s something that I can’t control in some way.  Not sure what the solution is, but I guess we’re all in it together as the ones doing the surveillance and the ones being surveilled.

 

 

 

 

Digital Dilemma

The Quantified Self

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Similar to Lifelogging, the Quantified Self is another activity based on wearing/using devices to track and record specifics about your daily life or habits.  Some of the more popular things to track include sleep habits/quality, fitness, heart rate, blood pressure, moods, finances, and food consumption.  Once captured, the data can be integrated with lifelogging apps or analyzed.

Admittedly, there are probably a lot of advantages to tracking certain aspects of one’s life.  I often read about how useful some of this detailed tracking can be when visiting the doctor, especially if one has a condition that must be monitored carefully. Every time the doctor asks “And how long have you been experiencing X?”, I’m fairly likely to respond with a vague answer like “a while,” or “off and on for a few months.”  When there’s something going on with our bodies, it can be challenging to isolate the exact cause.

However, when we elect to generate so much personal data about our health or financial well-being, it’s important to consider who has access to this information.  We may think it’s only for us, but most apps come with porous privacy policies, incomprehensible terms of service, and sneaky relationships with third-party providers who are eager to attract our business.  What if your health insurance premiums escalate because of your fitbit data?

Although I can see lots of potential benefits with tracking aspects of ourselves, whenever I’ve manually tracked something to identify (or monitor) a problem, part of the solution was based on having more awareness and consciousness about what I was doing.  I just wonder with so many devices automatically tracking stuff about my body/life, is that really beneficial?  Will it capture too much data and complicate the analyses?  Will I spend so much of my time tracking, recording, and analyzing data that I won’t have time left to live?

I firmly believe that the human body contains a lot of wisdom, but only if we’re engaged enough to pay attention to what it’s telling us.  I don’t need an app to tell me I had a bad night’s sleep, I gauge it based on how I feel when I wake up.  I’m sure we’ll find a way to balance the benefits of using technology to accurately and automatically track aspects of our lives, without becoming so disengaged from the process that we forget how to listen to our bodies.

 

 

 

Digital Dilemma, Digital Photos, Social Media

Lifelogging

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Wearable devices and new technological capabilities are increasing the ease with which people can participate in lifelogging, the act of capturing and recording every moment of your life, kind of like a diary.  The first time I heard about this in 2005 in reference to Gordon Bell’s MyLifeBits project, the only thing I could think was why would this be appealing?  (Article here.)

Fitbits, smartwatches, and attachable cameras are all examples of wearable devices worn on the body to record and track various aspects of our lives.  Naturally apps have been developed to create lifelogs and attract followers, such as Saga, Lifelogger, and Narrative (video below).

As The Deletist this is exactly the kind of mindless saving that makes me wonder, what’s the point?  To just blindly capture, record, track, and save every moment of my life just because I can seems a bit pointless to me.  People barely take the time to go through photos, videos, and other types of recordings that they make consciously.  Who would take the time to go through the volumes of data captured automatically to weed out the crappy stuff?  Also, many of my memories are formed around intangible sensations, like smells, touch, and emotions, the kinds of things technology is not good at capturing and connecting.

As an archivist, and somebody who prefers quality over quantity, I have serious issues with dumping everything into some magical “archive.”  Where’s the lifelog curator app?  When so many things are acquired and saved without criteria or a plan, the new challenge is not to retrieve the desired information, but rather to remember that you even have it to search through.  I suppose the goal of the lifelog “archive” is to index everything so meticulously that you wouldn’t have to remember if you had it.  You could just ask any question and have the searching done automatically, of course with the understanding that anything stored, including unpleasant memories you may be working hard to forget, could also be retrieved.

Naturally I also feel nervous thinking about the security involved with maintaining huge amounts of personal data.  I’ve personally never considered having a lifelog.  I have enough information to manage as part of my daily life and I’m not arrogant enough to think every minute of my daily life is worth retaining.  There’s a reason human brains are designed to forget things.

Human Archives

Release

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I’ve been playing music for over 30 years.  One of the things I love best about music is creating something each time I play my instrument.

A couple summers ago I participated in a weekly event called Classical Social.  Musicians showed up at a certain time in a bar.  We were grouped together based on our instruments and had to sight read music in front of the patrons.  While we played, people would post pictures and clips of the performances to various social media sites.  I loved the involvement and participation, but having everything recorded often created a conflict between my memories and interpretation versus what I could replay.

One of my least favorite pieces of music is Ravel’s Bolero, both for listening and performing.  The beginning of the piece features the bassoon with one of the hardest solos in our entire repertoire.  After that stress is over, the bassoon plays the same note over and over for five pages of music.  Super boring.

Four years ago I flubbed the solo during a performance, which happened to have been recorded.  I finally listened to it a couple of years later though I felt conflicted about it.  The recording re-enforces a singular way to remember the performance.  It doesn’t afford me the luxury to recreate my memory of the event in anyway other than the one where I messed up, one where I might be able to convince myself it wasn’t really that bad.  (Admittedly, it wasn’t really that bad.  At the very least, I started and ended at the right times.)

However, I don’t need the recording to act as a constant reminder of what did and didn’t happen.  The memory of the piece lives in my cells and tissues.  Just hearing the familiar staccato beat of the snare drum is enough to make my palms sweaty and my stomach queasy, even if it’s playing on the radio or in a commercial.

I couldn’t imagine my life without being able to listen to music whenever I want, but at the same time, I don’t necessarily enjoy having my playing recorded.  For me the thrill and enjoyment is in the live performance.  Once I play the notes they’re released into the universe and I can focus on the next ones coming at me, remaining fully present in the moment.

Human Archives, Spring Cleaning, True Confessions

Transforming Our Stuff

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When my father died going through his personal affairs was a huge process.  Not only was there a lot of stuff, but it all reminded me of him.  I often felt cranky and upset.  We packed up some of his favorite clothes to keep.  A woman in my bereavement group had mentioned that she had a quilt made out of her mother’s clothes.  She said it was a huge comfort for her.  I decided that would be a nice idea to do with dad’s clothes, at some point.

After a few years we made a feeble attempt at finding a quilter.  More years passed, without the quilts.  Finally, sometime around the 12-year anniversary of his death I decided it was time to get the quilts.  His clothes had been sitting virtually untouched in a bedroom closet, getting older and more fragile with each passing year.

A few internet searches later, I found someone in Virginia who specialized in Memory Quilts. I picked a size and placed the order.  Next we picked which clothes we wanted for our quilts. We dumped the clothes onto the floor and started pawing through the pile.  We ended up with four bags, one for each of us and one of items shared between me and my brother.

The quilter let us pick background colors.  We left the patterns up to the quilter.  She updated us on the progress.  A few months later, the quilts arrived!

My memory quilt. Royal blue was one of my father's favorite colors.

My memory quilt. Royal blue was one of my father’s favorite colors.

Here’s my mother’s quilt.

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Mom’s quilt.

And my brother’s quilt with the nice, sunny background.

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My brother’s quilt. Nice sunny, background.

I thought I would feel sad and cranky going through his clothes to pick them for the quilts, but it ended up being cathartic. I even learned a couple things, like my father still had his wedding shirt from 1970! Who knew he was so sentimental!  My mother, naturally, selected this one for her quilt. Interestingly enough, even though the wedding shirt was only in my mother’s pile, the quilter somehow intuited its importance and managed to sneak a little piece into every quilt.

I love the quilt. It’s a huge relief to and comfort for me to have transformed his clothes into something useful, protective, and nice to look at.