To see True/Slant vanish into the ether of the Internet is a shame. And I would be fooling myself if I said that I won’t miss the thriving and intelligent online destination it had become. The people that I met here — both contributors and commentors — reminded me, on a regular basis, that people are surprising and insightful. These are details I often overlook given my rather cynical worldview. But sadly, all things end, especially in publishing.

For those interested in keeping up with me, please visit my website over at Annals of Americus. I welcome your comments and continued discussion. Annals has been up and running since January, and is filled with a catalog of writings — from personal essays and daily notes, to commentary and reporting. The site is updated daily. Last week I launched an email newsletter through the site (view it here). Please feel free to sign up if you’d like to receive updates. Also, you can follow me on Twitter or add me as a friend on Facebook. And starting this week, I begin my tenure at Thought Catalog. So please stay tuned.

Thanks to Coates Bateman, Michael Roston, Andrea Spiegel, Kashmir Hill, and Chloe Angyal for all of their help this past year. I joined True/Slant in May of 2009 (brought on by Kash), and the experience has been, by far, one of the most positive I’ve had as a writer. Best wishes to all.

‘The Pierced Boy,’ click to enlarge. (Photo: San Jose Mercury News)

With all of True/Slant saying farewell, it feels lonely posting anything at all today. But before I sign off, there’s one last thing I’d like to share, a photograph I stumbled across several months back while paging through one of my old journalism textbooks. Looking at the image triggers flashbacks to my Journo 101 class in the basement of the University of Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Learning, where during one of our exercises our professor showed us shocking images and asked us to decide what was newsworthy and what was sensational. We were shown countless photographs that day. But only one remains seared into my memory, this shot from the San Jose Mercury News. Here’s what the caption read:

Some editors who ran this photograph thought the image taught a lesson in a way words could not: This is what can happen when a youth tries to climb a six-foot fence with spikes on top. Twenty-six percent of the San Jose (Calif.) Mercury News journalists said they would publish the photo, and 23 percent of their readers agreed. (The boy survived the piercing.)

This image of The Pierced Boy mesmerized me when I first saw it — just as the Faces of Death videos once did as a teenager. The photo is raw and unfiltered in its honesty. And if you’ve ever severely injured yourself, it probably conjures that moment of panic you experienced just as you realized what was happening. But what purpose does it serve the public in publishing it? I wondered this when seeing the image again for the first time in over 10 years, and asked a couple editors from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette what they thought.

“I would probably not publish this photo,” said Andy Starnes, photo editor at the paper. “I don’t really think there is much to be learned from it and find that reason somewhat self-serving. I think most people would be disturbed by the image and while not believing in censorship per se, I find little to be gained from running it.”

When I then corresponded with John Allison, an associate editor at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, we talked more about ethics in photojournalism.

“My hunch is that the ethics for photojournalism have not changed much from 10 years ago in terms of the publishing of images that are shocking or possibly distasteful,” Allison told me by email. “At least for the sober, mainstream press — and I think that our impulse is to remain or even become more ‘decent’ — rather than try to compete with TMZ or Web sites with wild images, we are the solid, sensible oasis.”

Allison’s final words there, the notion that stalwart local newspapers often remain the “the solid, sensible oasis” says something about the business of news in general. There are still readers, hundreds of thousands I assume, who still view their local newspaper (whether in print or electronic format) as a valuable community resource. With cynicism so pervasive among today’s media analysis, I think it’s easy to forget that people do in fact rely on the service we all provide.

So, before I go, I wonder what your take is on The Pierced Boy: Would you publish this photograph?

With True/Slant in its final days, I’ve decided to forego the sentimental (at least for now), and share a few more pieces with readers before the lights are turned off. Of the dozens of would-be posts in my publishing queue (and there are many), I’ve been wanting to post this short film, called Borderland, for weeks now.

With the drama coming to a head this week in Arizona over the attempted passage of SB1070 (careful, that’s a PDF), the bill that proposes a crackdown on illegal immigration, a film like this is more timely than ever. In Borderland, filmmakers Drea Cooper & Zackary Canepari (California is a Place) take a nuanced look at border security and illegal immigration from two very personal perspectives:

Dick is right. “Every American should see this.” It is real and it is striking. In some places it stands 18 feet tall and looks like the gates of Mordor. In other places, it is barely 10 feet tall and looks like it was put together with a stapler. It runs from the Colorado River directly into the Pacific. It is big, intense and intimidating. And it is unfinished. Gaping holes are everywhere. Physically it’s confusing. Politically it’s puzzling. Ideologically it’s complicated. But for Dick and Ron, who both live within a few miles of the border, defending it is simply a matter of protecting themselves and preserving their own beliefs. Drug smugglers don’t come to the United States to make an honest living. As the recent killing of Border Patrol Agent Robert Rosas shows, the border is more than a moral line in the sand. The fence is real. We recommend a visit. (via California is a Place)

Watching this film made me feel closer to the issue than any of the television coverage, or the endless ranting blog posts. Hope it helps lend some shred of insight on what’s become a severely divisive issue.

"Anybody want to see second prize? Second prize is a set of steak knives," Blake says.

In the film Glengarry Glenn Ross, the character of Blake, played by Alec Baldwin, utters an oft-quoted line following the famous ’steak knives’ scene: “A-B-C. A-Always, B-Be, C-Closing. Always be closing, always be closing.” In the context of the film, Blake repeats this mantra so as to burn it into the minds of his underperforming sales force, reminding them that their failure to sell condos and time shares will only result in termination. It’s not so much a morale booster as it is a warning to those lacking the killer instinct required in sales. But on a grander scale, Blake is talking about selling — no matter the product, no matter the price.

I was reminded of this scene while watching a new ad campaign for Coke’s energy drink, called Burn (see video below). It’s a dilemma I think about often, the fact that so much of today’s creative output is subsidized by corporate dollars, and the blurry ethical line this infusion of cash can create among those tasked to produce the work — art directors, graphic designers, illustrators, photographers, animators, etc.

Look at the visual aesthetic of the Burn campaign, for example. Imagine it was, in essence, a stand alone short film — not a commercial disguised as a short film. What does it mean? There are stark colors, skateboarders, an emotive musical score. But we’ve seen all that before — highly emotionalized ad spots. In fact, its become increasingly commonplace in the way products are marketed to us. The young men in the film weave through the city, their movements captured in crisp high-definition as they each burst into flames and continue to skate.

Aesthetically, it’s a beautiful piece of work. But when you take into account that you are being sold an energy drink, it’s hard not to feel cheated. In fact, it’s hard not to view this as anything less than bait and switch. Campaigns like this promise a film but provide no narrative substance, no evolutionary character development. That’s because there are no true characters, just models urging you to immerse yourself in a contrived coolness engineered by marketers, to desire a drink (a detail you learn only after being led down the Burn.com rabbit hole) that promises nothing but to temporarily jack your heart rate. It’s an elaborately convoluted sales pitch wrapped in artistry — a practice that has become the norm these days (and, obviously, the basis of all advertising). Coke, and so many companies like it, are no longer just hawking a single product, but instead selling you the life you want to have, the circle of friends you want to be a part of, a holistic physical manifestation of a target demographic.

In fact, this approach has taken the once subtle art of product placement down a nefarious path. It’s nothing new that corporations are desperate to enter the bloodstream of global youth culture. But it used to be that the creative minds borne of these cultures and subcultures (i.e. skateboarding, graffiti, hip-hop, metal, punk/hardcore, etc.) had a healthy distrust of those looking to cash in (read: desperate corporate overlord types) on their interests. But in truth, the pitch men (and women) are no longer plucked from a corner office in a company’s marketing department. Today’s culture brokers are the very people who forged the movements they now co-opt for cash. It’s a new cultural landscape of self-made entrepreneurs, those specializing in analyzing/monetizing trends, lending their cultural insight to the highest bidder. And while right now there is an unprecedented boom in creativity, the poacher’s market is also increasingly ripe.

As an example, back in May I was contacted by a woman from a viral marketing firm who sent me a press release regarding The Creators Project, a collaborative promotional campaign between Intel and Vice magazine. I receive hundreds of press releases each week. But this particular message stood out to me:

The Creators Project is a new network dedicated to the celebration of creativity and culture across media, and around the world. This video features James Lavelle discussing inspiration and collaboration and letting us in to the world of Unkle and his fantastic label Mowax. If you post this on your site in your MPU player or as part of an editorial, we can pay you for every UK based click to play.

Sure, pay-per-click returns are nothing new, but this was the first time I’d ever been so shamelessly solicited by a marketing firm. And this is not uncommon. The campaign to inject advertising into original content in television, film, and print media has been ongoing for decades. But today, the practice is pervasive. And as future generations come of age, it becomes harder for them to discern the difference between editorial and advertorial, engineered content and genuine artistry. In essence, there is no difference between reality and nonreality. When creativity — and the notion of creativity — is so widely subsidized, how can the purity of its vision be trusted?

[Video by Arnaud Jordain]

In the halcyon days of advertising, digital billboards would have been viewed as grotesque and intrusive, an affront to the delicate sensibilities of American consumers — an audience that once held great sway in the minds of corporate leadership. Madison Avenue’s elite creative minds were, for a fleeting moment, above such shenanigans. Today, however, eyeballs — and more so attention spans — are at a greater premium than ever before. And like the claustrophobic city scenes from Neo Tokyo or the dystopian Los Angeles portrayed in Ridley Scott’s Bladerunner, attracting the eyes of a targeted demographic now requires the ability to powerfully disrupt the public space.

One example of such wholesale public disruption can be seen in Times Square, where youth clothing brand Forever 21 (which now inhabits the old Virgin Megastore) has transformed its billboard into a crowdsourced sideshow. With technical/creative direction from Space 150, the billboard employs the use of high-tech surveillance cameras, computer vision technology, and a playful female model that interacts with the massive crowds, essentially creating a steroid-infused social media platform in the tourist core of Manhattan:

the new digital billboard features virtual models interacting with the crowd in a number of ways: a polaroid is taken of the street and instantly shown by the model to the crowd, an individual is picked up and turned into a frog by a kiss, while some are snuck under a hat or dropped into a shopping bag to get toted off the screen. for this to work, space150 required the use of high-tech surveillance equipment and computer vision technology. the software identifies and maps the people below which allows the computer to build a composite image of them in near real-time. this data is then used for the simulation with the virtual model as shown on the 61-foot screen. the computer also has the ability to pick out the yellow forever 21 shopping bags in a crowd. those who are standing below with the shopping bag are more likely to get picked up by the model. other features of the project include ‘love tweets’, a live on-screen feed of twitter messages from fans that include the words ‘forever 21′ and ‘love’. below the billboard, the entrance of the store uses thermal imaging cameras to trigger paparazzi-like flashes when a customer walks through the door. (via Designboom)

This concept feeds into our collective desire to be loved, the idea that we each deserve to be the main character in our own reality show — or worse yet, that our life is in fact a reality show. When Andy Warhol declared in 1968 that — “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes” — even he couldn’t have known how prophetic the statement would become — and that it would apply in so many ways. By now Warhol’s words have become contrite, the phrase most often invoked to explain international obsession with reality television and the ever-present cult of celebrity. But it seems Warhol’s Nostradamus-like prediction is most often evidenced in the nebulous realm of advertising — an industry hell bent on, quite literally, augmenting the very reality of our everyday lives.

In his assessment of the billboard, Dangerous Minds’ Marc Campbell references a fitting quote from Marshall McLuhan: “Madison Avenue is a very powerful aggression against private consciousness. A demand that you yield your private consciousness to public manipulation.” If McLuhan were still around to witness how invasive the reach of advertising has become, I wonder if he might say we are beyond salvation.

In an age where political upstarts use every tool available to gain exposure, Basil Marceaux is decidedly lo-fi — despite the Web 1.0 “Dot Com” in his name. As one of the Republican candidates for governor in Tennessee’s upcoming mid-term elections, Mr. Marceaux is a curious case. In a recent televised address aired on WSMV-TV, it’s hard to tell — on first look — whether Marceaux is nervous, had recently been beaten about the head and face with a sack of old doorknobs, or perhaps a little bit of both. The resulting public address is equal parts terror and amusement.

While much will be written about Marceaux in the next few days (as he quickly burns his way through a Minor Internet Celebrity Famecycle), mainly fueled by a bored American workforce spreading OMGs and LOLs among friends, there’s something to admire in the man’s apparent buffoonery. He’s rather honestly asserted himself, however haphazardly, into a political process permeated with cynicism and contempt. It appears Marceaux means well, if only in his own mind. But given his abysmally scatterbrained platform — I’m gonna remove all goldfinch flags from the state! — good intentions (that only make sense to him) don’t amount to much of anything.

Cannonball is a short film focused on a very specific side effect of The Great Recession: A glut of foreclosed homes in Fresno, California, and tons of empty swimming pools that have attracted legions of the city’s skateboarders. Armed with sump pumps and skate decks, the subjects in Cannonball provide a unique look at the nationwide fallout of the economic crisis. Instead of seeing the country through the eyes of those who have lost so much, we instead see the opportunities these losses have created.

It’s impossible to watch this film and not be reminded of the exploits of the Z-Boys (Tony Alva, Jay Adams, Stacy Peralta, etc.) skate crew, who took great advantage of the Los Angeles drought of the 1970s — as residents were forced to drain their pools — and subsequently invented/pioneered modern skateboarding culture. Produced by the gentlemen at California is a Place (Drea Cooper and Zackary Canepari), Cannonball manages to tackle the tough subject of economic hardship in a compelling (and visually stunning) format. It’s a reminder of how important storytelling can be.

Last week M.I.A. was interviewed by DJ Skeet on the KIIS FM morning show out of Los Angeles. They talked about stuff, important stuff. And when he wasn’t fawning over her, Skeet even managed to eek out a question or two, mainly focusing on how she’s known for being controversial and political and outspoken, and other stuff like that.

When asked about her thoughts on stuff like the Arizona immigration law, M.I.A. quickly illuminated the issue for KIIS listeners:

“I don’t want to say fucked-up shit, but I feel like Obama should just step in and, you know…. you can’t have that kind of stuff in your backyard. It just seems so backwards to me. And I think, being an immigrant and stuff, I feel it. You know, when ‘Born Free’ came out, and everybody was freaking out and stuff, and two weeks later they shot this kid, you know. To see something that you make up and was fictional, to it actually being a real story that’s actually supported by governments and stuff.  It’s really weird to me (Skeet: it’s crazy), yeah it’s crazy, because actually the immigrants do support this state and are the pillar of it and actually.”

With immigration reform in Arizona succinctly analyzed, Skeet and M.I.A. moved on to other stuff, namely the BP oil spill, which appeared to be a sensitive topic for the outspoken songstress:

Yeah, I don’t want to really, like, I left my controversial coat at home today (laughter from Skeet). No, it’s just weird because Obam’s like, slap on the wrist to the BP guys. But at the same time he OK’d more drilling. And, in fact, it was the U.S. who authorized more sort of offshore drilling and stuff. Um, nothing’s happened about that.

And like that, more stuff talked about in such detail that no other questions can possibly remain. When I attempted to watch the remainder of this video, I feared the experience might induce a seizure. So I opted out. There’s only so much learnin’ one can handle in a single session, and stuff.

Jonathan Yeo's NSFW portrait of Sarah Palin. (click to enlarge)

For the better part of the last year, bloggers have frantically attempted to wring every possible cent from keyword-rich stories covering Sarah Palin, Tiger woods (see above headline for proof), and a dozen other celebrity names coveted like gold in The Often Trifling Age of Pageview Journalism. It’s become a weekly, if not daily, ritual. It’s shameless, like so much of the Internet these days. But what really makes it so heartbreaking, or perhaps just downright sad, is that it means writers have essentially become the ditch diggers of the Internet, eternally filling bottomless content holes with disposable stories that nobody will remember in two days, or more realistically, two minutes.

It turns out though that writers are not alone in this scheme. Artists are complicit too.

This notion — the delicate relationship between art and commerce — struck me while reading a brief about artist Jonathan Yeo’s latest exhibition, “Porn in the U.S.A,” which opened at Lazarides Gallery in Los Angeles last Thursday. While the title is suggestive, and a semi-clever pun (two things that definitely don’t fly for journalism in the days of search engine optimization), it’s also intended to stoke controversy — like all of his work.

Yeo, as some may know, is known for creating collage-like portraits assembled using clippings from glossy porno magazines. “I try to make collages that don’t look like collages, and I think I’m really kind of painting with the porn,” Yeo has said of his work. “I don’t want to sound pretentious about it, but the process is more like painting in terms of the compositional decisions you make.”

He’s probably best known for his porntrait portrait of Paris Hilton (complete with penis thumb… NSFW) from his debut show at Lazarides in 2008, a piece that was famously purchased by Damien Hirst. The name recognition of Yeo’s subjects, and the attention he draws by using porn as his medium, feels a bit like artworld hucksterism.

Jonathan Yeo's NSFW portrait of Tiger Woods. (click to enlarge)

“It was important to do a couple of eye-catching ones where people would get the joke as a way of leading people into it,” Yeo told Artinfo.com about his latest show. “But hopefully they’ll come in and find there’s all sorts of things they weren’t expecting. There are two potential audiences: the knowing art world people — people who will come down because they have an idea of what’s going on — and the people who come by because of the massive walk-by pedestrian traffic.”

That last thing that Yeo says, the notion that a percentage of those who view his work will be uninformed gawkers attracted by the mere sight of a large crowd, is telling. His porn and celebrity sales pitch are far from unheard of. In fact, the two topics are tried and true public attention grabbers. Yeo’s particular choice to cast Palin in porn is a not-so-subtle exploitation of her often sexually-charged image. Just as his decision is to give Tiger Woods the same treatment (NSFW: View here). When Yeo’s portrait of Palin makes its round on the Internet — ‘painted’ in pubic hair and clean-shaven vaginas, erect penises and glistening seamen-drenched skin — conservatives will be outraged and progressives will feign disgust. And Yeo will walk away with fistfuls of cash.

It begs the question, how much interest in art these days — whether visual art, music, writing, etc. — is driven by hype? And how often does the art itself live up to the expectation of how it was marketed or sold? Back in the pre-Internet world, consumers would cry fowl of such disregard for quality control, claiming bait-and-switch tactics when disappointed by the end product. But today things are different for some reason. Perhaps expectations are at an all-time low, or maybe most of us have just stopped caring.