Preview: Between the Lines/High Tech, Low Life

Between the Lines, a three-day programme of talks, debates and films about documentaries, kicks off this Friday at the Rich Mix in London. A collaboration between the Frontline Club and Dochouse, this event explores the challenges facing filmmakers, investigative journalists and citizen reporters in the new media age. Themes include subjectivity vs objectivity, freedom of expression vs integrity of sources and authenticity vs creative interpretation. A host of respected figures will take part including Life in a Day director Kevin McDonald, Occupy Wall Street Livestreamer Tim Pool, Truthloader editor Dan Bell and head of news and current affairs at Channel 4, Dorothy Byrne.

Last year Sundance director Robert Redford told the BBC that documentaries had replaced newspapers as the media's main source of investigative journalism. Compare the falling public confidence in media ethics post-Leveson and Savile with the breakthrough international success of personal truths on film such as 5 Broken Cameras, Central Park Five and The House I Live In, and he may just be on to something. 

A documentary used to be niche viewing: either eye-opening discoveries while channel-flicking on the sofa – think moments with Attenborough – or esoteric VHS/DVD pass-arounds for curious culture vultures (La Chappelle's Rize, for instance). Over the past 15 years, these more informative features have become box office sensations: Bowling for Columbine, March of the Penguins, Enron, An Inconvenient Truth, Inside Job, Super Size Me, Catfish, Exit Through the Gift Shop, Man on Wire, Senna, The Imposter; the list is long, lucrative and littered with awards.

Then there is Rodriguez. When a film about a largely unknown musician from Detroit becomes an international success – from Letterman to Leno, BAFTA to Oscar – you know that something extraordinary is happening. Of course, some things never change. People like to hear passionate stories about other people, particularly the underdog. But there is also a growing demand for more depth and authenticity in the things that we choose to spend our time and money on.

Unquestionably, it is technology that has made us so receptive and eager to consume knowledge about the world we live in. We share much more of ourselves as well: mobile phones and digital cameras have democratised storytelling. The age-old corridors of power in mass media – TV, radio, press, government – are being eclipsed by social media and citizen reporters are only too eager to give their version of events.

We crave unmediated information and real-time news from the street. Power lobbies are being torn apart and everyone is accountable (in theory). Beyond simply being another form of news gathering, the documentary as a medium provides a way for these frontline journalists to generate awareness for their particular cause and to build a compelling case over time – something that newspapers rarely have the time to do.

Censorship is the great enemy of these truth tellers. So it's only fitting that one of the films being shown on Thursday 28 February in the build-up to Between the Lines is Steve Maing's High Tech, Low Life, an absorbing tale of two dissident bloggers in China, very different characters from two different generations, and yet united in their determination to breach "the Great Firewall", which threatens to shackle the world's largest population. 

Updated

Vegetable seller Zola is a restless, ambitious 27 year old, keen to make a name for himself as a reporter as he covers stories about houses being torn down, suspected murder and public acts of defiance. In one scene he argues with his expectant parents and proclaims that, "the individual comes first, not the country." As he builds his following, his persona – even making an appearance at the World Blogging Forum in Romania – you can tell that he craves the spotlight. But beneath the bravado there is a tacit acceptance of the danger that he puts himself in. 

​An unusually pensive Zola manages to evade the authorities on his way to the World Blogging Forum in Romania

Meanwhile, Tiger Temple, an activist in his late 50s, is a more meditative and low-key figure, committed to understanding China’s tumultuous history while reporting on the plight of farmers in the agricultural hinterland. He considers democracy to be education when dealing with the authorities and generously adds that "we're learning from each other". For him, China suffers from the same debilitating disease that took hold during Mao's dictatorship. "On the surface, things seem better," he explains, "but people still feel oppressed. Tricked by economic growth. Distracted. Complacent because they feel powerless. They ask: 'What am I supposed to do?'" 

Tiger Temple: "In the meantime I will do what I do best: ride my bike. And if I have any thoughts I will write them down and share them"

Zola is less conciliatory. When he finally comes face to face with Tiger at a blogging conference he proclaims, "Being selfish is the first step to conquering the communist mindset." It's a fascinating moment. The viewer is never prompted to take sides but you wonder which approach is the right one for these times. Tiger is then unceremoniously driven out of Beijing while the party conference is held.

At the end of the film we are told that, "In 2012, after widespread social unrest and political upheaval in the Middle East and North Africa, the Chinese government created a new agency called the State Internet Information Body, to prevent disruptions to social stability." The government condemns such agitations as "acts of vanity" and warns that those seeking parallels with the events of the Middle East will "be sorely disappointed".

Unless the people speak out, that is. There is a place for both Zola and Tiger in this fight for democracy and it's going to take many more fearless citizens like them to bring change against a fiercely authoritarian government. Watch this film: it gives a timely reminder of the power and defiance of the human spirit.

And please do spare some time to visit Between the Lines. There are free screenings and events on Saturday…​

​'High tech, Low Life' will be shown at 7.15pm at Riverside Studios on Thursday 28 February. This screening will be preceded by 'Who's Afraid of Ai Weiwei, a short film about China’s most famous dissident artist.

Would dads read a dads' mag? A look at Kindling Quarterly

Magazines are simple pleasures for millions of us and no technological innovation is going to change that. Why? Two reasons. The first is because a magazine speaks to a select group of people, admittedly adult and more discerning, and then spoils them. It can be, and often is, a little secret that's passed in the hand. A portal to a new world of niche and obsession, quirk and eccentricity. A combination of exposé and aesthetics that a news-focused blog is unlikely to replicate.

A few favourites, both past and present, come to mind: The Face, i-D and TANK for emerging style and street culture; Apartamento for "everyday interiors"; Swallow and Gourmand for fine and occasionally odd dining; Straight No Chaser and 'Sup for music; Creative Review and It's Nice That for creative and commercial arts; Boat for in-depth travel, Little White Lies and Electric Sheep for film; Self-Service and Dapper Dan for fashion, Interview for celebrity…

The second reason is because the satisfaction felt after finishing a magazine is a special and increasingly rare feeling in our go faster, all-you-can-eat age. For all the benefits of the internet, sometimes it is not helpful to have infinity at our fingertips. Picture a treadmill: you're with me.

There is little else I love more on a weekend than to sit down with only a cup of tea and a beautiful piece of print journalism to stimulate me. No distractions. Pouring over features, smiling at a well-crafted opening line, wondering how they got that shot, jotting down notes of names and links to research later that evening, pondering … disappearing into the page. But you have to make time. The magazine – its subject matter, execution and voice – must make you want to make time.

Of course, quality costs and the cover price of these book-like works can dissuade readers … but take a chance, I say. And look beyond the obvious. Independent publishing is in rude health and however these limited-run projects are getting funded, they are every bit as valuable investment as that iPad of yours with all the app issues you're probably struggling to keep on top of.

There are countless commentators out there who cover this area of publishing with startling frequency and industry and I tip my cap to them, particularly Jeremy Leslie at MagCulture and the team behind Monocle's The Stack radio show. But as you may have noticed, I Make Sense is all about digging deeper into a story, inviting debate. So let's take a closer look at one of the most curious independent titles to emerge in recent months – Kindling Quarterly. Published by editor Kevin Michael Perez (co-founder of public arts and dinner initiative FEAST) and creative director August Heffner (marketing design director at J Crew), the NYC-based duo attempt to "present a thoughtful dialogue by playfully assessing and celebrating a multitude of experiences that form contemporary fatherhood."

A noble cause but what does it mean? We are told that, in the western world at least, there are now myriad opportunities open to women to be more than mothers. In turn there is a shifting attitude towards the role of the father as care giver in society. The publishers offer a riposte to the one-dimensional stereotype – the dutiful yet detached dad, the big kid, the hapless helper – by introducing an unconventional cast of characters who have much to say on the topic of working around their family. There is Perez's opening salvo against the notion of fatherhood as a secondary role that men play; Nagoya-based musician Shawn James Seymour's experiments in "sunny pop minimalism" with son Nico; Thing-X creative director Joe Randazzo's transition from supporting act to star dad ("you don’t know how selfish you are until you have to be selfless every single day in ways you could never predict"); and an amusing picnic shoot involving design workshop owner Christopher Cole – outdoorsy, handsome, wearing cardigan, carrying 'man bag' – on a day out with oh-so-cure daughter Ingrid.

Again we are seeing a big stride towards realism, immersion and intimacy in independent publishing, regardless of how niche the audience may be. In print this translates to greater sincerity in words, candid photography, playful doodles and an editorial policy of adventure in the everyday. But this is only the opinion of a journalist with time to indulge in contemporary arts and magazines. Although I too often struggle to find a healthy work-life balance but I am not a father. So I decided to ask a few friends that are. These modern men, working in the office and stepping up at home, were almost too busy to read the magazine and respond – the irony. But when they did, their opinions were both insightful and forthright.

"It seems like a well-meaning project but verges on becoming, 'how creative and amazing I am, and how lucky my child is that I bestow my gifts on them'. W

hat is the reader supposed to take away from it? W

hat ultimately jars is … why creatives and fatherhood? Seems tenuous to me. I'd rather just read about fathers looking after their children in imaginative ways, entertaining them and widening their horizons creatively, and overcoming obstacles to achieving those things. But they could be the milkman for all I care. That's kind of thing I'd read once a quarter, for inspiration on how to be a better dad."
Rob, 32, media sales executive, father of Bea (18 months) with another on the way

"I'm afraid that this is far too hipstery for me and I thought that the lifestyles depicted looked extremely contrived. To be honest, once I got to the page with the guy sitting on the bike strumming a miniature guitar it was over for me. It just put me in the mindset of sitting in a cafe in Crouch End listening to posh North London parents chatting to each other about their perfect lives."
Dave, 34, graphic designer, father of Tilly (four) and Daniel (16 months)

"The magazine continuously says that fathers are not superheroes, and that the ordinariness needs to be celebrated, but then completely contradicts itself by basing all of the articles around people doing things that are out of reach of the average person (eg the guy who does the sustainable cooking), or jobs that the Everyman probably couldn't relate to. The amount of time I have to read books, magazines, newspapers and blogs has been reduced substantially since having children and therefore I am extremely selective. I want to read about a topic because that topic is interesting in and of itself, not because there is a tenuous link to children or fatherhood (eg the furniture article). Being a father is a wonderful thing but you do need downtime from it. Would I choose to read industry magazines related to my job in my free time? Some people might but I wouldn’t. Finally, KQ doesn’t have the benefit of being slightly instructional. If you take the intro on face value you would think that the magazine would at least provide some sort of guide for fathers to better settle into the new role they are being required to take on. It doesn’t seem to attempt this. It simply reads as a style magazine…"
Richard, 33, management consultant, father of Lauren (two) and Hamish (four months)

"I thought I'd be interested in it but found myself skipping through articles, possibly because I'm really tired and busy … but then I'm always like that these days. I don't have the luxury of being able to read for as long as I used to; this is the sort of thing I'd have read when I was an expectant dad rather than now. When I do have time to myself I'd rather spend it in something totally unrelated to family (sport, music, film). I'm also finding I listen to way more podcasts now – things like This American Life, WTF, The Bugle – as I can hear interesting/funny stories, news and features while I work or cook. I choose to consume stuff that reconfirms my life outside or alongside my role as a Dad – escapism, I guess – but also stuff that I want to be able to share with Maya when she gets older such as art or politics. There is definitely potential in it but I wonder if the medium should be different."
Aly, 34, record label owner and dj, father of Maya (four)

There is a fine line between pride and hubris, and perhaps the publishers have crossed it in this opening issue. Perez has admitted as much in his editorial: "If the depictions of fathers in this journal appear as wholesome, may be even uncomfortably precious, that’s because they are. When done with even the smallest amount of care and thought, how could active parenting be anything other than wholesome? While the term may be culturally loaded, our subject requires that we at least not be shy about the sentiment."

Readers are more cynical and dismissive when they are either short of time or low on energy. In these circumstances the sincerity of a project might not shine through. But I am hopeful that Kindling Quarterly will engage more fathers as the months progress. The idea is promising but the execution needs work. No magazine ever emerged from its creators as an immaculate conception at the first attempt. Publishing is about observation, discussion and refinement. The challenge now is to carefully navigate and truthfully document that space between the lifestyle and the 'job'.

Finally, it was only right that I asked editor David Michael Perez a few questions about fatherhood and magazines. Amid a stack of deadlines and nappies he was kind enough to reply…

*****

1. What is the enduring appeal of the magazine when a personalised stream of content is only a few clicks away?
One of our top priorities, other than telling great stories, is creating value for our readers in as many ways as possible. While having a digital presence is critical, we still believe a print magazine is a specialised and valued object, especially as it is becoming more and more rare. Additionally our topic – fatherhood – has really never been covered to this extent in a print publication. So it certainly warrants a quarterly magazine (and more). Other topics may not warrant print.  

2. What was the spark for this project?
Well the first spark for us was becoming fathers and witnessing what an important and transformative project that is in itself. We realised there was nothing like Kindling Quarterly out there and very few online sites exploring fatherhood in a positive light.  While fatherhood in the States and beyond is changing rapidly there isn't a thoughtful space dedicated to it.

3. Did you make this magazine for yourselves or did you notice that there was a demand for this type of publication in NY?
We have definitely viewed this as a business venture from the beginning. We felt that – and this has definitely been proven true so far – there is a need for the dialogue that Kindling is creating. If it was just for ourselves we would have chosen a different format and/or audience. It has been wonderful receiving so many emails from dads saying they have been waiting for something like Kindling for a long time!

4. Which magazines do you read and which ones influenced either the look & feel or tone of your publication? 
There are so many inspiring publications out right now but a quick list includes: Wilder Quarterly, Apartamento, Kinfolk, Gather, Travel Almanac, WAX and Monocle.  These are all beautiful publications that approach there subjects in a thoughtful manner, which is what we try to do.  

5. When starting Kindling what was your biggest hope and your greatest fear?
Our biggest hope is that a dedicated community emerges around our publication. This will take time but we can already see it happening. The pre-sales figures and subscriptions have been amazing. If we focus on creating the best possible magazine for our readers, we should be okay. My biggest fear is failing to meet that goal.   

6. Do today's working fathers have enough time to read a magazine?
Ha, well I certainly have less time for reading since becoming a dad but this has meant prioritising and being more efficient at reading what is most important. If we can be valuable to our community then dads will make time. Additionally I see being a good father as really being the best version of myself – relaxed, generous, open, informed. While this means putting my family first I have a responsibility to do things to improve myself for their sake. 

7. Are niche audiences and specialised subject matter the key to the survival of printed magazines?
Although I'm not a big fan of the work "niche", I think any viable product or publication in this day and age has to let go of the idea that they are for everyone. Instead, recognise your audience and meet their needs. So yes, being specialised is always important no matter how big that audience is.

8. People in media prattle on about storytelling as if it's a zeitgeist moment in mass communication. What is your approach to this age-old phenomenon?
Telling stories is certainly integral to our mission, especially engaging, interesting stories so that our readers trust our editorial vision. Additionally we hope to make connections with our audience and be a means through which new connections are made among them.

9. Did you conduct any research into finding the right balance of entertaining men's mag content and the more instructional bits?
Some but not that much really. We had the benefit of being a genuinely new product or rather, covering a new topic. It became clear early on that we aren't a 'how-to' guide to being a dad. Also there are so many parenting resources online, while we are committed to the social/cultural discourse around child education and parenting, we don't want to get too specific (eg when to stop co-sleeping, attachment parenting, when to stop using a dummy etc).  We explore fatherhood with greater breadth and focus on the more nuanced ways that being a father changes you. If we can having engaging conversations with inspiring fathers, a lot of the specifics will fall into place.  

10. Finally fatherhood: as a culture what does this mean to you? Is there a world view that fathers share, one that you're trying to explore?
As a topic fatherhood is universal: everyone that has a dad is in some way affected by this dynamic. But of course our magazine isn't for everyone (nothing is). So I'd be hesitant to say all fathers share a particular viewpoint. Personally, Kindling is my way of building my life around fatherhood in a meaningful way. But I think this reflects the magazine in general. Every dad we feature is building their life around their children and committed to actively caring for them. The implication is that fatherhood is mutable – changing historically – but on a more immediate and individual level, it is something to improve upon and strive to be better at. I think our readers would share this "world view".  

*****

So dads, would you make time for Kindling Quarterly? Please tell me what you think below.

Sanja Ivekovic – The Unknown Heroine

Juxtaposition is an ancient technique used by artists, writers, designers and filmmakers to unsettle their audience and make meaning from the disparate. Light and dark, silence and motion, fear and excitement, the interplay between opposing elements can stimulate, thrill and confound, sometimes all at once.

From Magritte's rock floating beside a cloud to John Woo's slow-motion gunfight in Face/Off (as Somewhere Over the Rainbow plays ever so sweetly), heads have been turned and attuned to new perceptions of reality. Last Saturday at the South London Gallery (SLG), currently one of my favourite places to wile away and hour or two, I stumbled across a wonderful example in Unknown Heroine, the first UK solo exhibition by Croatian artist Sanja Ivekovic (part of which also takes place at Calvert 22).

Stills from Sanja Ivekovic's Instructions No 1 (1976)

In the 1970s there was a generation of artists in Yugoslavia that defiantly questioned the role of art in society and strove to democratise artistic space by abandoning galleries and taking to the streets. There they pondered questions about social structures, gender politics and identity. Ivekovic was part of this vanguard yet, according to the SLG, "her point of departure has been her positioning as a woman in society and the influence of mass media as well as the politics of power in the context of socialist and post-socialist society."  

As Ivekovic herself proclaims,

"I am convinced that activism and art can be mutually complementary."

The Croation works in a variety of mediums – from conceptual video edits to performance and social sculpture. Each piece challenges the status quo in its own way and merits close inspection. I do love the Tragedy of Venus, a series of photomontages that pair Ivekovic with Marilyn Monroe, her mirrored poses "questioning the stereotypes that influence the production of public and private images".

Sanja does Marilyn in the Tragedy of a Venus (1975-76)

General Alert (Soap Opera) also caught my eye. Once again Ivekovic, with wicked wit, peels back the absurdity of mass media by splicing together footage from a public television channel – captured amid the missile attacks on Zagreb during the Croatian War of Independence – and a popular Spanish soap of the time. Conclusive proof that real life is the most compelling drama we have.

A still from General Alert (Soap Opera) (1975)
(c) Calvert 22

But my favourite work is Woman's House (Sunglasses), a series of sunglasses adverts featuring models, beside whom are placed harrowing personal accounts of domestic abuse instead of gushing testimonials about how the likes of Prada and Armani have made them feel stylish and more sexy. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it critique that made me feel surprised, shocked and stupid for not having picked up the conceit a little sooner. The marketing world is littered with parodies of ads but this is a much darker tone. As Ivekovic explains, this is one her many strategies of intervention, a way to make people confront the toxic culture of image construction in the media. "I always seek the most effective way of getting the message across in a given context," she says. "I think that this state of urgency, which is characteristic of the times we live in, demands that artists be extremely flexible."

An ad from Ivekovic's Women's House (Sunglasses) (2012)

This fascinating exhibition explores what binds politics with aesthetics and proves that, in the words of the artist herself, "nothing is free from ideology".

"Sanja Ivekovic: Unknown Heroine" is showing at the SLG and Calvert 22 until 24 February. Calvert 22 will also be the venue for a talk given by curator Lina Dzuverovic on 7 February at 7pm.

Short story For Ideastap: Lady of the Lake

A response to an Editor's brief at Ideastap. The theme is "Frozen":

LADY OF THE LAKE

Click, swooooosh, clack swooooosh,
The lady of the lake pushes and pirouettes,
gleaming and gliding gracefully over
a foggy, floral-patterned mirror to the heavens.

All is still but for this exquisite silhouette of a figure, 
impeccably slipped into a barely-there singlet of 
maidenly white silk and crystal-trimmed lace,
and adorned with a fluffy cloud of cobalt blue.

Each day she would arrive at the same time, alone 
but never lonely, rehearsed yet lost in the moment.
Impervious to the biting chill of the winter front,
unflinching in her precise navigation of the cracks beneath. 

Each day I would cross the valley at sunrise,
body weary from the exertions of the night before,
but with a spirit renewed by a rush of anticipation
at the performance to come. A celestial vision incarnate. 

No glance or greeting, no longing for someone or some
place else. Total immersion in the now. The hush of nature
contentedly at work to the tune of a gentle whirl. My mind
at play with a memory that would flicker but not fade. 

This willful detachment from one another heightened
my longing, my wonder. The shared silence restorative,
a chance to be; realignment with the world. The universe.
Asking nothing more than that, which was revealed to me.

The rhythm of that winter was quickly set; the ebb and flow
of our lives in parallel, yet out of orbit. One hour to co-exist,  
one breath from raising the curtain of intimacy. All the while,
fearful of an interruption, shattering the immaculate ideal.

Taking my place one day in the top-tier of nature's great amphitheatre, 
a row of felled trees frozen over to the southern side of the lake,
a treasure amid the tundra, I watched expectantly as the first rays 
of daylight danced, ever so fleetingly, on the stage.

Divine. To the main attraction. Tick followed tock, followed tick,
followed tock. The same etched expanse of white … only this time without
a familiar dot of blue making elegant patterns in the sky.
Heavy breath. A sense of dread building with every passing minute.

An hour passed like never before without her. But was this a break,
a pause or a simple twist of fate? To assuage my own fears I advanced toward
the lake but then, propelled by panic and jolted by the capricious
ground before me, I suddenly began to careen into the distance.

A blur of white light flashed before my eyes as I spun round and round,
my skin lacquered with the gloss of freshly frosted ice. Lips sealed,
eyes almost shut. I emitted a slow-choked whimper, breaking the ineffable
silence that had been so absolute and entrancing those past few months. 
Just then a bolt of blue shot past my view. I spread myself larger than life,
using every inch of gravity to bring myself to a halt. 

Scurrying on my hands and knees, I retraced a skimmed path
I had made until I came to a fissure in the ice. There beside it
was a dot of bright colour, of blue. A familiar blue. But from where?
I scraped. Still hard to make out. I scraped again. A cobalt blue hue
emerged through the ice.

No.

Please no. 

I quickly cast off my gloves and ferociously picked at the ice
to the point of seizure, till my nails began to come away
from their beds. I began to wail, beating at the thick sheet
until my bloodied hands stained the pure white. Then,
as if a switch had been flicked, I awoke to the reality
of the situation. There beneath me lay the lady, hands
pressed against the ice, preserved in now eternal  beauty.
Her final resting place.

I sat, inches apart from the one whose soul I felt I knew,
yet whose life I would never touch. I gazed into her eyes,
expecting either a look of wide-eyed panic or one of
wistfulness at the deep solitude of her tragic demise.
But to my surprise, there was a faint smile. And not the kind
that is fleeting or well-worn. But a look a contentment.
The mien of one who is at peace with themselves. Serenity. 

At that moment, I looked up to the sky, drew the longest
breath of my life and began to weep. Here, at the outer limits
of human emotion, in the great expanse of nowhere,
my tears ran slowly down my cheeks and quickly became
part of this glacial tomb. They were an affirmation of life
but also of death.

There I lay for hours until help reached us from the nearby village.
For weeks I barely uttered more than a polite sentence or two from
day to day. I never tried to analyse or reason my way to a conclusion
about the events of that winter but they have stayed with me,
close at heart, awakening my senses to the promise of fuller life.
The majesty and the mystery.

To the lady, I thank you. And I miss you.