YouTube is Dead. Long Live New YouTube: TL;DR Version
Replace the word “football” with “YouTube.” Also replace the words “air-conditioning and plumbing” to “content and accessibility”
Replace the word “football” with “YouTube.” Also replace the words “air-conditioning and plumbing” to “content and accessibility”
About a month ago, a friend and I had a heated discussion about YouTube. The discussion was about the possibility of “YouTube failure.” And by that, I mean the failure of YouTube as website. Not in the metaphorical sense, but literally “What would happen if YouTube failed?” What if the severs were erased? The screens went black. All data was lost. What would happen if then next time you tried to go to the website you were instead taken (a la Liam Neeson’s Daughter) to a website page that reads: “Server Error 500”?

Where is my "Justin Bieber" vid!
But my friend and mine’s discussion was not about the global chaos, riots, or occupy movements that might ensue when the world was unable to get its “Haul” video fix. No, instead our argument was based around my friend’s belief that it would only take a day for a next “YouTubian” website to emerge to take-up YouTube’s fallen crown (which I assume is mainly made-up of adorable kittens and racist comments). I disagreed with this assertion. I think that it would only take eight hours for a new “YouTube” to emerge*. This assertion might come as a surprise to some; others might think that it is not bold enough. Either way, the point of the discussion was that, while YouTube isn’t too big to fail, the idea of YouTube is.
This argument makes it seem like YouTube isn’t important. That is not at all what I am claiming. YouTube is extremely important. And while it is true that viral videos permeate so much of the online experience that they can’t die, it is of the utmost importance to understand “the way” in which this content is presented to us. The medium is not the message; the way we let the medium shape the content is the message. YouTube is important because it has shaped the way in which we think about internet videos. It has dictated the rise and fall of success in the medium since it’s birth. It would be impossible to speculate as to how the landscape of media would be changed if perhaps a more intuitive, educational, or personable website was in control of the majority of entertainment web videos. Hypotheticals aside, it is now paramount that media theorist hold a critical eye to the way in which we, as a population, interact with the primary source of video content (that isn’t porn) on the web.
In the time that I worked on PerpiTube, my harshest critique of YouTube was often it’s sophomoric architecture, however in the 6 months since I started YouTube has done a complete overhaul of it’s site. Now, instead of looking like Myspace circa 2003, it looks like Myspace circa 2008. Yet, I can’t help but notice that “we” collectively feel like it is an improvement. The truth is, YouTube isn’t ever going to be an easy, intuitive, or even cool site to spend time in. The content of the videos on the site are all of those things, yes, but that is besides the point. YouTube doesn’t need to be any of those things because it is functional. And much like mid-size sedan, it doesn’t need to be much more than functional. It will never escape its foundation of crappy architecture and childish organization because in doing so it would give up functionality.

"I'm cool now, right guys?"
This critique isn’t cynicism. I love YouTube. I love spending time in YouTube. I love it probably more than the average person does or should, but I also push myself to do what I believe was a big part of the PerpiTube experience; think critically about what the space I occupy on the internet says about the information I view there. I am always aware of the paradigm of YouTube and how it influences the videos I view on it. The prejudices and biases I have based around this then lead themselves to critical examination. This in turn leads to intelligent discussion of larger metaphysical concepts like “What is ‘art’, ‘comedy’, and ‘celebrity.’” I may be relentless of my critique of YouTube, but I do it out of love. I want to see media scholars discussing YouTube. I want to see YouTube taught in classrooms. I want to see YouTube change the way writers of television and film think. I want to… Oh look, a cat video…
- James
* My personal theory is that if YouTube died right now, Vimeo would simply create a new site that was essentially the same thing, relegating the old Vimeo to be called Vimeo+ or something of the sort, and it would take them all of eight hours to get the new site up and running.
“THE CHAOTIC DIVERSITY of ‘PerpiTube’ is perhaps best encapsulated by the contribution of Sue Bell Yank, whose video, An Icarian Fall, explores seemingly contradictory images of Los Angeles as seen from a distance in a panoramic view, which belies the complexity of the city below, and the fragmented, street level discontinuity. Together they produce a rich, if also overwhelming experience. In her mediation of these paradoxical portrayals, Yank refers to Michel de Certeau’s essay “Walking in the City” and economist Jeffrey Goldstein’s theory of emergence. Calling the totalizing vision encapsulated by the panoramic view a fiction, De Certeau contended that the Icarian fall into chaos is necessary to comprehend the intricacy of the city. In presenting Goldstein’s idea of emergence, defined as “the arising of novel and coherent structures, patterns and properties during the process of self-organization in complex systems,” Yank suggests a resolution to the antipodes of totality and fracture…”
see the rest at Christopher Michno, Artillery Mag
On Friday we spent a fruitful day discussing some of the ideas raised by, work made for, and communities engaged within PerpiTube. The day’s structure moved us from a panel about curating on/about YouTube, to artists talks about making work for this show (and its varied gallery and YouTube iterations), to small group discussions that looked closely at a few of the (many) videos in the show, to a closing conversation about the lived and practical effects of moving voice via YouTube to communities (like former prisoners and recovering drug addicts, and others deemed marginal or unauthorized) who were once outside media discourse but always part of this show, and now can (more) easily access these tools and their audiences.
Given that they day was so packed with intelligent, complex, and competing dialogue, this post does not serve as a recap, but rather a highlight of four concepts that stuck with me.
Soon, the videos that recorded this day will be added to the unruly chaos that is already the YouTube show. If you’re interested, I hope you’ll take some time on your own to watch the conversation as it unfolded, and decide how you can purposefully engage.
Lisa Nakamura’s “YouTube: A Gothic Alphabet” is the last official video for the PerpiTube gallery show (new videos can enter the YouTube site in perpetuity, of course). It serves as an uncanny ending, providing us as it does with a vocabulary to look back at, and make use of, the huge volume of work made over the eight weeks of the live show (32 artist’s videos, even more gallery documentation videos, and then multiple response videos, as well).
While the invited artists were asked to make work under four thematic rubrics quoted from my video-book, Learning from YouTube–Chaos/Control, Distraction/Depth, Isolation/Connection, Entertainment/Education–it often fell upon the curators, within this blog, to draw connections across what consistently presented (by design!) as a diverse, eclectic, and ever-growing body of video work. It was hard not to become somewhat overwhelmed by the quantity and diversity of the huge body of purposeful work produced for the show, thereby mirroring (by design) the onslaught of YouTube. Thus, Nakamura’s charge to educators–to use YouTube to draw in our students to the lessons that matter most to us by writing with it as a popular, entertaining computational device delivered for our personal exploitation–comes as a relief! We will make of it what we will. Each one, teach one:
And so, this last week, Janie Geiser’s work was nothing if not gothic:
Dr. Strangelove listed a litany of non-realities and Favianna Rodriguez compiled her own compendium of Dream Acts. We saw artists, scholars and activists using YouTube to teach what mattered most.
One of the goals of PerpiTube has been to try to think about and model purposeful response, as well as artful and intelligent production, on YouTube. Here’s a few examples of responses made during the first week of our last theme, Entertainment/Education. They raise for me several thoughts about interaction online:
1) If your audience is composed of professors and artists, purposeful conversation is easy: they’ve already been trained to talk this way about art and culture. But what if your audience is YouTube?
2) If your interlocutor is your Dad (or son, as was the case for Kiffen Madden-Lunsford), its easier to force participation and interaction, but what if you have no familiar ties to inspire commitment?
3) In this response to Natalie Bookchin’s “Mass Ornament,” three members of the curatorial team make use of all they’ve learned about the most effective forms for interaction on YouTube by making something short, funny, and allegorical. How do we include ideas about form in our play for expanded online participation?
4) Shawn Sobers decided to comment on own “Fifteen Autobiographical Moments in PerpiTubeity” (or perhaps lead the conversation about his own video given that he was not in the gallery). If artists are effective commentators on their own work, how do we feel about art that sits on a platform where access to the artist is almost impossible, by definition?
5) Our intrepid intern, James Shickich, has made an art form of its own of documenting PerpiTube videos that played this summer to an empty gallery. Sue Bell Yank’s video, “An Icarian Fall,” is about the complexity and beauty of socially mediated aggregation, but what if no one sees the work, and thus no aggregation begins, lost as it so often will be, in YouTube’s chaotic sea of dischord (or the gallery’s exclusionary perameters).
Kara Keeling and Thenmozhi Soundararajan are the first to address my video-book outright with their delightful contribution to PerpiTube, “In Pursuit of Parenthetical Pleasure.” In the video-book I write: “If presented with paltry, ludicrous, distracting uses of a medium as its norm, we must model its life-affirming, idea-stimulating, community-enabling applications.” Soundararajan responds that as was true for Third Cinema in the past, this contemporary team of Third World Majoritists chose to “work with the content and people that are there.”
And so, Keeling and Soundararajan and X as well, model away: sifting through the chaos of YouTube to find sustaining, ennobling, intellectual and political affirmations, which they easily whip into control through an “updated Third Cinema” remix aesthetic: “YouTube is a places where LBGT people of color have a space.”
Meanwhile, Dont Rhine and Susan Hebert take a quieter, steadier tack, controlling the environment of production (as opposed to reception) by carefully staging their scenes with a pared down, rigorous, structured visual and aural aesthetic (perhaps too quickly unseen or losable in the sea of YouTube).
While the first group of artists search YouTube for the pleasures that bubble below in NicheTube, Rhine and Hebert look to the world to see both the hidden treasures of daily experience, and often unrecorded sentiment, as well as traces of governmental mechanical devices that litter our landscape. They attend to that which is left unnoticed amidst the blares of mainstream culture, corporate advertising, and governmental surveillance, that is, unless we control our gaze and ears upon it. This section on Chaos/Control ends with the combing of YouTube and our lived world for pleasures that are easily lost but with (aesthetic) effort become apparent.
The four videos that were presented during the first week of PerpiTube’s section on Chaos/Control share an interest in naming, or sometimes performing, some of the forces that hinder full human autonomy and dignity. For instance, in “Long Story Short,” Natalie Bookchin’s subjects attest to shared histories of homelessness. Other videos in the section represent other disenabling, controlling forces—domestic abuse, drug addiction, racism, or (mental) colonialism, a term from Max King Cap—that instigate a chaotic and damaging misdirection of human energy and potential away from health, history, and power.
Each of the four videos in turn also consider the possibilities for resurrection, revolution, analysis or redress which can only become available once subjugation is named and seen. Invited gallery viewers from Prototypes were moved by the hope, inspiration, and surviving and surpassing of the victimhood of everyday life that was also central to Bookchin’s video. They will be making their own responses to this and other issues raised in the show this week in collaboration with sound artist Dont Rhine.
Gabrielle Foreman speaks to her work at “gathering and gaining access to Black women’s past,” a form of redress that can place take in the classroom, in the gallery, and by extension in the streets. And just so, Fran Ilich pictures a (small, domestic) revolution in his video art, but not the grand one that had been anticipated at the Biennial of the Mexican revolution, despite it being foretold, or at least anticipated. He asks gallery viewers if art making itself is a form of controlling or refiguring colonialism, even if it sits alone in a gallery or awash in the chaotic sea of YouTube:
PerpiTube’s second section, Isolation/Connection, has ended with an uplifting set of provocations from Jutta Treviranus, Director of the Inclusive Design Research Center:
Jutta, and Judy Drummond the day before, both ask whether we can have a “do-over” by looking back at our gross failures at human connection—rooted in fears of difference and the violence and isolation this breeds, which has been an ongoing theme of this section—and pro-actively build a better future for all humans.
“In the digital reality, things can take a form best for each individual,” explains Treviranus. While it is certainly true that experiences of Native people, and the many others oppressed by imperialist violence have occurred in the “Solid World,” Treviranus asks us to consider how the stretchiness of digital space creates the room we have always needed for inclusion and justice. The tension between what happens in and between physical and digital realities is a core interest of the show: by making it better in here, do we see ripples out there?