ON MICROCELEBRITY (BE IT...DON'T DREAM IT)


Lady P and I recently attended a little party at our friends Mark and Audrey's cavernous top-floor loft in Philly's Northern Liberties. To many, their place would seem an urban El Dorado: a stylishly boho loft with huge arched windows that display a panoramic view of the city skyline with rooftop access for summer parties. All this for criminally cheap rent. Did I mention it has a swing?


Anyhoot...during our visit, Mark tossed this Wired article onto my lap concerning the phenomenon of what Clive Thompson calls "microcelebrity".

Microcelebrity. Now see, I've always thought that the word "notoriety" sufficed, but these days everything must sound vaguely technical to be deemed intellectually sexy enough to discuss--much like how many people prefer "biomorphic" to "organic". Perhaps it's apt in this case, since this particular kind of fame has technological implications--but I digress.

The article starts:

"Whenever Peter Hirshberg is at a party, someone eventually pulls out a camera and takes a snapshot with him in it. Hirshberg — chair of the executive committee at the blog-search company Technorati — performs a quick mental calculation: Does the photographer look like one of those people who will immediately dash home and post all their candids to Flickr? 'If I think it's going to end up on the Web, I straighten up more, try to smile the right way,' Hirshberg says. 'Because if it goes online, people I know will probably see it.'"

Further down, Clive Thompson lays out his definition of microcelebrity:

"Microcelebrity is the phenomenon of being extremely well known not to millions but to a small group — a thousand people, or maybe only a few dozen. As DIY media reach ever deeper into our lives, it's happening to more and more of us. Got a Facebook account? A whackload of pictures on Flickr? Odds are there are complete strangers who know about you — and maybe even talk about you."

This is akin to the mutated Waholian aphorism propagated by our man imomus back in the 90's: "In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen people". He too has used and commented at length on this trend, even citing me as an example of this phenomenon in a Wired article he wrote earlier this year. In the article he paints a knowing, half-serious portrayal of me as a kind of postmodern huckster who has parlayed an obscure online journal into a book and film (although the role of cheeky impresario is irresistibly McClareneque, the sad truth is that my savvy agent is largely responsible). Momus' article is also an indictment/examination of his own self-mediation over the past twenty-five years, putting on masks and airs for fun and profit. This isn't to say that self-mediation must involve self-misrepresentation; if anything it involves self-distillation, bringing one's own native traits to the fore (for fun and profit). A commenter named "2fs" writes in response to his article:

"...Nick, I'm surprised that you'd say it's sometimes hard to tell where the man ends and the promotion-slash-image begins with Lord Whimsy. (Actually, I'm not surprised you'd say that. I'd be surprised if you believed it.) In fact, one of the most attractive things about "Lord Whimsy" is how very human, and humane, he/his persona is. I suspect that aspect of "Lord Whimsy" is a reflection of Allen Crawford's daily character...insofar as that character is separable from "Lord Whimsy" - but if I were wrong, if in life he were an arrogant asshole, would that make "Lord Whimsy" any less charming?"

The timing of this more recent article on microcelebrity seems a bit odd; this technology-fueled social phenomenon has been around for quite some time now, although it has certainly grown and intensified in recent years. We are all becoming more adept as self-mediators: It has become one of those necessary twenty-first century life skills, right up there with knowing a few key phrases of HTML or knowing how to put one's cell phone on vibrate mode. To quote Clive Thompson: "The truth is that people are developing interesting social skills to adapt to microfame. We're learning how to live in front of a crowd." In the words of Quentin Crisp, we've learned to "urinate with style".

That isn't to say it isn't problematic, of course. Abuse and misuse is inevitable in such nebulous regions. As stated in the article, "Corporations are getting humanized, and humans are getting corporatized." In this new environment, we are all in danger of becoming mere brands.

Obviously, I am a fairly conspicuous example of this phenomenon, which is why my friend Mark had brought the article to my attention in the first place. As an artist, designer and Illustrator, I've used my tools on myself; that said, even a narcissist needs a break from his mirror. In fact, I've almost deleted this journal several times over the years, wishing to recede back into my private little world again; but paradoxically, doing so would be even more narcissistic than posting endless portraits of myself in countless ensembles. What started out as a personal exercise has now become a social (possibly even a public) obligation; a role, a profession, an ideal which one must live up to. Some people are poets, priests, firemen, doctors, or professors. I'm a Whimsy.

Adopting a pen name which strongly suggests a persona doubtlessly puts off people who are suspicious of artifice--or those who simply haven't thought the matter through--but it has also proven very beneficial for many reasons, some of which are only apparent in hindsight. After spending years toying intuitively with such things, I've worked out what those benefits are. Below are three that come immediately to mind:

First, such a practice entertains readers and fans with its use of symbols, archetypes and expectations which evolve and grow in complexity as time goes on (more on this in a moment).

Second, it creates an aesthetic framework--a set of personal parameters to obey and violate, which makes for lively form and vigor.

Thirdly (and most importantly from a personal point of view), it provides a means of synthesis and self-transformation for those of us whose imaginations outstrip our realities. What starts out as crude two-dimensional shtick slowly becomes more subtle and multifaceted as one gradually occupies it, ultimately becoming the very thing one originally pretended to be. This process of changing from the outside in has been used by everyone from Julius Caesar to Groucho Marx. The mask eventually becomes the face; one wakes up one day to find that the piece of tape clinging to one's upper lip has become a moustache. Eventually, one finds he or she is hiding in plain sight.

For me, walking down the street once felt like a performance; but now, it feels more like a recital. I now feel quite at ease with the fact that others see Whimsy, because that's who I see as well. Indeed, what you see is now what you get: a failed dandy, passionate dabbler, and middle-aged weirdo.

Nevertheless, for those of us engaged in such enterprises, new pitfalls open under one's feet every day. My book was a commercial failure and thus rendered innocuous, but have I tripped a fatal snare with the film deal? Too early to say, although I'm sure there are those out there who feel they already know the eventual outcome. But from where I'm standing, things are quite murky but hopeful. We'll see.

I'll let Clive take us out:

"You could regard this as a sad development — the whole Brand Called You meme brought to its grim apotheosis. But haven't our lives always been a little bit public and stage-managed? Small-town living is a hotbed of bloglike gossip. Every time we get dressed — in power suits, nerdy casual wear, or goth-chick piercings — we're broadcasting a message about ourselves. Microcelebrity simply makes the social engineering we've always done a little more overt — and maybe a little more honest."

All too true.

Interesting to ponder such things while sitting in front of an array of huge windows with a chattering crowd over your shoulder.

~W