I'm Ben. 20. @BennSt
BA Media & Communication at Birmingham City University. I make websites and design for print, produce and present radio as well as take photos. Among other things.
Hear me every Wednesday 2-4pm on Scratch Radio.
More? benstones.net
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Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
The term celebrity is commonplace. People refer to themselves as a celebrity and others connote celebrity status with well-known or revered individuals; but what defines a celebrity? Here I will examine the notion of the term and apply these ideas to the Twitter user @ElderRon and a pig.
The dictionary definition of the term celebrity is as follows: “the state of being well known”.
To some, the pig from The Only Way Is Essex is revered as a celebrity – he is well known and even has somewhat of a fan base. (I think his name is Mr Darcy, but I could be wrong. Just search Twitter and you’ll soon find his following.) But what about this inimitable pig allows him celebrity status? His starring role in the ITV2 reality-soap-drama-whateverelseyoucancallit series, The Only Way Is Essex (or TOWIE as it’s affectionately known), undoubtedly is the catalyst of his fame but for those who don’t watch the series this humble pig’s celebrity notoriety is lost. Therefore, it can be deduced that the notions of celebrity are relative.
The notions of celebrity are relative to those aware of the person – so Mr Darcy the TOWIE pig is only a celebrity to those who are familiar with the series. It could be asked, however, at what stage of notoriety does “well known” become celebrity? How well known does this pig need to be before he is classed as a celebrity? For me, someone who doesn’t (yet) watch TOWIE (but clearly insists on using the acronym), I don’t consider the pig a celebrity – although his continued appearances on my Twitter and Tumblr feeds would say otherwise.
In a similar way, can we then consider @ElderRon a celebrity? If you didn’t attend the Student Radio Conference last month then already you’re questioning who this Ron guy is, but if you did you probably do notarise him with some celebrity status. Let me explain, Ron was the unforgettable bus driver who tirelessly ferried students between campuses for the Student Radio Conference in Hatfield this year – without him, there would’ve been some long, hungover morning walks between campuses. It wasn’t until after the conference did @ElderRon’s Twitter presence emerge to the #sracon twittersphere – and he was an instant hit. Apparently his presence online is well known by the students of the University of Hertfordshire, and now amongst the attendees of the conference. To everyone else however, he is just another Twitter user. Relatively, to the attendees of the conference and the students that travel on his bus, @ElderRon is a celebrity.
Other than being simply well known, the discourses of the @ElderRon Twitter account can be analysed – his celebrity is not only relative to those who have travelled on his bus service, but also relative to his Twitter account. By including the noun ‘Elder’ in his Twitter username, Ron displays a discourse and connotes ideas of age, seniority and education over his followers and fans – something that is revered as part of his celebrity both on Twitter and in real life. This throws up another question, would @ElderRon’s online persona still echo his real-life celebrity if his username was different?
In 2007 the city of Nottingham was voted the 4th worst place to live in the country, according to the inimitable TV duo… Kirstie and Phil. (Sarcasm doesn’t come across so well in words.) In Kirstie’s words, albeit on the 4homes website, she described the city as:
“…this vibrant East Midlands city should be a winner, with loads more on offer than most other places nationwide. But (once again) it’s crime that drags this place down into our worst list. Long gone are the romantic days of Robin Hood robbing the rich to feed the poor.
There’s nothing chivalrous about the gangs round here, with burglary and theft from cars being higher here than anywhere else in the UK.”
Whilst home for me is somewhere in the pork-pie and Stilton filled void between Nottingham and Leicester, I know the city well enough to realise that Kirstie has clearly never lived, worked or most probably set foot in Nottingham aside from the filming of the ‘Worst Places to Live’ programme. The term ‘scare-mongering’ - or moral panic if you’re getting all academic - immediately comes to mind, the “Shottingham” narrative is one which is becoming a permanent representation of the city.
In response to this “definitive” canon, overnight Nottingham pulled together to respond to Channel 4. Ignoring the fact that this video and stunt was, to a certain extent, commercially backed by what was one of the city’s largest radio stations, it brings to light the misrepresentation of the city and how those who actually live there concurrently disagree with the outcome…
Unlike cities like London, Manchester and Birmingham it’s near impossible for Nottingham to rely on it’s skyline for it’s visual representation… can you really tell me what Nottingham Castle looks like? What the city does have is history - Robin Hood is one of the key attractions of the city. Do Kirstie and Phil make note of that? Well, credit where credit’s due, they do but only to reinforce the gang-land discourse so often associated with Nottingham.
Don’t get me wrong I’m not saying that the city is absolutely amazing, but in reality is this representation as accurate as Kirstie and Phil would have us believe? Without getting too media on yo ass, their cultural and social capital means that their canon is likely to be more widely accepted than the response video of the people of Nottingham… although you could argue that the people of the city should be more proactive in fairly representing the city meaning they wouldn’t have to react to mainstream representations such as this.
Nottingham. Rant. Done.
This is a Media Culture reading response to Stuart Hall’s “Notes on Deconstructing ‘The Popular’”.
The ever-changing nature of popular, according to Hall, makes the term highly difficult to define - equally difficult is the notion of culture. This chapter looks at defining popular culture and how different definitions take into consideration different areas of both popular and culture.
Complexities in the term popular arise mainly from issues surrouning periodisation; Hall notes the mass changes between the 1880s-1920s, but also the ever-changing and advancing preferances of “the people”. From this, Hall draws three definitions:
Hall prefers the third definition as it dynamically changes as per mass consumption as well as consumer preference, rather than the static, endless lists of the first two definitions. Whilst the first two definitions also allude to popular as class, the third definition is not reliant on the links between popular culture and class.
Video: Probably the most legendary Eastenders “duff duff” moment… “You ain’t my mother!”
Once again Media Culture has led me to question and rethink a media text that I actually enjoy, this week it’s the “compelling teenage soap”, Hollyoaks.
Hollyoaks is part of the highly popular soap opera genre which is often considered an integral part of British television consumption. The popularity contest between the vast number of soaps is regularly contested by dedicated award ceremonies and between friends, colleagues and across online fora. But really, what’s the difference between Hollyoaks, Eastenders and Coronation Street?
I’m the first to admit that I’d watch Hollyoaks over Eastenders any day of the week, but I can’t really answer why it’s any better or why I prefer it. If you look at the story-lines, no single British soap stands out against the others for original story-lines - even when script writers try to go against the odds they are often met with a tough backlash from the burgeoning fan-bases, take the Eastenders baby stealing plot for example. Look at the characters and there are often striking similarities. Even the actual imagery of the programmes is decidedly coherent.
With so many of these programmes supposedly based on ‘real life’ and reflecting some of the emotions, experiences and feelings of their respective audiences, soap operas are excellent examples of a culture industry. Often magazines cover real-life experiences which have come to the forefront after similar soap story-lines, and script writers and directors step out in support of a particular cause or faction. But are these programmes merely just conforming to the Frankfurt criticisms of culture industries?
It could be agreed that soap operas only bring topics they choose to the attention of the masses, oppressing the Marxist base by controlling their culture-consumption. Equally, with such similarities - in story-lines, characters and imagery - the Adorno and Horkheimer theories of mass-reproduction and standardisation can quite easily be associated with the soap opera genre.
A key part of the Frankfurt culture industry theory is the notion of pseudo-individualisation. Whilst there are great similarities between the great British soaps, their subtle differences allow them to target different audiences, approach different cultural issues and, essentially, be slightly separated and alternative. Each soap has it’s own following, just do a quick search online for the different soaps and you’ll soon find their online communities, but are they really that different? Or as consumers are we just buying into the pseudo-individualisation of another culture industry?
First off, let me explain, from today you’ll start to see a load of posts tagged with mc513 or media culture - as part of my undergraduate course at BCU, tagged posts relate to media culture theory seminars.
When this question was posed, any number of things popped into my head. With such an enormous range of media consumption everyday it appears as though this question is the hardest thing anyone could ever ask:
Which media text do you see as expressing or belonging to ‘your culture’?
There are so many texts that I could choose, from my endless consumption of Facebook to the the daily torrent of adverts that bombard the commuter. Instead I’ve chosen something seemingly more abstract…
…the train departure board.
What on earth is he on about? You’re probably asking yourself. Well, everyday I wait under the platform sign patiently respecting it’s knowledge - however inaccurate it almost invariably will be - before my day can commence. Today, as I wait for those LEDs to tell me that my train would arrive imminently, I realised how appropriately it sums up part of my culture.
As a person, I regard myself as fairly career focused and hard-working. The departure board never stops; whatever time of day you pass it, it will always have new knowledge. Whilst I don’t pretend to be working 24/7, like the departure board I have a need for knowledge and information.
It may appear as though the solitary sign on Selly Oak platform one is alone in it’s quest for eternal knowledge-transfer, you’d be wrong in thinking that it was working on it’s own. How does it get it’s information? What is it’s purpose? That single sign is part of an information super-network, drawing it’s knowledge from a vast array of sources and passing only the relevant knowledge to those who need it.
Again I don’t pretend to be a brain-surgeon or a super-computer but I’d like to think that everyday I learn a little more as part of a knowledge-bound network of friends and colleagues. Together, like the platform information signs along the Litchfield-Reddich line, we work to share knowledge and information and effectively pass it to those who want it.
There you have it, next time you’re stood underneath the sign telling you your train is going to be 13 minutes late, appreciate how that solitary purveyor of information may be reflecting your culture.