The Intimacy of Organic Communication
Conceptualizing the issue of control is paramount to understanding my relationship with technology versus organic tools (e.g. pencil and paper). As with any issue, perceptions may differ from person-to-person. For example, what I feel comfortable writing in cursive on my acid-free paper journal with my Tiffany fountain pen might be better accomplished by someone else through using a computer or digital voice recorder.
I am used to writing using pen and paper because I have always found it difficult to think while staring at a glowing screen or talking to no one. I have since formed a belief that the organic process should be learned before it is discarded and replaced with the mechanic process. Learn film photography and development before you use digital camera; learn to write longhand before you use a computer to type everything.
I find it personally satisfying to be able to immediately hand a poem to a friend for workshopping. On one hand, if the product exists within an online environment, it is immediately accessible to any one any where at any time. This means that there is a potential for conversation (i.e. interaction) “that would likely never occur in ‘pencil space’.” On the other hand, it takes two people with two Internet-ready machines to complete an interaction online. Many great conversations have occurred with just a pencil and paper (Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet); for example, think of all the great relationships formed and/or maintained through the writing of letters. Email may be easier, but letter-writing is more intimate.
As such, the advantage to using organic tools is the freedom from outside distractions. There is nothing to filter. If you own and regularly use a television, cell phone, or email account, you have to make a conscious decision to filter (or control) the effect these technologies have on your everyday life; whereas, I only have to choose whether or not I will write at one given moment. It’s just me, my ideas, and my medium.

1 Comments:
Fair enough Chelsea. I suspected that you would get to the issue of control sooner than later. I agree with your notions of individualism as it relates to script, paper, and pen (you should see the movie "84 Charing Cross Road" to see a really nice portrayal of an epistlatory relationship between a Manhattan writer and a London used book shop owner post WWII); however, the romantic lens filters out a lot of noise. In buying said pen and paper, and in attending said workshop, or meeting with said friend, you have swum through an entire universe. You did not control what you saw as you went to the store (or went online); you did not control the chain of events in those sets of activities any more than you controlled what you put on your computer and then online (email, MS Word, messageboard, IM, or online). Certainly, these electronically mediated forms of writing give us speedier access to garishly colorful ads, and can transport your words to viewers from, say, Indonesia. Still, there are locks and keys that can control that access.
One thing I don't have a good response for is the tactile sensation of pen, paper, and books. Your comment about acid-free paper intrigues me (it has so many connotations--fruit, wine, etc.). It is hard to replace the comfortable an confident heft of a book in cyberspace, as it is impossible to duplicate the "coffee nook" experience of seeing your paper soak up the ink of a fine-point pen.
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