https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trJ4eckToVU

During my research I watch a few interviews with the creator of the mobile phone, the first brick phone, Martin Cooper. During his interviews he always brings up very interesting things or answers interesting questions from a creator’s perspective rather then a user’s perspective. I noticed that he never had in mind the amount of personalization of the cell phone that occurs today. Which led me to think about how inventions are made to be useful. In fact, the most popular inventions seem to be created in order to be useful and over time, as they become popular they begin to be personalized and changed to suit its users even if its not the most useful manner.

I thought this was very interesting. When looking to the past through artifacts, we try and interpret their meanings very deeply in order to better understand the past times. For example, the teapot. A teapot found can say a lot about its time and its times advancement. A few teapot’s might help show the difference between classes and the amount of abundance or poverty of those times.

As I studied the cell phone I constantly wondered what the cell phone would say about us if it is ever found thousands of years from now. What would it say about us? There are so many models and so uniquely personalized that it will hopefully show the technology leaps we have been making in the last 20 yrs with it. It might also say something of our economic state over this time as there are not an abundance of luxury phones, etc. But it will definitely show how dependent we are of them since there are probably a vast amount of them everywhere.

After this semester I have reached my own conclusions about  what expository writing is. Because I have studied rhetoric for a couple semesters I have believe that in concern to it expository writing is more of the research than the actual persuasion. Although I believe expository writing can be persuasive, its main goal might be more to explain, inform and learn rather then to cause a movement or action. There is more intrigue in expository writing than anything else. In my opinion its more of special in depth research over a particular topic. Although it is similar to research its different in that it is more specific. I am glad to  have been able to take this class and learn about this time of writing. I think that this class should continued to be offered especially to those  interested in subjects such as history. Because Expository writing contains such concentrated information and research this obviously is very useful to people that work in archeology. This type of writing allows a simple to object to be put under a microscope and perceived in many ways. Expository writing can ultimately contain cultural, literal, historical  information.

It all comes down to HYGIENE. Today’s societal practices would dictate that hair jewelry from the past would be acceptable to collect but not wear, because it is not acceptable to wear something that was in contact with another person’s skin, or in this case scalp. No matter how old something is, the act of it touching someone else’s skin makes wearing such an item unacceptable under contemporary norms. To illustrate my point I will use the case of the thrift store. One would have no problem going to a thrift store and buying a shirt but not underwear. This is because its common practice for people of today’s society to wear under garments, and even with this is mind, whatever article of clothing would have to be dry cleaned, at least for the average person. Collecting an object doesn’t fall under such strict societal guidelines. The collection of hair jewelry would be perfectly fine, because the objects would pose no risk in terms of hygiene.
I find the claim that cultures have developed better hygiene practices over time to be self-evident. I am a huge fan of the HBO series King of Thrones; however, when watching the popular Sunday night series, I frequently say think to myself how nasty the conditions are. While today its common and most would say appropriate for one to take a bath everyday, men and women of that time would be lucky to take a bath once a month. The same mode of reasoning follows as to why we would no longer fill trinkets of dead human bone and flesh. For someone to be in possession of dead human bone and flesh would be considered unsanitary.
Shifting patterns of human behavior with regard to dead things can tell us a lot about the advancements in hygiene of a particular culture. If we look at societies today, cultures that tend to have negative behaviors towards dead things, normally have mores advanced health care systems. In ancient times, societal taboos were based mainly off religious beliefs, but today societal taboos have more to do with health issues. For example, two hundred years ago young adults were discouraged from having sex because the bible told them so. Today, young adults are discouraged from having sex because of the health risk. All in all, different societies dealings with dead people can tell us a lot about their culture, but I feel this is a stronger correlation to that of their health practices.

Inside of the rehearsal space, floating atop a sea of tangled cables, an object lies along the floor. It measures at about 40 inches long, 13 inches wide, and weighs an estimated 8.5 lbs (Shine). The artifact appears to be an amalgamation of natural and technological features: its anatomy is comprised of two central pieces of wood, with various other elements like metals and plastics intertwined into the surface of the structure. With even just a light tap, the object begins to vibrate, causing a whir of buzzy noise to fill the room. Though mostly unmarked, the top end boasts the words “FENDER” and “VINTAGE MODIFIED JAZZMASTER” which are etched deeply into it. This object, known as an electric guitar, has earned its place among the most unique instruments in history. Though it has existed for less than a century, the conditions surrounding its history and design yielded an artifact that would transcend genres, symbolize developing countercultures, and provide an entirely new approach to creation and expression.

In order to understand how this instrument has achieved such major cultural significance, one must first look to the intricacies of its design. Though invisible to the naked eye, the inner workings of the object house a great deal of complex wiring, similar to the guts inside of living organisms. In fact, when scanning from top to bottom, there are several parts of this object that seem to be a reflection of human anatomy. The guitar features a “neck” 22.5 inches in scale, along with a “head” comprised of a front bulb metal pegs along the back. Likewise, the “body” section comes complete with parts such an arm, a back, and a “belly”. The body is a structure that is rather unorthodox. Forming no conceivably recognizable shape, it can only be defined by one feature: it’s curves. Though technically amorphous, the buxom design is uncannily similar to the hourglass shape of a woman’s body. This is the first of many signs that this artifact that was purposefully constructed to be admired and desired. The sense of allure is also particularly noticeable when considering the smooth polyester finish: featured in colors such as “cherry red”, “ice blue”, and “butterscotch”, the artifact now appears more akin to a voluptuous piece of candy.

Additionally, there are characteristics of the instrument that embody aspects of nature. Once again, much like a human’s anatomy, the make of this object is naturally flawed. A close examination of the wooden neck reveals it to be slightly bowed and crooked. Just as the human spine is prone to lose alignment under the stress and pulls of everyday life, so does this Jazzmaster under the tension of 6 metallic strings, and intense bending of the tremolo arm. The power of sound is often referred to as having a certain kind of “energy” or giving of certain “vibrations”. By examining the neck of the guitar, it’s clear to see how. Scaling from the nut to the bridge, one may notice that the space between each of the frets becomes increasing smaller as one travels down towards the body. Compare this to textbook examples of energy vibrations and the electromagnetic spectrum, and a diagram of the power of sound waves becomes revealed right before one’s very eyes.

Perhaps one of the biggest indications of the cultural significance of this object lies in the unusual complexity of the history that surrounds it. Judging by the limited wear on the body, and the text “Vintage Modified Jazzmaster” along the headstock, the artifact at hand is not an original model, but a reissue of one from previous decades. The fact that this model continues to be reproduced certainly suggests that it sold well, but in reality, the instrument was virtually ignored at the time of its market introduction. In 1958, the guitar was first produced and released by the Fender Electric Guitar Company as an upscale version of their legendary Stratocaster model. Leo Fender conceptualized the instrument as a “deluxe” guitar, and marketed it as having a more “mellow” sound, specifically to suit the needs of jazz guitar players. However, the fate of the guitar would forever be changed as neither jazz enthusiasts nor the burgeoning rock-and-rollers seemed to be interested in it. From my own experience, I would argue that this is due in part to the Jazzmaster’s hyper resonant qualities, which produced significantly more feedback and white noise than the typical electric guitar of the period. The hi-gain, punchy sound was simply too raucous for the golden generation, who valued harmony and simplicity over energy.

Take, for example, this clip of the Everly Brothers performing their hit “All I Have to Do is Dream” from 1958. Arguably one of the defining songs of this era, the sound of an electric Stratocaster is present, but is placed far in the background while the gentle pluck of acoustics hold dominion. Despite Leo’s vision, the culture that the Jazzmaster was introduced to could not utilize the potential that the technology offered. It would take nearly another 20 years for the landscape of popular culture to catch up with this noisy, wooden object.

However, generational displacement of objects is no anomaly; in fact, it could be argued that many of the world most culturally resonant objects (musical ones in particular) do not find cultural adoption until years after their initial inception. For example, in her essay “Lucubrations on a Lava Lamp”, Jennifer Roberts supports this notion by examining the history of one of the paradigms of the 1960’s. Though the object would become espoused in the digs of the psychedelic counter-culture, the “Lava Lite” was initially intended as a mainstream house hold item, meant for dinner tables, the tops of television sets or as one ad even states, “…perfect for the study or den, so right for the executive suite” (Roberts). Much like the Lava Lamp, the make of a Jazzmaster was an unusual blend between the organic and the technological: it utilized the same standard technology and materials as any other electric guitar of the period, but the combination of a free-floating bridge, tremolo arm, and single-coil electromagnetic pickups created a sound that was too discordant to be adopted by popular culture, and too early for the developing counter culture to be able to embrace it (Audiofanzine).

The Jazzmaster was certainly not the first popular guitar to be met with initial rejection. In fact, across the 84 years since the electric guitars inception, there have been at least 4 major shifts of preferences in body style and sound, each accompanying the evolution of trends in popular culture. For each one of these shifts in sound, the industry’s answer has always been a model that was introduced in previous years, but faced initial rejection by players and listeners alike. In order to understand how a commercially rejected guitar could eventually become a godsend for generations worth of underground musicians, one must first understand the musical climates that preceded it.

The first era spans from 1931 to 1963, beginning with Adolph Rickenbacker’s invention of the electromagnetic pickup, and ending with the rise of the British Invasion. This period emphasized smoother, non-invasive guitar sounds with minimal distortion. This clip of Elvis and his backing band embodies all of these characteristics, both visually and sonically. The featured guitar here is a 1950’s Gretsch archtop, a staple among players of this era. This model has an unusually wide, hollow-body with Filter’Tron style pickups to achieve a sound more akin to an acoustic instrument. It should be noted that in this footage, the electric guitar’s sound is buried in the background, as the piano remains the primary focus behind Elvis’ voice. This is rather unusual, considering that the inspiration behind creating the electromagnetic pickup was to allow the guitar a chance to be heard above other instruments. The fact that its sound remained so constrained during this era reveals much about the fears performers and music producers had about the power of this newfangled technology. In a culture that embraced large size and minimal volume, it’s clear to see how the sleek and noisy Jazzmaster model would fail to resonate within the market.

The second shift of electric guitars spanned from around 1963 to 1970, as British players and American copy-cats chimed in a new generation of exciting and expansive sounds. Juxtaposed to the muted, low end plucks found on early pop and rockabilly records, the era of the 1960’s heralded in a new emphasis on bright, trebly guitar tones. The epitome of this generation of rock music was without a doubt the German-made Rickenbacker guitar models, are famous for the sparkling, jangly sounds that would become synonymous with the music of 1960’s culture. In fact, much like the Jazzmaster, the Rickenbacker Capri series was unveiled in 1958, and was also initially met with confusion in the commercial market. However, unlike the Fender product, the Rickenbacker models would gain widespread appeal at a much quicker pace, as the company began branding itself as the “Beatle-backer” because of John Lennon and George Harrison’s extensive use of their guitars, especially during the fab-four’s formative years. In addition to rock and roll music, this brand was also responsible for ushering in folk music into popular culture, which used its sparkling tone to refresh their classical songwriter arrangements. In this period, the Jazzmaster would see a brief stint in popularity, due to its role in the short-lived surf music craze, but this wave of success was only temporary (Wolk). Once again, the sound was deemed too harsh to have a place in pop music, but the first signs of a significant alternative music movement was beginning to take formation.

But before the Jazzmaster would eventually be adopted amongst mainstream culture, it was the Les Paul electric guitar model that would be the voice of early 70’s guitar players. What little footing the Jazzmaster had gained in the 1960’s was inevitably lost because of a new emphasis on a “fat” guitar tone with longer sustain. The Les Paul was introduced by Gibson in 1952, and once again rose to universal acclaim despite a long period of lukewarm receptions. The success of the instrument is due largely to the sound of its duel humbucker pickups, responsible for creating the wide and powerful guitar tones that would be adopted by musicians such as Peter Frampton, Mick Ronson, and Jimmy Page. As a result, the “retro” look and sound of the Fender Jazzmaster was once again scoffed at by most musicians of this era, and production of the instrument ceased around 1976.

While two decades worth of commercial failure typically marks the inadequacy of a product, in hindsight, the Jazzmaster’s long incubation period was essential to fulfilling its fateful role within underground rock culture. As production began to wind down, hundreds of Jazzmasters began to appear along the walls of pawnshops and discount music stores all throughout the world. However, this also meant that new, high-end electric guitars could be purchased at low prices, thus opening up the door for many musicians who may have been unable to purchase such an instrument otherwise. Just around the end of the Jazzmaster’s first production, cult heroes such as Tom Verlaine (of Television) and Elvis Costello began acquiring guitars from pawnshops, and used them in marking their unique images and sound. Notably, Costello used his Jazzmaster as a centerpiece of his 1977 debut “My Aim is True”, including on the front and back cover art. The guitar, which he claims he “never knew even existed” until his bargain-bin discovery, became crucial to creating the sharp, “spy movie” pluck on his early hits such as “Watching the Detectives” and “(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea”. Much like the archtops, Rickenbackers, and Les Paul models, the previously ignored Fender instrument would finally begin to build a relationship with an emerging generation of musicians.

By the 1980’s the Jazzmaster had become a cult phenomenon, playing a major part in the sound of the developing “art rock” and American “indie rock” scenes. In particular, members of Sonic Youth formed a deep connection with the guitar model, as the hyper-resonant qualities that were deemed inappropriate for previous generations were now perfectly suited for the discordant alternative movement. Because they were so easily replaced, Sonic Youth hoarded dozens of these pawnshop treasures: their inexpensive price tag created the opportunity to bands to conduct extensive experimentations, including unorthodox modifications and new techniques such as bashing them with drum sticks, or recording the destruction of the instrument. Just a few years later, the guitar would become a staple in the arsenal of timeless pop bands such as The Cure and The Smiths. Much like the Lava Lamps of Robert’s essay, this object may have been invented by one generation, but it was destined to become synonymous with another.

What made (and still makes) the Jazzmaster truly stand apart is that the combination of its history, versatility, and flaws have crafted it into one of the few object that provides the player with total control, producing an entirely new range of potential expression. The greatest testament to this statement comes from the work of Kevin Shields, guitar player for the Irish rock group My Bloody Valentine. Between the 1988 and 1991, Shields transcended musical charts, and created entirely new genres of music by taking the style of his peers and adding onto it with open tunings and using the tremolo arm to excessively manipulate pitch. The result was a whirling and warped sound known as “Glide guitar”, which creates dense, highly texturized soundscapes. According to Shields, when being played at extreme volumes, Glide guitar can reportedly influence brainwaves, and puts the listener in a trance-like state(BBC FOUR).

Shields claims to owe his success entirely to the “constant feeling of expression” provided by the Fender Jazzmaster, and he’s not wrong for doing so. Once again returning to its anatomy, there are several key features responsible for crafting this otherworldly sound. Firstly, the combination of the free-floating bridge with the natural imperfections of its wooden body results in an unusually high amount of string resonance along the object’s neck. The overtones created by this resonance have a sound akin to eastern instruments such as a sitar or a tanpura. The sound is incredibly organic, as the vibrations create a natural motion which wanes and waxes, even when droning on a single note. When the motion of the resonant strings is met with a bending tremolo arm, the resulting sound waves are highly texturized and possess a circadian kind of rhythm that is not easily replicated otherwise. As stated previously, all guitars create vibrations, but the characteristics of the Jazzmaster take these energy waves, and manipulate them with massive swells and oscillating tonality to a dizzying, psychedelic effect.

Despite its unparalleled features, the Jazzmaster spent much of its life being misunderstood and dismissed by the company and the culture that reared it. But in this period, stuffed among the pawnshop clutter, the guitar would take on a second life, and evolve into a symbol for change and musical innovation. As if by fate, the Fender model became a physical representation of the repudiation facing the underground rockers who wielded them.By the 21st century, the Jazzmaster made a triumphant return to the market, and has remained there to this day. In his book “Loveless”, author Mike McGonigal shares that he, among others, see glide guitar style is “the pinnacle of guitar music”, and yet to be surpassed (McGonigal). While it may be unclear how time and technology will alter the musical climate, it appears that an object once written off by its culture may also be the one to have the last laugh.

A fitting accomplishment for Fender’s greatest problem child.

References:

“Fender Classic Player Jazzmaster & Jaguar: The Test.” Audiofanzine. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Dec. 2014.”

“McGonigal, Mike. Loveless. New York: Continuum, 2007. Print.”

“Prown, Jules David., Kenneth Haltman, and Jennifer L. Roberts. American Artifacts: Essays in Material Culture. East Lansing: Michigan State UP, 2000. Print.”

“Shine, James W., Jr. “The Intricacies of the Fender Jazzmaster.” N.p., 3 Jan. 2005. Web. 07 Oct. 2014.”

“The Joy of the Guitar Riff. Perf. Kevin Shields. BBC, 2014. BBC Four. Web. 07 Oct. 2014.”

“Wolk, Douglas. “The Fender Jazzmaster’s Story, From the Fireballs to Lee Ranaldo.”

The present object, at its face, has a triangular shaped side, measured at 7.6 inches tall. At the height of this measurement, the object is sectioned off by a perfectly leveled horizontal indentation that yields to a pyramid shaped portion at .3 inches tall that crowns the remaining portion of the body. At the objects peak, it stands at 7.9 inches tall. The slope of the triangle shaped side is roughly 101 degrees from base to apex.

The object has 4 sides of uniform dimensions equal to the side measured above. When looking at the bottom of the object, when it is turned with it’s apex, at the top of the pyramid shape, pointing downward, we see that the base is squared. Each side of the square, at the bottom of the object, measures at 4.5 inches.  Its weight is measured at 330g.

The first component seen on this object is the indentation at what we can presume is the objects front. From 3.4 inch to 7.4 inch marks from the bottom of the object’s face is where this indentation occurs, measured at roughly .3 inches deep into the object’s front. This indentation has a black triangular shaped finish on what appears to be treated plastic. On either side of the triangle are groves following, perfectly, the original triangle shape of the object.

Directly center of this area, resting vertically, is a metal strip . It is thin with several grooves in it, and measured perfectly starting at the bottom and occurring more rapidly as we scan its features to its top. This piece is not attached to this area, rather, if we follow its origination, and maneuver the whole object so that the apex of the triangle is pointing at us, we see a rectangular shaped hole where the object’s point of origination extends from (see image l). The rectangular hole measures about a third of the indentation in the whole object, and extends about half of the indented area’s base, centered, at 3.4 inches on the slope from the base of the object.

Enclosed around the metal strip, and made similar material, is a pitchfork shaped device with three prongs. The outer prongs of this device hug the metal piece and are thick, whereas the thinner piece, the center prong, is positioned directly atop the metal piece, so that the areas of the metal strip are not visible wherever the center prong rests. They seem to latch on to the grooves of the metal piece and the pitchfork device can be moved to the desired position on the many grooves. The metal piece, at its very top, is housed within a ridge on the indented section. When the metal piece is removed from this housing at its top it snaps forward from the front of the object and swings from one side to the next.

The final piece of the indented portion of the object is located directly underneath the metal piece. It is an additional indentation that is colored gray. It extends the same height as the metal piece but is markedly wider. The component that is most notable of this area is the printed and underlined numbers. The underlines correlate in position with the groves of the metal strip — so that the top number, 40, is underlined very closely to where the first groove of the metal strip begins, when housed in the ridge; and the next number from the top, 42, correlates with the following groove of the metal strip.

Each concurrent number appears on the opposite side of the metal strip, on the final indentation, and they are lowered so that 40 is higher and on the left side (from our perspective) of the metal piece compared with 42; while 42 is higher than and on the right side of the metal piece compared with 44. (40 and 44 are both on the left side of the metal piece).

At the bottom of the final indentation appears to be a pitchfork shaped figure enclosed in a black diamond. Underneath the diamond is the word “Wittner,” presumably the objects maker.

The object, excluding the indentation mentioned previously, appears to be made of a mahogany finish. It has several black striations from bottom to top and it resembles a wooden finish. This finish reveals itself to be a hard plastic by its smooth surface when touched and inspected further. On the the object’s left side, if we presume the indented area is the front, there is a metal knob that makes a click noise when turned, and the noise resonates from the interior of the object, in an area that, to be inspected, would require dismantling the entire object to view the mechanism causing the clicking noise. This knob, presumably, winds up the thin metal piece in the indentation, and when it is wound, it powers the metal strip’s swings, and provides force for the strip to oscillate at different rates, depending on the position of the pitchfork shaped device on the ridges on the metal piece.

The higher the pitchfork shaped device is on the metal strip, the slower it operates — so that 208, the number lowest on the final indentation, swings the metal strip faster than 40, the number highest on the final indentation. Whenever the metal strip crosses the center, where it is housed, it makes the clicking noise described earlier. These clicks can be timed, when maneuvering the pitchfork device, enclosing the thin metal piece in the indentation, downward or upward, and synchronized with the second hand of a clock — or faster and slower.

The final piece we will inspect is the “Wittner” inscription on the final indention, underneath the black diamond shape that houses the pitchfork shape (not to be confused with the pitchfork shaped device that encloses a portion of the metal strip). A quick internet search of the inscription coupled with the object’s description yields promising results. Wittner is a German manufacturing company that specializes in various musical auxiliary equipment. Filtering through the items in which our object is not, in its aspects of shape, size, and color, we find that our object is a Wittner made metronome Model No. 812 K, plastic casing (see image ll).

This object is not specific to the maker Wittner. Johann Maelzel is one of the early, and questionable, inventors of the modern metronome, but the design of early model components are accredited to Galileo, who first discovered the practical uses modern clock mechanisms.

Maelzel’s professional history is intertwined with Beethoven’s composition of the “Wellington’s Victory,” a composition that Maelzel commissioned the pianist to write and that was eventually performed on another contraption of the inventor’s, the panharmonicon. But after a bitter battle with the composer over legal ownership of the “Wellington’s Victory,” Maelzel, while on a world tour, died aboard the Otis en route to Philadelphia from Havana — but his contribution lasted.

Despite Maelzel’s German lineage, the term metronome actually comes from Greek. It is a combination of the words metron (measure) and nomos (relegating). Whether the ancient Greeks had any notion of developing a metronome predating Maelzel’s model is unknown, but archaeological history reveals that ancient Greece utilized various early time-keeping devices. One of these devices is called the water clock (see image lll).

Water clocks, though used by many ancient cultures, originated in Egypt around two thousand B.C. These clocks were powered by a water container, that, when emptied into a reservoir, lifted a floating device attached to handle. This handle, attached to a gear directly above it, rose as water filled the reservoir and turned the gear which controlled the movement of a clock dial that made up much of the device’s face. When the water in the supply container ran empty, and the reservoir was filled, the clock stopped and both devices would have to be restored in situ; that is, the container must be refilled, and the reservoir must be emptied . This design required constant manipulation by the ancient Greeks to keep the clocks running, but the goal, if kept, would provide an accurate measure of time elapsed. For this purpose, the water clocks calculated time more precisely than the obelisk, which ancient cultures used with ubiquity, largely due to obelisks’ functioning relegated to daylight hours — they relied on casting shadows determined by the sun’s position in the sky.

The intricate taxonomy of early Greek and ancient Egyptian water clocks begot innovation in the centuries following that led to the invention of the clock, as they are today, and other peripheral chronometrical inventions such as the Wittner metronome Model No. 812 K, plastic casing.

This particular metronome assisted in the composition process of an alto saxophone and piano piece that won first prize at the 2011 Ohio Federation of Music Clubs’ Composition Competition collegiate level. The young man who won the competition began playing the piano at thirteen years of age. During his artistic infancy, he practiced fourteen hours a day, measuring his notes and discerning the distinct taste the staccato and legato flavor a piece of music. His daily schedule deferred to his practice schedule and he committed to the precedent routine with brief rests throughout the day, the naps supplementing the lack of major REM sleep. This schedule would change depending on what time his bus would carry him to his middle and, later, high school classes. He initially learned pieces of music by ear, playing crude renditions of Handel and fumbling through advanced chord progressions of Thelonious Monk.

He exhibited a singular interest in classical and jazz music that distinguished him from his peers. His appetite for the thrill of practicing, however raw, lead him to pursue a richer knowledge of the artistry of composition and arrangement. At fifteen years old, he studied under his first piano instructor who would refine his artistic capabilities. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, at seven o’clock, he would meet with his instructor to develop his ability to read measures of sheet music. Immediately, the instructor was captivated by the student’s quick knowledge and measured understanding of the classics.

He was advised, after a brief stint into his guided direction, by the instructor to seek a more advanced teacher. That year, during his first semester of tenth grade, he heeded his former instructor’s advice and he went on to study under a master class pianist who, over the progression of her advisement, would suffer bouts of disorientation and forgetfulness that accompanied dementia that she suffered in her aged years. Nevertheless, the relationship was a fruitful one and the student decided to attend Shorter University in Rome, Georgia (the city’s name commemorates the Italian city with the same name) in remote appreciation of Italian composer, Antonio Vivaldi.

The student performed well under the tuition of his professors at Shorter, and he graduated three years after he first entered the program. He amassed a comprehensive repertoire with works ranging from early classical to later twentieth century, and many of his own compositions (some of which he entered into competition and won). He then went on to pursue his master’s degree at Cincinnati Conservatory of Music after studying in Austria, the “capital of classical music,” where he learned that composition better suited his interest. There, in his second and final year at CCM, he wrote the piece that would win him the 2011 Ohio Federation of Music Clubs’ Composition Competition collegiate level, and placed him in an excellent position to pursue his DMA at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, and after his sojourn in this city (named after Odysseus’s refuge in Homer’s Odyssey) there is no way of knowing what direction his musical journey will take him.

The Wittner metronome, Model No. 812 K, plastic casing, accompanied the student in much of his journey, from Rome, Georgia, to Austria; from Cincinnati to Ithaca; and It was used to aide in the preparation of many pieces before garnering the mentioned win. Prior to its current ownership, it was shipped from Allgäu, Germany, according to Wittner’s shipping address.

If this metronome will ever be encased in glass, like Beethoven’s famed metronome from his landmarked house in Baden, Austria, (see map below) is too early to deduct; but there are millions of metronomes, many similar to Model No. 812 K, plastic casing, in use today measuring the practice of aspiring, and accomplished, musicians that may be curated to exhibits such as Beethoven’s .

The Model No. 812 K, plastic casing, may very well be an anachronism with the most recent metronomic devices being digital and found online. They range from traditionally standard (40 to 208 beats per minute [bpm]) to technologically advanced digital interfaces that measure time at 900bpm.

Various measures of time are useful to what flavor of music is being created. The 72bpm in “Kaneda’s Death, Pt.2 (Adagio in D minor)” from the 2007 science fiction film Sunshine, is unique from the 140bpm in Beyonce’s “Drunk in Love,” which, in turn, is unique from the faster 380bpm, at its peak, in John Coltrane’s “Giant steps.” The difference in tempo can be culture and genre specific and may provide abstract insight on the culture attributed to them (high energy 1970s disco tracks tend to have faster tempos than the religiously rigid 17th century baroque pieces).

The metronome simply measures time and a key component of many traditional metronomes is the pendulum. The pendulum on a metronome is a thin, oscillating piece that emits a clicking noise as it crosses the center line of the object. (This pendulum was described earlier in our model as the thin metal piece). Galileo Galilei developed this piece in the early 17th century, but its full functionality came later that century with the invention of the pendulum clock by Christiaan Huygens. Galileo played a major role in scientific revolution during the European Renaissance, a movement that was concerned with ordering the nature.

The clock maintains its basic function, as it has since prehistoric Egypt, with their invention of the obelisk, and that function is to track time.

Although the ancient obelisks were designed to designate the most adequate and productive farming time for the early Egyptians, through the objects’ shadow casting under sunlight, our present mode of life is not disparate from the early Egyptian’s ideas of adhering to the order, or rather, the ordering, of time.

The Model No. 812 K, plastic casing, and its analogues, function reveals the nature of music; and that is, music is a sequence of sounds moving through time. Differences in pattern are in music that reflect the performer or writer or the overarching cultural notions that make up any particular piece, but the principal objective is to utilize the time. Like the ancient Egyptians whose timepiece tracked the growth of their crops, or the pianist that practiced fourteen hours a day to improve his skill, society’s daily occurrences are measured progression, or stagnation, through time — the Egyptian farmland is either tilled or not, but time continues to move.

We are able to order ourselves with time. From limitations in statutes and time stipulations in international treaties, to the more commonplace and, oftentimes, fleeting occurrences in our world, such as the aging of the piano instructor, our lives revolve around the passage of time. We can, in that time, become pianist, inventors, or farmers — or an innumerable host of desirable persons driven by a range of motivations.

This notion of employing the passage of time to optimize human utility, chronicled earlier with the student pianist and the metronome, and that humans are governed by time, the Egyptians and their crops, is condensed, at its essence, in the functionality of the metronome (that the object measures timing to aide in the production of the most suitable composition for its composer) yet the piece must remain in accordance with the parameters of time. The character’s mentioned (the Egyptians, the Greek, the disco music, the baroque music, Beethoven, Maelzel, the student, and his two instructors) all adhered to time, whether or not they were aware, to produce an output — or reap the consequences of it — some more socially and culturally impactful than others. Nevertheless, they were able to impact in some way or another and are comparable to the pieces of music, at their embryonic stage, measured by the metronome, and by time in general, in that it is an laborious task to compose a product worthy to be called symphonic if time is not administered properly, and with the desired flavor, yet something must be created lest time be wasted.

It is an elusive, garbled, and all inclusive concept with many components all seeming to compound upon the whole, repeat what has occurred,  and connect dissimilar units.

The artifact appears as a soft rectangular solid of black, silver, and grey- cast in aluminum, glass, and hard plastic.  The body of the object is covered in a shell of light blue rubber and hard, medium-blue plastic, measuring 2.31 inches wide, and weighing 4.9 ounces.  Its depth measures 0.37 inches, and the object is 4.5 inches tall.

On the front mirror black surface of the object, near the bottom, there appears a slightly recessed circle, perhaps a button, with a white square inscribed on the center, measuring no more than a half-centimeter or so on each side.  Near the top of the façade there is a rectangular shaped recession, with grey mesh at its base.  Adjacent to the grey mesh, sits a tiny circular lens.  On the east vertical side of the artifact, there are what appear to be two buttons, labeled “+” and “-”, and a switch which can be shifted upward or downward.  When shifted downward, the switch reveals an orange rectangle of color above it.

The west vertical side of the object remains flush, lacking any modifying attributes.  The south vertical side features two small grey mesh ovals, two tiny screws, and an opening shaped like a rectangle, which appears to be an electronic female plug.  The north vertical side features one oval shaped button and one circular opening which also appears to be a female electrical port of some variety.

Removing the plastic and rubber coverings and directing attention to the back of the object, one discovers what appears to be a tiny camera embedded into the top left corner with an accompanying flash, an image of a silver apple with a bite missing, and the following inscription on the back of the object:

“iPhone…Designed by Apple in California…Assembled in China…Model A1387…EMC 2430…FCC ID: BCG-E2430A… IC: 579C-E2430A.

Engaging with the object yields the discovery that this rectangular solid is in fact an interactive electronic device, likely to be used for communication, given the inscription on the rear, “iPhone.”  Pressing the oval button on the north vertical side activates the front black-mirrored glass to reveal the date and time, a directive at the bottom, “slide to unlock,” two small digital oval buttons at center top and center bottom, and a camera icon in the bottom-right corner of the space.

The device “awakens” by touching the fingers upon the face to manipulate the device.  Sliding down the top oval digital button reveals a brief weather report and the date:

“Saturday November 8^th… Partly cloudy currently.  The high will be 61 degrees.  Partly cloudy tonight with a low of 43 degrees… Calendar.”

Sliding up the bottom oval digital button reveals a menu of buttons:

An airplane, a WiFi symbol, a Bluetooth symbol, a moon symbol, and a symbol with a lock circumscribed by a curved arrow.

Below these buttons is a sliding scale brightness control, with a sun emitting small rays on the left side and a sun emitting larger rays to its right.  Beneath that bar lies a sliding scale controlling volume: a spectrum bookended by a speaker symbol on the left, and a speaker symbol on the right, emitting sound waves.  At the bottom of the screen, 4 more buttons appear, revealing the tools they represent: a flashlight, a clock, a calculator, and a clock.

At the top of the screen, a status bar sits, indicating the level of connectivity, the service provider’s name, Virgin, and the form of service connectivity, 3G.  To the right of this information, a tiny alarm clock, a faded Bluetooth symbol, the figure 75%, and a battery-shaped icon (the battery being ¾ full) appear queued.

With the face of the iPhone unlocked, the screen features several squares that, when pressed, reveal applications which the device can operate:

Contacts, Notes, Weather, Wells Fargo, Calculator, Maps, Podcasts, Spotify, Music, Clock, Settings, and Safari.

At the bottom of the screen, a secondary row of applications is anchored at the base:

Phone, Messages, Calendar, and Gmail.

Two circles, one white and one grey, appear above the bottom row. Swiping the finger to the right on the first screen reveals a second screen with similar applications to the first screen.

The following set of images will show the reader some perspectives considered during the writing process.  These images composed a portion of an iPhone 3-D modeling draft.

 

Having focused on the physical attributes and the functions of the object, we can move from description and speculation to deduce that this object is indeed a version the Apple iPhone, a smartphone manufactured sometime after October 2011, making the device an expression of, more or less, present day culture.

 

Here’s Apple’s Trailer for the iPhone 4s.

 

Taking Prown’s object metaphors into consideration, the attributive description of the iPhone is smooth, shiny, hard, opaque, light, thin, and clean.  Apple’s design seeks to draw out creativity and style, affirming life, enhancing productivity, and creating an atmosphere of “cool.”  “Cool ” as a concept implies exclusivity; Dr. Thorsten Botz-Bornstein, a philosophy professor in Kuwait writing for Philosophy Now says, in his article about cool, “the aesthetics and ethics of cool fractures and alienates in order to bring forward unusual constellations of ideas and actions. In a phrase: the cool person lives in a constant state of alienation.”

The minimalistic design resists a loud projection of metaphor like Prown’s teapot: almost no one could call an iPhone “grandmotherly” or “comforting.”  I have noticed in my own work, the analogy of the smartphone as a parasite.  As a bartender, I’ve observed friends and couples out to lunch or dinner together.  At some point, the conversations diminish, and I see the people drift away into the illumined faces of their devices.  The objects that were designed to foster creativity and ease of communication seem to have created a precipitate and inverse reaction in the user: a sense of distraction and alienation.  I may be making a generalization based on my cursory observations in the workplace, but I believe this example to be an object lesson, illustrative of a trend in culture towards a compulsive relationship to mobile devices and the Internet.  As pendulums are wont to do, they swing between polarities, and I believe we’ve seen the extremity of over involvement with our gadgets, that over involvement being the causal event for the age of loneliness.

The muted features of the iPhone- the rounded sides, the relatively light and thin body, suggest that the object should seamlessly assimilate into a person’s life.  Furthermore, the sleekness and lack of moving parts indicates that the object would basically be invisible.  One could leave it in a pocket or bag and forget about it, thus allowing the iPhone to almost become part of the body.

Russell Belk  states in his article, “The Extended Self in the Digital World”, “The Internet and many digital devices free us from the constraints of time and place and create other, virtual, times and places.”  While the devices have their own kind of “intelligence,” the effect they have on their owners is profound.  The sharing and social media components of smartphone technology also have implications on the extended self.  Belk states, “many new possessions and technologies…create different ways through which we can meet, interact with, and extend our aggregate selves through other people while experiencing a transcendent sense that we are part of something bigger than us alone (Belk 494).   The desire to connect with other people is part of human nature.  The social media juggernaut Facebook, much like corporate radio, have realized what Matt Silverman records in his interview with author Douglas Rushkoff: “the people paying are marketers. That makes them the customers. And it means [users] are the product being delivered to those customers.”

As technology trends further towards ubiquity, mobile technology shrinks in size, increases in multi-functionality, and becomes easier to come by.  Service providers offer free phones and free upgrades that accompany contracts and contract renewals.  A compulsive relationship to technology and media seems to evoke the words of Marx recorded in Walter Benjamin’s The Arcades Project:

“All the physical and intellectual senses…have been replaced by the simple alienation of all the senses, the sense of having.”

This concept of alienation is especially interesting considering Belk’s ideas of the extended self.   Belk’s ideas about virtual brand communities draw an interesting corollary:  Belk states that normally, aggregating one’s sense of self with branded goods usually requires ownership; in the digital world, this aggregation can happen in virtual environment in which the user or consumer can engage brands without having to invest capital, creating a virtual sense of affiliated identity.  The iPhone bridges the gap between physical and digital possession- one can physically possess an iPhone and then digitally possess all sorts of content.

This idea of the iPhone diverges wholly from older concepts of the telephone in many ways- early phones existed as stationary objects, mounted to a wall and hard-wired into the circuitry inside a building, making the object much less personalized.  The evolution of technology from early telephone concepts leading up to the moment in time represented by this object shows a reshaping of the form and the role of the telephone in culture.  The major shift is that of purpose: the telephone was a device for communication.  Early cellular telephones, car phones, and pagers were devices made to enable interpersonal communication.  While the smartphone is a device for communication, it is also a device for entertainment, advertisement, shopping, and distraction.  The iPhone is a type of status symbol, unto itself.  There are those who have iPhone and those who do not have iPhones.  The values of the Apple Company imply creativity, business savvy, and an admission into a type of status of cool  in the products they sell, creating a binary dynamism between those who buy-in to the Apple lifestyle and those who do not.

On the other hand, the iPhone is a valuable tool.  It synthesizes the functionality of many other tools, thus allowing users to having a myriad of options available to them at the press of a button.  There is nothing inherently wrong with innovation.  The success of the modern age stems from innovation­– the average human life expectancy has increased with the innovations of the last two hundred years.  Science and technology offer the promise of a better life and a more informed population.

The ecological aspect of understanding the iPhone should also be considered as a part of studying the cultural impact and heritage of this object. Looking at the concept of ecological foot printing with respect to this object, one can learn a lot about what kind of effect it has on the planet and its people.  Writer and engineer Jim Merkel writes in his book, Radical Simplicity about the call for examining patterns of consumption and looking at how the individual impacts the global community with his or her consumption habits.  Merkel uses some mathematical concepts to determine the bioproductive area of the planet, subtracting areas that cannot produce vegetation and areas covered by water or development.  With a figure of 6.7 billion humans, the bioproductive area allotted for each would be 4.7 acres.  Those people earning higher than $100,000 annually use more than 60 acres of bioproductive space annually (Merkel 81-84).  Merkel suggests that the solution to the planetary issues of over consumption and widespread income discrepancies would be to consume less, and generate less capital (Merkel 52).  Such a concept suggests a radical shift in socioeconomic ideology.

The culture of Apple and the sensationalism surrounding the iPhone brand calls into question the binaries produced from a sense of having and not having. Examining these binaries could look towards a Marxist critique examining the relationships between producer and consumer and the labor value represented by the object.  This evokes that masking of how and by whom an object came to be under a social value of the object in question: people want the iPhone, but, oftentimes, they don’t know how or by whom the iPhone was made.  Part of this snapshot of history the iPhone 4s offers is a look at the structural issues inherent in the high demand for smartphone technology.  Art and culture have begun responding to the economic and social ramifications of the technology.

“Ruined” by Lynn Nottage, a play about the violent situation in the Congo, partially brought upon by the mining of a rare-earth mineral, Coltan discusses issues that are precipitate to an increased demand for mobile technology.  Coltan is refined into a powder and used in cellphone technology to keep devices from getting too hot.

Coltan is a key ingredient in the fabrication of iPhone circuit boards.

Nottage’s work connects the sexual violence perpetrated against women in the Congo as a precipitate of these internal social and political conflicts, which arose in part, to the rising demand for cellphones to be manufactured and sold in the western world.

The aim of a material culture analysis of any object should illuminate revelations about the culture that produced said object. The culture of American iPhone users is but only one aspect of the greater picture, as iPhone labor is outsourced, therefore globalizing the artifact.  In order to get a clearer picture, it is important to examine the world of those involved in the manufacturing process as well as that of the end users. The situation of the laborers creating Apple products has been something under scrutiny in recent years.  At the Chinese plant, Foxconn, journalists have exposed sweatshop conditions.  An outbreak of suicides in the Foxconn plant, which produces some of Apple’s products, deepens the concern over the human cost of manufacturing luxury items. These disturbing facts have a contradictory and interrupting effect when taken into view along with the aesthetics of the brand: a paradox between a projected image and a gritty reality.

 

Juxtaposing the images of violence to the images of sensational consumerism raise an eyebrow to the notions of ethical consumption.  How can today’s modern consumer , whose identity to some degree, has been acculturated into the use of these kinds of technology, move forward and make decisions about their own consumption– by understanding that purchasing any object supports and reinforces the existing relationships being negotiated among: the planet’s resources, the laborer who helped to produce the goods, the facility which produces the object, the parent company, the industry that transports the goods, and the retailers who sell the objects.  Even if one does not agree with a Marxist critique of capitalist consumption, it is possible to take into consideration that, working within the system, one can make an informed effort to purchase ethically sourced objects with an understanding that many of the structural issues that underlie the situation will only change at a glacial pace.

Staring at the muted lines of aluminum, glass and hard plastic, one begins to drift.  So much progress, theory, branding, marketing, research, blood, coal, steam, man hours, industrial processes, fire, iron, despair, hope, innovation, and synergy all play into the formation of something that tries so hard to be invisible.  The fact of life for many Americans in 2014 is that smartphone technology is second nature.  Most people would never consider giving up the convenience of the mobile phone.  Many of our jobs require them.  Family life evolves and we need these objects to navigate many aspects of relationship.  Our relationship with technology, however, is worthy of consideration:  how many hours per day, per week is enough?  The beauty and simplicity of the minimalist design obfuscates the reality behind the iPhone.

The culture that produced the iPhone reveals some of the paradoxes of the human experience: luxury juxtaposed next to poverty.  Wealthy Americans sleep in cardboard boxes, by choice, camped out to buy the latest iteration of a new product– poor, disenfranchised people in America and abroad sleep on the ground or on a cold hard floor out of necessity, and maybe never get enough capital to afford a smartphone.  The paradox of alienation- a product designed to make life easier and relationships more accessible leads many users to a lonely place.  The price tag of $0 for the free upgrade on a cell contract with a major provider doesn’t reflect the human and environmental cost of production of the object.

Consider the blank faces of couples dining, absorbed by artificial light.

Author’s Note:

Bringing into the associative notions of business ethics, ecology, violence, philosophy, and pop culture conjures an image of the iPhone that I hadn’t really understood before now.  Although the piece might arouse some strong emotions, the work is meant to be an object lesson about material culture, not merely a counter industrial polemic.  That might be the biggest concern I have for the work as a whole.  My next thought about this whole web of relationships is this: the iPhone is just one of millions of items produced in this contemporary industrial consumer market.  I synthesized some ideas some on one little corner of this bigger situation.  I don’t mean to vilify Apple, but merely to show something about the culture that produced the artifact.

References

Barboza, David and Charles Duhigg. “In China, Human Costs are built into an iPad.”  The New York Times. 25 January 2012. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/26/business/ieconomy-apples-ipad-and-the-human-costs-for-workers-in-china.html?_r=2&pagewanted=all& Web.  03 December 2014.

Belk, Russell W.  “Extended Self in a Digital World.” Journal of Consumer Research, Vol. 40, No. 3 (October 2013), pp.477-500.  The University of Chicago Press.  http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/671052.  02 October 2014. Web.

Benjamin, Walter.  “The Collector.” The Arcades Project.  Harvard University Press.  1999. Print.

iPhone 4s Tech Specs.  Apple.com.  Apple. http://www.apple.com/lae/iphone-4s/specs/ . 02 October 2014. Web.

“iOS 8.” Apple.com.  Apple.  http://www.apple.com/ios/.  02 October 2014. Web.

Merkel, Jim. Radical Simplicity: Small Footprints on a Finite Earth. Canada: New Society Publishers.    2003.

Prown, David Jules.  Fact or Fiction.  History from Things: Essays on Material Culture. Eds Lubar Steven, and Kingery, W. David.  Smithsonian Institution Press.  Washington. 1993. Print.

Silverman, Matt. “Users For Sale: Has Digital Illiteracy Turned Us Into Social Commodities?”  Mashable.  30 June 2011. http://mashable.com/2011/06/30/users-products-rushkoff/ 02 October 2014. Web.