Paper I wrote in the fall and reread today and liked
MC 170.5
Paper #1, Topic #1
Due 10/20/05
To study television as a medium, or a method of communication – artistic, commercial, and otherwise – it is necessary to specify what the notion of television as a medium describes. Historically, when medium specificity is mentioned in correlation to television, it is usually as a reference to the differences between film and television. Much effort, such as that of John Ellis(1), has been spent to detail the technical and contextual differences between film and television, in order to legitimize television studies as a separate genre of media critique, apart from film studies. Yet as time passes and technology grows, this line drawn in the sand is becoming less and less well-defined. Today it is commonplace to watch a “film” in a living room on a standard rear-projection, 23” television, having rented it on DVD, or even receiving its broadcast over cable; it is also not uncommon to watch “television” projected onto a screen, in a sound-foiled and darkened home-theater, without commercial interruptions or even the immediacy of a live broadcast, having saved and reorganized the selected programming using a TiVo’s hard-drive. Even film itself within the so-called film industry is losing popularity as a legitimate and economic medium, with the advent of high-definition video. Televisions, riding this wave, are rapidly becoming able to produce an image and sound not only comparable, but in some cases better than the image projected in a cinema. Thus, despite all the critical work of keeping them separated, the mediums of film and television are now inextricably formally linked to one another in terms of both equipment and method of production, distribution and consumption. This, of course, affects the definition of television as a specific technological medium.
It is also important to note that the context of television is changing along with its technology. For instance, the realm of computers and television are also converging today. It is possible now to legally download television programs off the internet the day after they have been first broadcast, transfer them to an iPod, and then play them over and over again, in any place at any time. It is also important to note that the same cable that provides television flow now provides internet service as well. It is a small step to the total convergence of the media, as computers are becoming more central in the home, and televisions are becoming indistinguishable from monitors.
Yet the question of exactly what television is, and how it should be considered critically has never been quite clearly answered. This is due to the consumer-oriented, and therefore innovation-driven nature of television, as consumerism is driven by a never-ending desire for the new. Whereas the actual technology of printing, distributing, and displaying a “true” film (something which is less individual consumer-oriented, and more mass spectacle-oriented) has not changed much since the inceptions of sound and color, the technology of the television is in a constant flux, which in fact readily mirrors the idea of televisual flow. Flow is based on the consumerism of television and therefore it gives viewers choices of innovation “horizontally” and “vertically”(2) – over time and across channels, like the readout of TV Guide (which is now, in fact, its own channel). The flux of television technology is like a larger version of this flow, because it also has a “vertical” axis – the different styles of television technology, from satellite On-Demand on a plasma screen to airwave broadcast on a portable hand-held television with a black and white 4” screen – and a “horizontal” axis – the change of these technologies over the course of time. This flux of television technology even replicates the heterogeneous yet somehow homogenous sense of flow, in that each increment horizontally or vertically can indicate a large change in content or viewing style, but somehow the whole is linked under the total genre of television, and whether watching on the train or in the kitchen, in Times Square, or in orbit, the audience for some reason does not question the validity that what they are watching is actually “television,” just as if all these technologies were contained “within the set.”
Yet the flux of these technologies presents a massive problem for the television-media critic, which is the delineation of the “text” to be analyzed. Ellis states that “a televisual text [is] a segment of the televisual flow, whether it be an individual program, a commercial, a newscast, or an entire evening’s viewing.”(3) McLuhan, on the other hand, believes that “the medium is the message,”(4) whereby he means that the true “text” to be analyzed is that of the actual relation of the human to the equipment of the medium. The difference between these positions is the difference between the flow and the flux of television technology. Yet both of these viewpoints offer an extremely blurry, and ultimately hopeless form of specificity. The idea of segmenting either the flow or the flux of television into discretely analyzable “texts” is impossible, because the trajectory of television is convergence. Television as a category subsumes so much material that the differences between it all fade away, both for viewers – and for critical analysis. Just as Ellis’ “televisual texts” intrinsically reference each other and interrelate “horizontally” and “vertically” – whether overtly and/or unconsciously – McLuhan’s technological texts – what one might call the difference between a high-definition plasma screen on the wall and a fuzzy “boob tube” on the floor – are never discrete objects, as they also intrinsically reference each other “horizontally” and “vertically,” whether overtly or unconsciously. Furthermore, basing the outline of a text on the segmentation of the aspect of production (i.e. different “shows” have different casts and writers, and are therefore different “texts”), as opposed to basing it on the aspect of reception, disregards the fact that television is actually conceived of and produced as a whole, in flow and flux.
On the other hand, it is impossible to analyze television-media without some sort of textual reference to form and content. In this regard, actually, both Ellis and McLuhan share an insightful, if hidden argument – which is that the discretion of a text depends on the relation of the audience to the media. The same holds true for a cinematic film: the text begins and ends with the arrival and departure of the audience. In that sense, these two critics are right in assuming that the text is to be found more in the effect on the audience than in the script of the television show. However, television differs from the cinematic film, because the existence of the audience does not bookend the display of the production, and thus, the production is not conceived of in that sense. Television viewing is intermittent with display of production – in other words, they do not depend so strongly on one another. The question is: If a television is on, and no-one is around to watch, does it produce a text? The answer is not straightforward. As far as a televisual text might be graspable and understood as a discrete element, it depends on the specific relation of production, distribution/display, and reception, all of which are multifarious and nebulous factors.
Jane Feuer makes an important point when she writes, “The ontology of the television image [read: televisual text] thus consists in movement, process, ‘liveness’ and presence.”(5) Of course it is impossible to grasp a flowing stream; all one can really do is get wet. In much the same way, the present state of television is already the past. The constant state of televisual consumption – and, thus, a constant desire for the new –precludes a firm coherence of a text. Whereas cinematic film is static, solid, and archived, television is mobile, fluid, and insatiable. The point is that television is not self-contained, just as mathematical axes are never-ending. The idea of a text is a fixed document that will never be rewritten. Unfortunately for critical analysis, that is the job of television: to incessantly re-write the future (both “horizontally” and “vertically”) as the present moment.
1 Ellis, 1982, p. 127
2 Butler, 1994, p.4
3 Ellis, 1994, p.7
4 McLuhan, 1964, p.23
5 Feuer, 1983, p.13
Paper #1, Topic #1
Due 10/20/05
To study television as a medium, or a method of communication – artistic, commercial, and otherwise – it is necessary to specify what the notion of television as a medium describes. Historically, when medium specificity is mentioned in correlation to television, it is usually as a reference to the differences between film and television. Much effort, such as that of John Ellis(1), has been spent to detail the technical and contextual differences between film and television, in order to legitimize television studies as a separate genre of media critique, apart from film studies. Yet as time passes and technology grows, this line drawn in the sand is becoming less and less well-defined. Today it is commonplace to watch a “film” in a living room on a standard rear-projection, 23” television, having rented it on DVD, or even receiving its broadcast over cable; it is also not uncommon to watch “television” projected onto a screen, in a sound-foiled and darkened home-theater, without commercial interruptions or even the immediacy of a live broadcast, having saved and reorganized the selected programming using a TiVo’s hard-drive. Even film itself within the so-called film industry is losing popularity as a legitimate and economic medium, with the advent of high-definition video. Televisions, riding this wave, are rapidly becoming able to produce an image and sound not only comparable, but in some cases better than the image projected in a cinema. Thus, despite all the critical work of keeping them separated, the mediums of film and television are now inextricably formally linked to one another in terms of both equipment and method of production, distribution and consumption. This, of course, affects the definition of television as a specific technological medium.
It is also important to note that the context of television is changing along with its technology. For instance, the realm of computers and television are also converging today. It is possible now to legally download television programs off the internet the day after they have been first broadcast, transfer them to an iPod, and then play them over and over again, in any place at any time. It is also important to note that the same cable that provides television flow now provides internet service as well. It is a small step to the total convergence of the media, as computers are becoming more central in the home, and televisions are becoming indistinguishable from monitors.
Yet the question of exactly what television is, and how it should be considered critically has never been quite clearly answered. This is due to the consumer-oriented, and therefore innovation-driven nature of television, as consumerism is driven by a never-ending desire for the new. Whereas the actual technology of printing, distributing, and displaying a “true” film (something which is less individual consumer-oriented, and more mass spectacle-oriented) has not changed much since the inceptions of sound and color, the technology of the television is in a constant flux, which in fact readily mirrors the idea of televisual flow. Flow is based on the consumerism of television and therefore it gives viewers choices of innovation “horizontally” and “vertically”(2) – over time and across channels, like the readout of TV Guide (which is now, in fact, its own channel). The flux of television technology is like a larger version of this flow, because it also has a “vertical” axis – the different styles of television technology, from satellite On-Demand on a plasma screen to airwave broadcast on a portable hand-held television with a black and white 4” screen – and a “horizontal” axis – the change of these technologies over the course of time. This flux of television technology even replicates the heterogeneous yet somehow homogenous sense of flow, in that each increment horizontally or vertically can indicate a large change in content or viewing style, but somehow the whole is linked under the total genre of television, and whether watching on the train or in the kitchen, in Times Square, or in orbit, the audience for some reason does not question the validity that what they are watching is actually “television,” just as if all these technologies were contained “within the set.”
Yet the flux of these technologies presents a massive problem for the television-media critic, which is the delineation of the “text” to be analyzed. Ellis states that “a televisual text [is] a segment of the televisual flow, whether it be an individual program, a commercial, a newscast, or an entire evening’s viewing.”(3) McLuhan, on the other hand, believes that “the medium is the message,”(4) whereby he means that the true “text” to be analyzed is that of the actual relation of the human to the equipment of the medium. The difference between these positions is the difference between the flow and the flux of television technology. Yet both of these viewpoints offer an extremely blurry, and ultimately hopeless form of specificity. The idea of segmenting either the flow or the flux of television into discretely analyzable “texts” is impossible, because the trajectory of television is convergence. Television as a category subsumes so much material that the differences between it all fade away, both for viewers – and for critical analysis. Just as Ellis’ “televisual texts” intrinsically reference each other and interrelate “horizontally” and “vertically” – whether overtly and/or unconsciously – McLuhan’s technological texts – what one might call the difference between a high-definition plasma screen on the wall and a fuzzy “boob tube” on the floor – are never discrete objects, as they also intrinsically reference each other “horizontally” and “vertically,” whether overtly or unconsciously. Furthermore, basing the outline of a text on the segmentation of the aspect of production (i.e. different “shows” have different casts and writers, and are therefore different “texts”), as opposed to basing it on the aspect of reception, disregards the fact that television is actually conceived of and produced as a whole, in flow and flux.
On the other hand, it is impossible to analyze television-media without some sort of textual reference to form and content. In this regard, actually, both Ellis and McLuhan share an insightful, if hidden argument – which is that the discretion of a text depends on the relation of the audience to the media. The same holds true for a cinematic film: the text begins and ends with the arrival and departure of the audience. In that sense, these two critics are right in assuming that the text is to be found more in the effect on the audience than in the script of the television show. However, television differs from the cinematic film, because the existence of the audience does not bookend the display of the production, and thus, the production is not conceived of in that sense. Television viewing is intermittent with display of production – in other words, they do not depend so strongly on one another. The question is: If a television is on, and no-one is around to watch, does it produce a text? The answer is not straightforward. As far as a televisual text might be graspable and understood as a discrete element, it depends on the specific relation of production, distribution/display, and reception, all of which are multifarious and nebulous factors.
Jane Feuer makes an important point when she writes, “The ontology of the television image [read: televisual text] thus consists in movement, process, ‘liveness’ and presence.”(5) Of course it is impossible to grasp a flowing stream; all one can really do is get wet. In much the same way, the present state of television is already the past. The constant state of televisual consumption – and, thus, a constant desire for the new –precludes a firm coherence of a text. Whereas cinematic film is static, solid, and archived, television is mobile, fluid, and insatiable. The point is that television is not self-contained, just as mathematical axes are never-ending. The idea of a text is a fixed document that will never be rewritten. Unfortunately for critical analysis, that is the job of television: to incessantly re-write the future (both “horizontally” and “vertically”) as the present moment.
1 Ellis, 1982, p. 127
2 Butler, 1994, p.4
3 Ellis, 1994, p.7
4 McLuhan, 1964, p.23
5 Feuer, 1983, p.13
posted by Sturgeon General at 3:15 PM
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