First published Oct 7, 2016 in ekologue
I recently watched season 1/episode 2 of Baz Luhrmann’s new Netflix original series, The Get Down. A turning point occurs when the character Shaolin Fantastic watches his apartment building burn to the ground, falling victim to the poverty-induced reality that birthed the term “The Bronx is burning” in South Bronx during the 1970s. As his apartment goes up in flames, he is not devastated by his resulting homelessness - he cannot accept the fact that his personal record collection has melted into a pile of useless wax. A record collection that, at the time, reflected a body of music that he may never have the access or ability to acquire again.
The next morning, I came across the Verse interactive story about Michael Thomasson — the Guinness World record holder for the the largest video game collection in the world. The documentary-style short film explores Michael’s emotional struggle as he too is forced to lose his collection (although for monetary gain, rather than senseless crime). The video’s interactivity allows the viewer to “ask” Michael questions, one of which is: “Is game collecting dying?”. Michael answers:
At some point it’s gonna be all digital, just like the music industry has mostly gone, and I’m not gonna be able to go to the store and buy a game. And I realize this passion that I have is gonna be ending. So I don’t want to end it, but time’s gonna move on and technology’s gonna move on and at some point it’s gonna end itself.
Seeing these deep emotional connections to “passions” for tangible media that we now consider artifacts made me wonder: in the digital age, what are we collecting? And how are we manifesting emotional attachments to art and culture? Before the internet, these tangibles represented an opportunity to be the first and possibly the only to own an experience. In Michael’s case, this experience is represented by playing a coveted video game; in Shaolin’s case, a rare record. Now, everyone in the world with a smart device and a wifi connection can stream a game or record the moment it releases. They don’t even have to be friends with Frank Ocean to spy on him as he builds an installation that accompanies his long-awaited album release. However, there are still artists connecting their fans with their art in ways that the internet cannot replicate.
I recently returned from Joshua Tree, California where I traveled to witness Childish Gambino’s live album debut and music festival, Pharos. The concept behind Pharos was to bring dedicated fans into the desert to have first-listen experience of Gambino’s soon-to-be-released third studio album. Viewers stood under a dome of immersive, projection-based visuals as Gambino, his full choir and jam band performed the never-before heard album from start to end. In traveling 2,645 miles to be part of this experiential album release, I recognized my patronage to Gambino’s artistry and my connection to the new music. Those 2,645 miles also helped answer my questions from the week prior. I came to the conclusion that, while the digital world is phasing out tangible media and its memorabilia, collecting unique experiences and the memories they engender is more valuable than ever.