Category: Haunted Media

Emma Johnson

Artist Statement

Bob Ross: The Joy of Reading Children’s Book

            I was only about five months old when Bob Ross died in July of 1995. I would never see him live on TV and he would never produce new shows that I could watch. Yet, there he was on PBS when I was growing up, speaking in his ever-soothing voice with his permed hair and gently smile. The name “Bob Ross” is now ubiquitous with landscape painting and public broadcasting. The official Bob Ross website at www.bobross.com claims that his show, Joy of Painting, is the most recognized and watched TV show on art in history (“About Us”). Through the magic of technology, his reach is more widespread today, 20 years after his death, than it ever was when he was alive. There is a Bob Ross YouTube channel, Twitter account, and two season’s worth of his episodes are on Netflix. Kids continue to grow up watching him as PBS continue to re-run his episodes and they see him on their social media accounts. In this way, no matter how many years have passed since Bob Ross died, he will continue to be the most well-known painter of the 21^st century.

My children’s book, Bob Ross: The Joy of Reading, is designed to introduce kids to the wonderful presence of Bob Ross through a different medium than television. Using images from his shows, quotes from his episodes, and sound recordings, kids can grow up listening to Bob Ross and learn to read using his quotes. You can see his smile, hear his soothing voice, all in a kid-friendly format. All of the content is his own – I am merely the editor that worked to combine different senses together into one Bob Ross book. The true author still is Bob Ross.

The book was made using one particular episode in his Joy of Painting series, “Tranquil Dawn”. This episode combines many of the elements that are iconic in one of Bob Ross’s episodes: a peaceful nature scene, trees, and animals. Screenshots from moments throughout the episode were used to create the pages of the book, which were overlaid with recognizable and classic quotes from Bob Ross that can be applied to situations beyond this one episode. The strongest Bob Ross quotes were captured in sound and played through re-recordable sound modules placed in-between the pages to make it appear as if Bob Ross was speaking to the reader out from the pages of the book. In this way, the reader can follow along with the episode without having the watch it, but also take away larger lessons from Bob Ross beyond the scope of this episode, including ways to view nature, think about making mistakes, and creativity in art. The book is bound together with thick tape and covered by a dust jacket explaining the purpose behind this children’s book and a bit about Bob Ross’s paintings and show.

The use of audio tools in this children’s book are critical parts of maintaining the spirit and essence of Bob Ross over time. This way of preserving Bob Ross’s memory, by capturing his voice to be heard again and again from the pages of a book, was historically seen as a powerful way for the dead to be brought back to life. Jonathan Sterne discusses in his book, The Audible Past, about the power of recordings of dead people beyond their time, stating that “recording would enable transgenerational speech, where any “present” could address itself to almost an infinite range of possible futures (307-308). Bob Ross’s shows contain this omnipresent power – much of what he says can be saved and used again and again to apply to future generations, whether concerning painting or life itself. His phrases have become iconic, and when preserved in a digital audio form, they can live forever and continue coming from beyond the grave to leave their mark on others, even those that were not alive when he died. In addition, the stopping and starting of the audio, as well as occasional random playing and repeating of the audio, contribute to the haunted aspect of the book, where his voice appears to come straight out of the pages and haunts the book itself.

The visual aspects of the book primarily focus on Bob Ross’s image, as well as the images of the Tranquil Dawn painting he was creating in this episode. Blue painter’s tape is used liberally throughout the book, both as a binding to keep the pages of the book together but also to represent his profession as a painter and the important role that painting played his life and continues to play in the lives of the people who watch him and follow his work. In addition, the book jacket serves to collect the whole book together into one cohesive document. A title page is included, as well as a summary of the book on the inside flap, reviews of the book on the back cover, and an about the compiler section on the back flap. These sections all contribute to the overall aesthetic of the book, making it feel real and relatable to the reader.

There is no mention of death in my children’s book – it is not central to the idea and purpose of the book. His work transcends his own lifetime. I was not aware that he was indeed deceased until recently, within the last two years. I thought he had simply retired from working and making shows for PBS, choosing instead to spend his retirement painting in peace. Instead, I learned he died a premature death due to lymphoma at the early age of 52. His show ran for 11 years on PBS, meaning that is has been re-run on PBS for more twice as long as it originally aired for (Hajek). Much of his fame comes from his internet celebrity presence after his death, and his status now as a celebrity aids the proliferation of his shows and ideas around the internet. As Margaret Gibson puts it in her article on mourning in media culture, “some celebrity deaths do resonate in the lives of the individuals in ways that belie simple distinctions between real and fictional, myth and reality, public and private” (418). We choose to idolize our celebrities rather than forget about them, even after death, and that blurs the line between worlds. To those of us who love Bob Ross, we want to keep his spirit alive just as we remember him: in front of an easel, speaking to us about happy little trees, with permed hair that he hated. Talk of his death almost does not seem real, as we are entrenched in his TV show. “But he is right there, of course he isn’t dead”, we might think, representing the way that we can preserve someone at a moment in time forever.

This book preserves Bob Ross in the same moment, a time that we want future generations to remember him in as well. The information that many people actually know about Bob Ross beyond his paintings is limited, and the book is intentionally vague in keeping out personal details about his life. Through this book, Bob Ross is more than a person, he symbolizes an idea – representing the pleasure of nature, the peacefulness of art, the beauty in color. It would distract from the purpose of this book to also discuss his military career, his disease, and his life off camera. The simplicity about how the public remembers him is important in preserving his identity beyond the grave. Bob Ross has one major identity, no matter what he might think about it if he were still alive today. Painting is who he is, and who he will continue to be in the future.

This singular identity is also an important part of the marketing strategy of the children’s book. The landscape paintings, colorful and visually appealing, draw the kid’s attention, while the focus on Bob Ross and his art also attracts the parents. In this way, both the children and the parents are captivated by the book and eager to buy and learn from it. Parents are motived to use it because they want to pass a cultural icon from their generation to their kids, while the children may be intrigued by the colors, art, nature seasons, and animals pictured. Children’s books can often leave long lasting impacts on kids’ future passions, and in this way Bob Ross and his paintings can continue to be perpetuated in popular culture.

The Joy of Reading is haunted because Bob Ross seems to live in its pages, as if he never truly died at all, but was instead preserved in a different media than the one we traditionally call life. However, “haunted” typically carries the connotation of fear, danger, and revenge, which can be seen in many horror movies and novels. Bob Ross, on the other hand, is not presented in the book as someone who wishes to exact revenge on his audience or inspire fear for some sinister purpose. He is there doing what he always does, showing people how painting can cathartic, pleasing, and fun. In the case of this book, “haunting” is not associated with the horror media genre, but instead occurs as a way to continuing passing on his work to future generations.

Netflix and TV, in their own ways, are haunted with the presence of Bob Ross, but the children’s book is able to connect with people in a different way. In a similar idea as Edison’s spirit phone, which he hoped could enable you to directly contact your loved ones beyond the grace, the book makes it feel like Bob Ross is speaking with you directly, rather than addressing a wide TV audience (Zarrelli). This allows for a deeper and more impactful experience for the consumer of the book. In addition, the children’s book will be able to reach people that may not be affected by Bob Ross’s online media presence. In this more technologically driven world, where TV and social media are crowded with gory, dramatic, and visually stunning programs, Bob Ross’s painting programs do not stand out for their intensive program. It could be likely that kids today never watch Bob Ross on TV because there are simply thousands of more engaging shows they could be watching instead. A children’s book allows kids to interact with Bob Ross in a different way than they might otherwise, so Bob Ross can continue to pass his message and his passions on in different ways to more technologically-dependent kids. Then, when they are hooked on Bob Ross because of the book, they can find him on Netflix, YouTube, and the other online media sites that he has become so integrated in.

Works Cited

“About Us.”  Bob Ross Inc. N.p., n.d. Web. 1 Apr. 2017.

Gibson, Margaret. “Death and Mourning in Technologically Mediated Culture.” Health Sociology Review; Abingdon 16.5 (2007): 415–424. Print.

Hajek, Danny. “The Real Bob Ross: Meet The Meticulous Artist Behind Those Happy Trees.” NPR.org. N.p., n.d. Web. 1 Apr. 2017.

Sterne, Jonathan. “A Resonant Tomb.” The Audible Past. Durham: Duke University Press, 2003. Print.

Zarrelli, Natalie. “Dial-a-Ghost on Thomas Edison’s Least Successful Invention: The Spirit Phone.” Atlas Obscura. N.p., 00:00 400AD. Web. 1 Apr. 2017.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9DShZNUNa8&feature=youtu.be

Check out the site here!

Artist’s Statement

Other than a short epilogue in which everyone has gotten married, had children, and is appearing to be living happily ever after, J.K. Rowling gives us little insight into the state of the Wizarding World after Harry Potter defeats Voldemort. As is the case among fans, I imagined a possible future for the universe. In this future, the events of the series are taught in a History of Magic class, and I theorized about the reactions of the muggle born students upon learning about the people who had died fighting to ensure their place in the Wizarding World. Therefore, my Haunted Media Artifact is an in-universe memorial page, The Phoenix Project, created by these muggle born students for those who died fighting Death Eaters in Harry Potter.  In crafting my project, I combined elements of parasocial relationships, online memorial pages, and Internet trolling to reflect the complexities of online grieving.

Civil Rights in Harry Potter

I am currently in the middle of a Harry Potter re-read, and am struck by how integral civil rights are to the overarching plot of the entire series.  Although I struggled to find much scholarship on it, the central conflict of Harry Potter is a fight against racial supremacy.  While the struggle is represented allegorically through pure blood and muggle born witches and wizards, it is clearly speaking to a history of civil rights battles.  In the Harry Potter universe, the slur “mudblood” is meant to denigrate the less privileged in society for their lineage.  Authors, particularly ones as masterful as J.K. Rowling, are deliberate in their every move.  Rowling invented a racial slur for her universe to emphasize that racism operates within it just as it does in the non-magical world.  Voldemort rises to power by demonizing a disadvantaged minority group and asserting his, and his followers’, superiority over them.  Under his rule, muggle borns cannot work in the Wizarding World, have their wands confiscated, and are liable to be jailed.  In this re-read, I have found myself focusing on Hermione’s experience of racism in the Wizarding World, and I have thought a great deal about the experiences of muggle born students in such a hostile environment.

Parasocial Relationships

My project was heavily influenced by the concept of parasocial relationships.  Coined by Horton and Wohl , parasocial relationships are bonds people feel with public figures despite not knowing them personally (215).  While Horton and Wohl’s paper focuses mostly on television personalities, the concept of parasocial relationships has extended far beyond that original limited scope.  These relationships, as we have seen with the amount of beloved celebrities who passed away in 2016, can be quite intense.  In crafting my project, I wanted to draw on the idea of bonds with public figures.  I imagined that in the Wizarding World, muggle born students would feel a particular affinity with those who had died fighting for muggleborn equality, and therefore created a backstory involving four original muggle born characters.  Many of the characters who died in the Second Wizarding War were not famous at the time of their death, but like we have seen with scores of celebrities or public figures, from Bob Ross to Emily Dickinson, fame is frequently achieved posthumously.  In our digital age, parasocial relationships are easier than ever to achieve.  While the internet does not exist in the Wizarding World, and these figures would likely only appear in history textbooks, muggleborn students would have grown up with exposure to the internet.  It is therefore their experiences with forming parasocial internet relationships, not only the importance of muggleborn rights, that make them particularly apt people to create such a project.

I acknowledge that it is probably unusual to form a parasocial relationship posthumously, I think it could be possible, particularly in the Wizarding World, where death operates somewhat differently than it does in ours.  Pictures move in this universe, so it would be easier to understand and connect with someone deceased.  Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape both have talking portraits hung in the Hogwarts castle, allowing students to interact with them in a very life-like manner.

Website Design

In crafting the memorial page, I took some cues from existing online memorial pages, but also endeavored to depart from certain elements.  As Brubaker et al. observed, online memorial pages usually include an obituary component as well as a memorial guestbook (154).  I included both of those elements in my website, with individual biographies for the deceased and a guest book that allowed users to leave messages.  In crafting those messages, I followed the observations Brubaker et al. had made that people who knew the deceased tended to address their comments to them directly, while those who did not know the deceased personally generally addressed the creators of the website (155).  Also, acknowledging that some people do come to online memorial pages simply to wallow in false grief, I added a few inane comments. I also added messages from internet trolls, as they tend to be a common presence on online memorial pages, but I will address those comments in depth later in the statement.

While I did model my page using the general template of online memorial pages, I also wanted to depart from some elements I did not like.  As Graham et al. found in exploring Australian memorial websites, some, such as the popular Heaven Address, contained “Featured” and “Most Visited” profiles (43).  This design struck me as disrespectful and inappropriate.  The idea of competing for online popularity even in death seems almost sacrilegious.  Additionally, I found the world cloud component of the Heaven Address memorial pages as somewhat too silly for my website.  The notion that death, particularly as casualties of war, deserves a certain seriousness drove the design of my website.  I attempted to balance an attractive aesthetic with a degree of solemnity.  While the color palate of Heaven Address is bright, featuring white, yellow, and green, my website is predominantly black with white text and some light red accents.  I chose to emphasize black because it is the traditional color of mourning.  This choice naturally lent itself to white text to make the website as easy to read as possible.  However, in an effort to add visual interest to the page, I added some light red, which looks nice but maintains the seriousness I meant to convey in the site.

The choice of fonts was also very deliberate.  I spent a good deal of time playing around before deciding on which three to use.  All three fonts were deliberately sans serif, because I wanted a minimalist, elegant look to convey solemnity.  For titles, I chose a font called Marzo, a thin, almost spindly font.  I wanted something eye-catching for the titles, but did not feel that playful fonts with curlicues or fun shapes seemed appropriate, so this unusual but simple font seemed like a good middle ground.  For the paragraphs, I chose Avenir Light, which was simply a plain, sans serif font that worked well for bodies of text.  For other elements and accents, I used a font called Lulo Clean.  I did not want all the sans serif fonts to look too similar, so this font was chosen in contrast to Marzo.  While Marzo is thin, Lulo Clean is an all-caps, blocky font, which provided a good visual contrast without being too decorative.

Trolls

            No corner of the Internet is complete without at least a few trolls, and as we have found, memorial pages in particular tend to attract a certain vitriol from anonymous Internet users.  Combined with the fact that this page is commemorating people who died fighting for equality, trolls seemed inevitable.  As Whitney Phillips found, trolls tend to target those whose grief they view as inauthentic.  In general, trolls do not target the families of friends of the deceased, but rather mourners who never knew the deceased and yet still grieve publically.  My memorial page is crafted by those who never knew the deceased, and therefore could be seen by trolls as simply an attention-seeking, tacky, unnecessary online grieving display.  According to Phillips’s research, my website would be the perfect place for trolls.

The anonymity afforded by the website also opens the door for vicious, inflammatory comments.  Haines et al. found that anonymity allows users to feel more comfortable expressing support for questionable or socially undesirable positions or behavior (779-780).  In the real online world, there is no shortage of racist, sexist, homophobic, or otherwise bigoted sentiments, particularly on platforms like Reddit or Tumblr, where one can remain anonymous.   As The Phoenix Project allows anonymous commenting, it seemed in-keeping with online culture to sprinkle in a few pure-blood supremacist comments along with the usual sensationalist trolling.

Conclusion

            As with anything, our conception of death and methods of grieving are changing with the rapid expansion of technology.  The Phoenix Project was meant to integrate several components of that changing landscape.  I focused primarily on the idea of parasocial relationships with the dead, especially in light of the broader social context of the Harry Potter universe.  I was very deliberate in the crafting of this memorial page, and tried to embody some of the best aspects of online culture—the accessibility of information and the ease of communication and community-building—while avoiding those elements—an obsession with popularity and the commercialization of nearly anything—that I find distasteful.  I wanted to depict the potential value of public grieving sites in uniting people and creating a sense of community while still acknowledging the presence of grief-policing trolls. Ultimately, while The Phoenix Project, and those memorialized within it, are entirely fictional, I hope it provides some real insight into how the Internet challenges some of our attitudes surrounding death

Works Cited:

Artist’s Statement

This baby scrapbook is dedicated to children who have been (at least allegedly) murdered by their mothers. This tragic, unimaginable, and reprehensible act, sometimes referred to as “maternal filicide,” is one we rarely discuss outside highly charged debates surrounding recent cases. It is often left untouched by arguments of reason and levelheadedness, given the repulsion by which it is regarded – and with good enough reason, too. I am entirely horrified by what motivates mothers to kill their own children. This project was no easy task, given the amount of research into gruesome cases of maternal filicide and the details surrounding these murders. This book is, in a way, haunted by the memories of these children that were killed, by the details and motivations surrounding the murders that remain unclear, and by the injustice of it all.

I decided to limit my focus to three high-profile cases, so that I can highlight the way in which the cases were treated by the media and processed by the general public. I focused on Caylee Anthony, whose cause of death was reported as undetermined and whose mother, Casey Anthony was tried and found not guilty of her murder. The Casey Anthony trial garnered unprecedented attention across the globe. I included the death of Addison Weaver, a baby who was wrapped in a plastic bag and discarded in the trashcan outside the Delta Gamma Theta sorority house at Muskingum University in Ohio by her mother, Emily Weaver. This was the second case of its kind in the 21^st century at Muskingum University. The mother, Emily Weaver, was found guilty of the murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole. Finally, I included the murders of Noah, John, Paul, Luke, and Mary Yates, all systematically drowned in a bathtub by their mother in their Texas home.

I chose the form and aesthetic of a baby book for this project partially for the shock factor, and partially as a way to comment on the lives and memories that these children could have had had they survived past their infancy or young childhoods. The light pastel colors, soft fonts, patterns, frames, and illustrations are all intended to lull the viewer into a false sense of ease and security – a hauntedness that reminds us what their lives might have been. The photos of the children before they were killed and the photos of the mothers’ mug shots and court proceedings are intentionally juxtaposed against the soft backdrop of the baby book to elicit a sort of cognitive confusion.

The Casey Anthony trial was a national melodrama that captivated audiences all across the United States. Although Anthony was found not guilty of child abuse, manslaughter, and murder (Barnett 2016, 14), this case exemplifies the way in which mothers accused of such an unthinkable crime are represented in popular media. Caylee Marie was reported by her grandmother, Cindy Anthony, approximately a month after she had last seen the child alive. The report set off a massive search for the missing toddler, eventually leading to the discovery of her remains in the woods near her grandparents’ house. Casey claimed that Caylee had been kidnapped by a babysitter, and then switched her story to claim that she had drowned in the family pool and was then buried in the woods by her grandfather, Casey’s dad, George.

After the toddler’s remains were found, however, focus was placed primarily on the activities and demeanor of Casey during the month long period in which her daughter was missing. The media had a field-day covering Casey’s lack of merit as a mother and painted her as a callous, calculating liar. Much of the attention was centered on the drinking, partying, and shopping she was doing, the clothes she was wearing, and the men she was dating while Caylee was missing. During her trial, spectators from all across the country flocked to Orlando, Florida in an attempt to procure one of the highly coveted public seats in the courtroom. One woman in attendance said that Anthony’s “stories are so extreme and fantastic, it’s hard to believe they’re true, but that’s what engrosses people. This case has sex, lies, and videotapes just like on reality TV.” (Barnett 2016, 13).

When a jury of her peers found her not guilty, social media went wild with shock and threats of vigilante justice. The social media coverage of this case allowed journalists and their audiences to interact and to air their grievances and outrage. Facebook groups, posts, and tweets questioned how long Anthony would make it outside of prison before being “taken out” and urged citizens to track her whereabouts and make sure she didn’t “slip into hiding” (Barnett 2016, 14). Social media was an outlet for those who felt invested in the outcome of the case and created the illusion that by engaging via the Internet, a person had acted or contributed constructively to the case. While there was a great deal of vilification of Anthony, there was very little shared on how we might avoid such a tragic case in the future. Over the course of the investigation and trial, Casey Anthony became one of the most nationally prominent villainous celebrities and the token “bad mom.”

Emily Weaver was tried and convicted for giving birth to a baby girl in a sorority house bathroom and then disposing of the baby (who proceeded to die from asphyxiation) in a plastic bag in the trashcan outside. She was sentenced to life in prison without parole because the judge didn’t think she seemed the least bit remorseful. Prosecutors argued that Weaver knew she was pregnant all along and engaged in risky behaviors because she had never intended on keeping the baby. One of the most surreal aspects of this case is that virtually the exact same thing had happened at this university in 2003 when Jennifer Bryant dumped her newborn baby in a campus trash receptacle, pleading guilty to the charges but maintaining that she had thought the baby was stillborn. Bryant was sentenced to three years but served only six months in prison.

Andrea Yates was portrayed as a picture-perfect mother who was mentally troubled and unstable. She attempted suicide twice months after the birth of her fourth child and a few years before the murders. Despite the symptoms of what was later diagnosed as postpartum psychosis, a rare condition that affects approximately 0.1 percent of mothers, Yates’ family never saw her as a threat to her children because they believed she loved them so much (Barnett 2016, 66). Yates, however, saw herself as a terrible mother who was failing to save her children from the temptations of Satan. Sometimes she thought she was possessed by Satan himself and other times she believed she was carrying out a prophecy.

Some accused Yates of being a lying trickster (an all too common trope assigned to women) who was feigning her mental illness in an attempt to get off the hook for her actions. She was initially charged with the crime of which she admitted she had committed and sentenced to life in prison. Upon appeal, however, she was found not guilty by reason of mental insanity and committed to a mental facility where she remains today. Referring to our understanding of the events and the motivation of Yates, journalist Dahlia Lithwick said, “Perhaps it comforts us to believe that anyone who violates the sacred mother-child bond is simply crazy; it would be unimaginable if these mothers were making rational criminal decisions” (Barnett 2016, 71). We label women who kill their children as nutcases, so as to more neatly fit these anomalies in our understanding of what women and mothers should be.

In her chapter on “Woman as Possessed Monster” Creed argues that many horror films explore female monstrousness and the inability of the male order to control women whose perversity is expressed via her rebellious body (Creed 34). As is evidenced by these and other cases of maternal filicide, it is easier for us to understand women who kill their children as monstrous anomalies rather than perhaps the product of a system that rarely provides enough support or acknowledgement for women who struggle with the demands of motherhood.

In “Beyond the Grave: Facebook as a Site for the Expansion of Death and Mourning,” Brubaker et al. discuss how the removal of geographical barriers via social media changes the ways in which people grieve and mourn. They also examine how the social expansion of mourning has changed the dynamics surrounding death. This is especially evident in these cases, where the public – perhaps even from states away, geographically and socially removed from the immediacy of the situation – grieves the children murdered and calls for justice via tweets, comments, and likes.

Tragic stories of women killing their children are nothing new; they date back at least as far as the Greek tragedy Medea. The facts about these real life tragedies are not shared via statistics, however, but shrewdly crafted into human interest stories that inform and explain things in a way that create and reinforce cultural norms. The way we talk about these cases and these women matter. The way they are portrayed by the media matters and affects the general discourse and the norms and values with which we continue to instill upon each new generation of mothers.

Click here to view the baby book

References

Barnett, Barbara. 2016. Motherhood in the Media: Infanticide, Journalism, and the Digital Age. New York: Routledge.

Brubaker, Jed R., Gillian Hayes, & Paul Dourish. 2013. “Beyond the Grave: Facebook as a Site for the Expansion of Death and Mourning.” The Information Society 29: 152-163.

Creed, Barbara. 1993. “Woman as Possessed Monster” In The Monstrous Feminine. London Routledge. 31-42.

In my search for a Haunted Media Project idea I came across a dilemma. I wanted to create something that was surprising in itself, yet was not new to the audience viewing my work. This was hard to do, but I ultimately settled on making a faux social media account. In class we have discussed the various implications that death has on a deceased person’s internet profile, and I wanted to take that a step further. The discussion, both at my table and class wide, led me to believe that Facebook was the social media platform that encompassed the most amount of information regarding a person’s “online” profile. This profile curation stems from pages liked, to comments posted, and even the pictures that are shared. I ended up making a social media platform that attempted to recreate the most basic functions of Facebook, with a focus on death. DeadBook was the outcome.

In its most basic form, DeadBook is a social media site intended for those who have terminal illnesses or are going to die soon. This website focuses on making connections between social media users that are going through a rough patch in their lives, and do not have much time to spare. The name “DeadBook” is an altered version of the name Facebook. This was done on purpose to limit the amount of confusion that any random visitor to the page might experience upon initial interaction. If the website has the name “book” as part of the second half of its full name, it will most likely be somewhat related to Facebook. The “Dead” portion of the name was also done to avoid confusion. If anyone ever encounters a “book” of “dead” people, then it will most likely contain information about the deceased. Likewise, my product showcases those who are near life’s end. The tag line “Going to die soon? Don’t worry, we’re here for you” further develops the comparison between the actual social media site and my product. In my experience, the website that require one to input a mass amount of information make one feel like they are trustworthy and would not cause harm. My tagline exemplifies this recurring trope. The difference between Facebook and DeadBook manifests itself in the content that is shared among the community engaging in its forum.

Upon first visiting the website, one is greeted by the tagline and name of the website. The design is a cool white background composed of differently white colored squares. Explanation for the design choice will be discussed later. The homepage consists of a few announcements made by the company, and the rest is made up of social media profiles that have been created by users. The announcements are meant to further enhance the social media experience that the user is exposed to. Often I am met with new notification from Facebook that details new features, so I saw it appropriate to do the same with my own website. The most important part of the website can be found within the profiles that I created.

These profiles are meant to mock standard Facebook profiles, but in a much darker and somber way. The standard Facebook picture and current location aspect of the user profile is made a part of the DeadBook account, but the surprise factor comes in with the last two portions that make up said profile. The first is “story”, which can mean anything, but I wanted it to represent the person’s journey to their current path of death. Most Instagram or Facebook bios give a condensed version of what represents that profile. It seems appropriate that a death support group social media platform do the same. The second portion takes the taboo topic of death and expands it further by asking the person what their life expectancy is. In many social interactions where one has learned that a person is about to die the first question that may come to mind, but is not primarily asked, is “how long do you have left to live?” This question is considered taboo and inappropriate by some, but its inclusion in my product is one-hundred percent intentional. By destigmatizing this question we can make more users of DeadBook feel more comfortable. If every person who has a social profile is asked how long they have left to live, then no one will feel out of place. Death is common on DeadBook, there is no need to hide it or shun it in any manner. My website throws the taboos related to death out of the window and places it into a very public and easily accessible social sphere. Reflecting on our discussions and observations from the class material, we have seen that there are certain Facebook users that are not fans of the “Remembering” feature. In Megan Garber’s article Enter the Grief Police, we see a societal expression of discomfort with public grieving. She states that the tradition of grief is “in the popular imagination… a sadness to be experienced and carried and borne as silently and as stoically as possible”. DeadBook counteracts this trend by providing a community where those who feel marginalized due to their terminal illnesses will find comfort, and those who do not wish to be witnesses to public grieving can avoid it by not enrolling in the site. Garber’s concern that policing exists is itself non-existent within my product.

When mentioning grieving and my website, it is important to note the intersection between race and grieving. As a latino, I have been told that grieving must occur behind closed doors, as these emotions are not meant for the public sphere. In talking with other minorities about public grieving, I have seen the common trend that, among this community, grieving should occur internally. I wanted to display this dichotomy through the profiles that are featured on my website. Firstly, I wanted to make the profiles diverse in order to represent the fact that death affects people of all colors. When one is dead, it does not matter what race they were when they were alive. I also wanted diversity to make the website seem more inclusive. This inclusivity tells users that everyone is welcome regardless of race. Secondly, I wanted to shine a light on topic of race and grieving. When going through the profiles, users can see that this website has more white profiles than minorities. The minorities are there, but they do not make up the majority of the profiles. The difference is subtle, but if one visits the site multiple times this comparison becomes more evident. This was done to highlight the racial differences that are not often talked about when we discuss the different methods in which people grieve. In my experience, white people tend to be more public about their grief. This would mean that, socially speaking, one would more likely encounter a white profile than one belonging to a person of color. Hopefully, those going through DeadBook see the stark difference and ask “Why are there more white people?”

I would like to reference Sterne’s The Audible Past when explaining the importance of my product. Sterne focuses on the importance of sound recordings and iconography, but I believe that the heart of the argument rests within the ability to explore boundaries. Sterne states that the” unique transformation of the interior to facilitate the functioning of the exterior is one of the defining characteristics of sound recording’s so-called modernity. If the past is, in­ deed, audible, if sounds can haunt us, we are left to find their durability and their meaning in their exteriority” (pg 333). We know that profiles can haunt us, as we have seen with Facebook. However, we do not realize that the ability to revisit the past through sound paved the way for communities, like the one that DeadBook creates, to thrive. I transformed the interior design of a regular social media website in order to make an exterior comment about society’s views on death and terminal illnesses. DeadBook exemplifies the “intersection of cultural forces” that Sterne finds in audio recordings(pg332).

Connor Graham et al. discuss various aspects that are crucial to my product in Gravesites and websites: a comparison of memorialization I would like to start off by saying that DeadBook is not a gravesite completely. If anything, it is an in-between-the-grave site. Symbolism is brought up in this piece as a means to demonstrate the importance that the cross has to death (pg 47). While I do see the validity of the point that is being made, I can also recognize its flaws. The article holds symbolism of the cross as essential to sites that discuss death and the grave, however, DeadBook has no such imagery and achieves the same goal (pg 48). In fact, DeadBook has no imagery besides the use of stock photos that add richness to the content. As a Christian I can see the influences that crosses may have on gravesites, but as the founder of DeadBook I see that it is unnecessary to elicit certain moods/reactions.

The stock photos are purposefully perfect. If one takes a closer look at the pictures, the people in them appear to be content and flawless. These are not descriptions that one would use when describing those who are on/near their deathbed. The photos are meant to represent the standard of beauty that is “required” of social media sites. I say “required” because there is no explicit requirement that one be attractive, but users will always use their best looking picture for a profile. Deadbook wishes to comment on the notion of beauty perpetuated by these platforms in a way that highlights how important physical appearance, or supposed physical appearance,  is. The website is meant to be a support group for those that are dying, why would people feel the need to post good-looking, or presumably old pictures? Because society has deemed this practice as necessary. In order to get attention on your profile you must be attractive/healthy looking or feign the appearance of it. The last thing dying people need to worry about is their physical appearance on a social media website, but Deadbooks shows that this is not the case.

The rest of the features that are seen on the website are done in order to give it validity as a “social media” platform. On Facebook one can change their relationship status and plan events to get together, and these features bring a sense of community to the website. The events and DeadBook dating are included to add depth to both the support system of DeadBook and its validity as a website. I can imagine situations where a romantic encounter was about to unfold, but one of the involved parties holds back because the other is near death. With the dating feature, those who are already looking for a community to accept them can have the opportunity of seeking romantic companionship despite their current health status that might otherwise hold them back. The events feature adds to the shared community feeling that is focused on death, which DeadBook holds as its primary goal.

The Terms and Conditions page was added partially because every legitimate website has a section dedicated to it. The difference between the Terms and Conditions on DeadBook and any other site is that my page displays this aspect publicly. Most social media sites tend to hide the Terms and Condition, or make it hard for an average user to find it. DeadBook does not wish to do that because the page does not have anything to hide. The social media sites that engage in this practice often do so because they are profiting off of the user, through information selling or other implicit actions. The hidden agreement allows these websites to engage in said behaviors without legal repercussions. My website wants the users to know that it will be that trustworthy platform they can access during their time of need. A deathly ill person does not need to be further stressed out that a company could use their information maliciously. My project does not seek to profit off  of the profiles, unlike a Facebook, Twitter, etc. The page as whole, when compared to other social media platforms, makes a statement when part of a dichotomy that analyses similar mediums.

In terms of design, I wanted to create a website that had a calming effect on those who saw it. Clearly, those who are on the brink of death, or know their estimated expiration date are in dire need of some calm in their life. The white triangular background achieves the calming effect that I am aiming for, while adding some complexity to the overall design. I studied the effect of colors in a high school class, and the color white connotes peace and tranquility. I decided against simply white background because I felt like that would be too boring, and would cause the site to look unprofessional. In my encounter with social media platform, I have seen the design pattern emulating an advanced yet simplistic look. The background that I chose says “Hey, we’re here to make you feel at home with our calming yet cool-looking design. Please join us.”

As someone who likes to play devil’s advocate, I see the merit in entertaining opposing viewpoints. I envision critics of DeadBook stating their beliefs that the website will never create the supporting community that it so desperately desires. However, when discussing matters of online communities, I like to refer to Chang-Won Park’s book Emotion, Identity and Death: Morality Across Principles. Throughout Park’s research he has seen the ability of audiences, exposed to death, present itself as “transient, forming loose, short-lived networks around a particular event” (pg 53). However, “in some cases new connections created online can develop into ‘enduring communities’”(pg 53). Park’s extensive research into the field of Grieving and Remembering on the Internet give me hope for the overall product. I see DeadBook being a site where random people offer each other support from time to time without ever really connecting with each other. However, if there is a slim possibility that a “real community”, as described by Park, can be created then I would have succeeded in my goal.

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Sources:

Davies, Douglas J., and Chang-Won Park. Emotion, Identity and Death: Morality across Disciplines. Farnham: Ashgate, 2012. Print.

Garber, Megan. “Enter the Grief Police.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 20 Jan. 2016. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.

Graham, Connor. “Gravesites and Websites: A Comparison of Memorialization.” Visual Studies. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.

Sterne, Jonathan Edward. The Audible Past: Modernity, Technology, and the Cultural History of Sound. N.p.: n.p., 1999. Print.

Please watch this video, which outlines how to get started. Then, read the Instruction Manual & Testimonials.

Artist Statement:

To “The Collective Memory Box” user:

We are glad you are here. Finding ways to cope with the death of a loved one is incredibly difficult, but you have arrived at a special place. “The Collective Memory Box” will take you on a journey through the life of the deceased, letting her legacy live on through the words and stories of others. This box is specifically dedicated to the life of Daisy Louise Jones, who was a sophomore from Glen Ellyn, Illinois majoring in Gender and Sexuality Studies at Davidson College. Daisy touched the lives of many people and her loss was sudden and shocking to her family, friends, and the Davidson College community. Luckily, “The Collective Memory Box” provides the user with a window into some of Daisy’s favorite items and is linked to special memories and stories from the voices of others that can live on in her absence. The use of the term “collective memory” for the title of the product was inspired by the French sociologist Maurice Halbwachs, who “argued that all memory is collective memory because memory depends on social environment” (Rogge and Salmi 15). The voices that are embedded in the audio component of the box create a social environment that shapes individual memories into a coherent collective memory. On the outside of the box, you can find a variety of images and written work, which consist of Daisy’s favorite song lyrics, poems, and biblical verses. Many users consider the outside portion of the box to resemble something that one would find in a scrapbook because its construction is intricate and intentional. One of the most important facets of the outer portion is that it is unfinished — you as the user can add to it as you go through the grieving process. The tangible components of it serve as a point of criticism to the larger issue society faces regarding online accounts becoming extinct or indecipherable over time. In an article entitled, “Cyberspace When You’re Dead,” Rob Walker admits that “Web sites come and go — often vanishing in months, depending on the whims and intentions and attention span of their creators” (Walker 11). This shows that online spaces provide us with a false sense of security in that they could disappear within an instant. In her book entitled, When We are No More: How Digital Memory is Shaping our Future, Abby Smith Rumsey argues that the changes within our digital landscape serve as signs that we to reinvent how we preserve memory. She writes, “The new paradigm of memory is more like a growing garden: Everything we entrust to digital code needs regular tending, refreshing, and periodic migration to make sure it is still alive…” (Rumsey 148). The outside of “The Collective Memory Box” is not subject to the skepticisms Rumsey voices in her book, which allows all of its contents to avoid the risk of becoming unreadable or destroyed.

An important facet of “The Collective Memory Box” is that in order to interact with the contents on the inside, the box must go over the user’s head. This construction was intentional because it forces the user to enter a new world that is separate from her own daily surroundings and experiences. It also blocks out any potential distractions or disruptions that may interfere with the user’s full immersion into the contents of the box. This concept also speaks to the importance of making grief individualized and private. We live in a society that extends postmortem identities into spaces that many people can see and interact with on a daily basis, which actually prevents people from establishing a definite termination to periods of grief and mourning. A book entitled, “Helping Those Experiencing Loss: A Guide to Grieving Resources” explores the definitions of “mourning” and “grief,” which can be applied to this idea: “Mourning is the external part of loss. It is the action we take, the rituals and customs. Grief is the internal part of loss, how we feel” (Grover, Fowler 9). However, our modern technologies blur the distinction between the two terms and bring both facets of bereavement into public spaces. Additionally, the article “Virtual Mourning and Memory Construction on Facebook: Here Are the Terms of Use,” argues that “Facebook’s features have defined the platform as a social space for the development of a collective online memory and digital archive for the individual, thus perpetuating a culture of interdependent connectivity” (McEwen and Sheaffer 65). “The Collective Memory Box” also embraces a collaborative approach (because memory is social), but does so in an effort to make the grieving process more individualized and separate from the external world. Facebook “automatically extends the experiences around death into additional everyday activities over extended periods of time within large social networks” (Brubaker, Hayes, Dourish 158). This shows that our modern technologies have enabled death to become a “social experience negotiated by family, loved ones, and now a large, technologically maintained network of digital peers” (Brubaker, Hayes, Dourish 162). “The Collective Memory Box” pushes back on bringing death into realms such as social media and instead makes a concerted effort to provide the user with a private experience. This enables the user to grieve for her own individual purposes that the outside world cannot see or comment on.

Another distinct component of “The Collective Memory Box” is that the voice of the dead is completely stripped away from the audio immersive experience. Although there exists value and power in the human voice, it makes it more difficult to grieve because many technologies can give you the power to access the voice of the deceased at any time until they become obsolete or are automatically deleted. In an article entitled, “Preserving Voicemails helps Modern Grieving Process” Beth Teitell writes, “If grief has a modern form, mourning the lost voicemail is surely it. The very technology that allows bereaved friends and relatives to feel, if only temporarily, closer to the departed can just as easily sweep away that connection.” “The Collective Memory Box” does not integrate the voice of the deceased into its content in an effort to make death more about the living as opposed to the dead. A man who preserved the voicemails of his deceased mother said he “felt [like] for some reason she’d call me back” (Teitell). This indirectly establishes a level of dependence on the dead that can become unhealthy and addictive components of someone’s grieving process. The creators of “The Collective Memory Box” did not want to give the user any false sense that they were actually talking to the deceased and envisioned the removal of the dead’s voice as a way for the user to cope with death of a loved one through the words of the living.

It is important to recognize that using the human voice as a way to capitalize on grief is something that has infiltrated many parts of society today. Specifically, museums such as the 9/11 Memorial & Museum use the voices of the deceased to curate a memorable and poignant presentation. Towards the beginning of the 9/11 exhibit, the viewer encounters the following artifact: the final recorded words of Brian Sweeney, which the viewer has the option to listen to through a telephone mounted on the exhibit’s wall. He left this message on his wife Julie Sweeney’s phone at 8:59 a.m. on September 11, 2001:

Jules, this is Brian listen, I’m on an airplane that’s been hijacked. If things don’t go well, and it’s not looking good, I just want you to know I absolutely love you, I want you to do good, go have good times, same to my parents and everybody, and I just totally love you, and I’ll see you when you get there. Bye, babe. I hope I call you.”

In his article, “Jules, This is Brian” Aaron MacLean claims, “These words constitute the beginning of a sustained plateau of emotion, which the designers of the museum seem to have anticipated. There are doors through which one can escape the exhibit early — one is right next to the Sweeney recording” (MacLean). The fact that this museum consists of artifacts like Brian’s message and others of a similar power reinforces the idea that institutions like this take advantage of the voice of the deceased and the grief that comes as a byproduct for their own profit. The museum gift shop even sells mugs, t-shirts, scarves, and other souvenirs which have undoubtedly triggered controversies. One critic of the museum, Philip Kennicott, writes in his article, “The 9/11 Memorial Museum Doesn’t Just Display Artifacts, it Ritualizes Grief on a Loop,” “Striving for catharsis and epiphany, they have created an oversized pit of self-pity, patriotic self-glorification and voyeurism, where visitors are allowed to feel personally touched by the deaths of people they didn’t know; where they can revel for a few hours in righteous grievance; where they repeat the pieties of our unresolved, pop-psych ideas about death and remembrance and rebirth and renewal” (Kennicott). In light of these realities, “The Collective Memory Box” works to create content that promotes healthy coping strategies and does not capitalize on the grief of the user. Within the audio component, the user listens to many of Daisy’s close friends and family members respond to questions such as, “What is an object, song, poem, or biblical verse that reminds you of Daisy?”, “What do you admire most about Daisy?” and “What does Daisy give to the world around her?”. The genuine, thoughtful, and raw responses to these questions enable Daisy’s legacy to live on through those who knew her best. Tune into the audio portion below! 

The visual component of “The Collective Memory Box” is a slideshow of panorama images of spaces that Daisy interacted with on the Davidson College campus. The viewer has the option to view these spaces, zoom in, and follow the images as they spans 360 degrees, thereby making them seem real. Just as Daisy’s voice is not embedded in the audio component, she is also not in any of the images. This gives the user the opportunity to see what Daisy saw and experienced in the surroundings that were most dear to her without having an image of her as the focus of the photographs. Some of the images include: her dorm room, a close up of her decorated desk, Turner Eating House, the Oasis in the Chaplain’s Office, and her favorite place, the E.H. Little Library. These images paired with the audio content work to ground the user in the present, as opposed to Daisy’s past life. The speakers in the audio component even use the present tense when talking about Daisy, which gives the user the impression that Daisy still has the power to contribute to the present moment, even though she is gone.

The creators of “The Collective Memory Box” made it a priority to deviate from the newly popularized ways to grieve within social and digital spaces. Instead, we decided to incorporate the social aspect that is a key component of memory to create a product that was dependent on the collaboration of others to tell a narrative about Daisy’s life. The box places you in control of your own grieving process and lets the tangible objects and written work, images, and stories from others transport you to the beautiful life that Daisy lived. We hope that “The Collective Memory Box” can be a source of strength and inspiration for you now and throughout the years to come.

Works Cited

Brubaker, JedR., GillianR. Hayes, and Paul Dourish. “Beyond the Grave: Facebook As a Site for the Expansion of Death and Mourning.” The Information Society 29.3 (2013): 152–163. ACM Digital Library. Web.

Grover, Robert, and Susan G. Fowler. Helping Those Experiencing Loss: A Guide to Grieving Resources. Santa Barbara, Calif: ABC-CLIO, 2011. Print.

Kennicott, Philip. “The 9/11 Memorial Museum Doesn’t Just Display Artifacts, It Ritualizes Grief on a Loop.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 07 June 2014. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.

MacLean, Aaron. “’Jules, This Is Brian’.” Washington Free Beacon. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.

McEwen, Rhonda N., and Kathleen Scheaffer. “Virtual Mourning and Memory Construction on Facebook: Here Are the Terms of Use.” Bulletin of Science, Technology & Society 33.3-4 (2013): 64–75. SAGE Journals. Web.

Rogge, Jörg, and Hannu Salmi. Memory Boxes: An Experimental Approach to Cultural Transfer in History, 1500-2000. Bielefeld: Transcript, 2014. Print.

Rumsey, Abby Smith. When We Are No More: How Digital Memory Is Shaping Our Future. N.p.:n.d. Print.

Teitell, Beth. “If Grief Has a Modern Form, Mourning the Lost Voicemail from a Deceased Loved One Surely Is It – The Boston Globe.” BostonGlobe.com. N.p., 20 Nov. 2013. Web. 05 Apr.2017.

Walker, Rob. “Cyberspace When You’re Dead.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 08 Jan. 2011. Web. 05 Apr. 2017.