Are Two Heads Better Than One?

There is a common belief that two heads are better than one-- that multiple perspectives and opinions culminate in something excellent, or at least something better than before. This idea of sharing and forging ideas is nothing new, but as of recently, can be seen in a new application-- mass collaboration on a macro scale and in a virtual world. Men, women, doctors, teachers, students-- anyone with access to a computer-- can share, correlate, and improve existing information and data through online wiki-software. Regardless of the mediocre information that may surface on such forums and outlets, this process, this exchange of information and knowledge, is ultimately a positive and creative force, and one that should perpetuate improvements in fields of science, medicine, and technology.

But what about the arts?

Initially, I was skeptical that such shared artistic collaboration could produce something great. In a world where shared thoughts and ideas can lead to accusations of copyright infringement, plagiarism, and exploitation, it seemed to me that mass collaboration was not meant for writers, musicians, or artists because it might blur the line between "just collaborating" and co-authoring. Shouldn't that matter? To whom does the credit and accolades go?

But lest you forget, art is steeped in the tradition of sharing, borrowing, collaborating, and bending rules. My mind instantly returns to English lectures on Eliot's "The Wasteland." Not only did this poem allude to (or borrow and steam from) the Bible, countless pieces of literature, parables, songs, and history, but without Eliot's international collaboration with his friend and colleague Ezra Pound, this remarkable perspective on modernity would not be the same. No doubt "The Wasteland" would still be incredible (and still as difficult to interpret), but would it be as great?

Of course, this collaboration between literary masters is not the mass collaboration on the macro scale of modern, well post-modern, wikis and online forums-- but it was certainly massive, marking, and perhaps defining, the modernist movement.

And to whom does the credit go? Eliot takes the prize, but Ezra got a pretty awesome inscription at the beginning of the poem: "For Ezra Pound il miglior fabbro." Look it up.

Pound is famously remembered for his thoughts on modernism in the beginning of the 20th century: "Make it new." Make it new, make it better. Isn't that what (mass) collaboration is all about? It should be.

The World At My Fingertips

There is something to be said for having the world at my fingertips. In a word, immediacy.

Courtesy of an incredible network of wires and fiber-optic cables more commonly known as the Internet, I can look up the capital of Mozambique (Maputo, incidentally), the lyrics to that Steely Dan song stuck in my head, and a recipe for Bavarian-style Kaesespaetzle. Simultaneously, I can also email my brother in Manhattan, Google chat with my boyfriend across Adelphi Road while he finishes (or attempts to finish) his Capstone homework, and Skype my friend studying abroad in Rome.

Timezones, interstates, oceans-- be damned!

It's absurd-- with just one mouseclick on the Mozilla button on my computer's taskbar, I can interact, participate, and experience life on all continents, in all languages, and from so many different vantage points without my passport. Indeed, the world at my fingertips is flat; more flat than Columbus and company ever imagined.

This infinite ability to access the world is not only absurd, but it's so incredible and advantageous... Maybe too incredible? Too advantageous? Is there such a thing? (There usually is, right?) I have to ask myself-- where's the catch?

I have to admit, I'm pretty old-school. I prefer listening to music played from a turntable than from earbuds-- that same Steely Dan song sounds ten times better, at least, on vinyl than it does coming out of my computer. I read books, real books, not scanned editions found on Amazon's new Kindle, whatever that is-- Victor Hugo did not write Les Miserables to be read on a screen! The Baltimore Sun and the Baltimore Examiner both disappoint, a lot, but there's something to be said for the smell of fresh ink and the touch of gritty paper.

I like things real, as they were intended. (Of course, this begs the question, why am I writing a blog instead of a column. I direct you to my professor... it's the best excuse I have. Besides, my printer is out of ink and I don't have access to a Gutenberg printing press.)

Like I said, though, I like things real. I can figure out the lyrics to that Steely Dan song by listening to it-- and isn't that more enjoyable anyway? Looking up that German recipe online is easy, but reading about the origins of the recipe in my neighbor's twenty-year-old cookbook is much more fascinating. And while emailing, Google chatting, and Skyping my friends and family online might be quick, cheap, and practical, a real conversation, whether face-to-face or over the phone, is so much more personal and significant.

Having the world at my fingertips, well, technology, might offer me an immediacy that real things can't, but at a great cost-- intimacy.

So what's an oldschool girl like me to do? Compromise, I guess. I will Skype my friend in Rome (who wouldn't, it's free), but I will pay the 42 cents postage to write my grandmother who prefers my cursive to the computer's Helvetica.

Oh the joys of democracy and modernity-- I've got choices and I intend to use them. (I am woman, here me roar? No, not quite.)



(Seriously, though, I implore that you read real books; masterpieces weren't meant for 3x3 inch screens. Go check out Amazon's predecessor, the local library.)