The headline on the Daily Beast labeled it Banksy’s greatest trick yet. Apparently everyone who walked by the Central Park stall selling his art are right fools for not purchasing an original Banksy for $60.  The Daily Beast writes,

On his website on Sunday, the artist announced that he had set up a stall along Central Park on Saturday—selling “100% authentic original signed Banksy canvases. For $60 each.” That’s right: Banksy, whose works sell for millions at auction, sold canvases for $60 on the streets of New York. And the most unbelievable part? Almost no one bought them. It was part stunt, part social experiment: If people don’t know they are looking at work from a world-famous artist, do they even care?

I’m not really sure about labeling this a trick.  Humans have since the dawn of time assigned worth to objects, and that worth may even change from person to person.  Someone feeling dehydrated on a hot day may not think twice about shelling out $2 for a bottle of water.  That very same person would balk at paying $2 for that same amount of water at a restaurant.  And the same goes for art: when we love it, when we think it has value, we are willing to pay for it.  And when we are meh about it, or we believe that it isn’t worth the cost, we don’t buy it.

Image: Eadmundo via Flickr

In other words, New Yokers love Banksy when they know it’s a Banksy.  But it seems as if New Yorkers feel pretty meh about his work when his name isn’t clearly attached.  It speaks more to the power of the PR machine — either the informal one created by society at large or by firms.  Names (and reputations) mean something.  Yes, there needs to be some talent in place to get it started, but there is some truth to the SNL sketch where Jon Lovitz’s played Picasso and called his used tissues “art.”  We are way too loose in giving attention and accolades to works of art and performances based on the name attached to the project.  And we overlook way too many great books, songs, and movies because our attention is being dragged towards a select few.

As a social experiment, I’m fairly disappointed in Banksy’s lack of creativity.  Joshua Bell already did this stunt back in 2007, and Bell certainly wasn’t the first to show how art sometimes needs context for the common person to recognize its value.  JK Rowling recently showed us just how much her name means.  When she published a book as Robert Galbraith, she sold about 500 copies.  Within days of the reveal, that number shot up to tens of thousands.  We’re supposed to be red-faced because we didn’t realize we had the ability to read a new book by JK Rowling, but really, what does it say about the work itself without the name attached?  It was the exact same book when it was written by Robert Galbraith as it was when it was written by JK Rowling: not one word changed.  The sales figures tell the story of so many books out there: it was fine; it may have even been fantastic but without a household name or any PR muscle behind it to get it into reader’s hands, it’s going to languish in the shadows.

And that sucks.  That part really really sucks about being an artist of any nature — blogger, musician, actor, author.  You either need a critical mass to find and become smitten with your work, or you need a calculated push behind it.  Once that attention is established, it becomes self-generating even if individual works are praised or panned.  But getting that attention established takes a lot of work.

It’s clear that sometimes we’re told what to love, what to find worth in.  Publishers pay big money for some of their books to feature prominently in bookstores.  It’s not that those books that are on the tables are actually better; they just have publicity dollars behind them.  And sometimes those publicity dollars paired with a fairly decent novel cause a book to skyrocket.  But the scary thing is that often times, that very same book without the publicity behind it would be lost in the pages of Amazon.

Maybe what Banksy’s stunt tells us is that some things that receive attention are really unworthy of our attention just as much as things worthy of our attention slip us by.

I think if all art and performances were anonymous, weighed by their own merit without any ability to follow a single artist, musician, writer, or actor, we’d have a purer system of judging work.  But we know that celebrity and reputation plays an enormous role in how we interact with a piece or determine its value.  So I don’t think there’s anything wrong with people walking on by a stall in Central Park and not purchasing a Banksy because it didn’t grab their fancy.  We’d be better art connoisseurs if we didn’t get so wrapped up in assigning worth based on celebrity.

What do you think?

It is the eighth anniversary of the little Creme de la Creme, and it is fitting that we open it on Pregnancy and Infant Loss awareness day. Words can light a figurative candle. 156 bloggers participated last year. If this is your first time hearing about the project, this post should tell you everything you need to know. If you’ve participated in years past, you know how much fun the list is when its revealed on January 1st. So, I hereby declare the 2013 Creme de la Creme list open.

I know this is loooooong, but please read this whole post before submitting your entry.

If you didn’t read or participate in this list in 2006 or in 2007 or in 2008 or in 2009 or in 2010 or in 2011 or in 2012, the impulse behind this list are the ubiquitous award ceremonies that crawl out of their hiding spaces usually around December or January. Awards are nice — it’s good to honour someone and mark big accomplishments. But we all have a best post tucked into our archives. We all have words that have moved another person or ideas that have kicked off a series of musings. Bloggers are writers, and all of us deserve to be celebrated.

And we’re doing just that.

This is the way it works. If you want to participate, read through your archives from 2013 and choose a favourite post. You can leave all sorts of comments below telling me how fantastic I am, but fill out the form to send in your submission (do not leave it in the comments section — the point of this list is also the surprise of seeing the choices revealed on a single day). If you post your link below, I will delete it. Again, feel free to leave love comments below — in fact, please do leave love comments below — but not your submission for the list. Let’s keep it a surprise until the list is ready to go up.

You can only choose one entry. You cannot be modest. Everyone has a best post. There is no such thing as a boring blog. Even if you don’t think you have any readers because you’ve never received a comment, you have a best post. The one that you felt really good about when you hit publish. The one that would be the post you’d put forward if an editor called you tomorrow and said, “I have this great writing job for you that will pay a million dollars an hour. You just need to submit one blog entry to get this job so we can check your writing style.”

Even if you just found my blog because you read about the Creme de la Creme on another person’s blog, you are not only welcome to submit; you are encouraged. It is the best posts of 2013 for the ALI community and that community includes anyone who writes about infertility, adoption, pregnancy loss, stillbirth, neonatal death, assisted reproduction, pregnancy after infertility or loss, and every related topic — from living child-free after infertility to parenting after infertility. Everyone on the blogroll (or could be on the blogroll) is welcome to participate. Really, you don’t need to be a regular reader of my blog to join in. It’s open to everyone in the ALI blogosphere. I can’t say this in more ways than that. Which means you don’t need to write me a note asking if it’s okay to participate. The answer is yes. Okay?

Actually, it’s not only “yes;” it’s “please do.”

The list will be posted January 1st, and I promise that you will use up a good portion of the beginning of the year reading through the most stunning posts you’ve ever seen. We had 156 posts last year, and I’d really like to top that this year. My goal is all 3000 blogs currently on the blogroll, but barring that, let’s aim for over 200. Which means that not only do you have to participate if you’re reading this, but you need to spread the word and get other bloggers to participate (more on that below). Link to this post, send out a note to other bloggers you like, and suggest favourite posts to bloggers from this past year.

Um… other FAQ-like things:

How many posts can I submit?

You can only submit one. Please don’t submit two and ask me to choose. Submit one.

How will I know that you received my entry?

When you hit submit on the form, you should get a screen telling you that I have my entry. If you don’t see that screen, I don’t have your entry.

I sent in a post last week but I just wrote one that I love more! Can I switch my submission?

The short answer is no. The reason is that I write up the blurbs that appear next to each entry. This takes a lot of time. When you change your post, I have to write another blurb. Therefore, think carefully. But get your post in early so it’s high up on the list. But take your time picking it so you’re positive it’s the one you want on the list. But don’t give this too much thought…

If you just submitted it an hour earlier and realized you sent the wrong link, email me quickly so I can change it. Once I write the blurb, it’s set. I mean, you can pull your blog from the list, but you can’t submit a different link.

How do I know which one is my best?

Think of this list in sort of the same vein as those “Best American Short Story”-type collections except that it’s blog entries and everyone in the blogosphere should be represented with a link. The idea of the creme de la creme is not to put out there “the best” by someone else’s definition of “best.” It’s to put out the entry that means the most to you. Everyone has a best entry from 2013. It’s the one you would cry about if it was ever eaten by your computer. Even if it’s only meaningful to you.

I’m having a lot of trouble choosing my best one.

Why don’t you give a few choices to a friend and get their opinion? Don’t get hung up on the word “best.” It’s more about presenting a small taste of your blog. A lot of people read the list each January and it’s a chance for them to get to know your blog in one post. The goal, of course, is not only to honour every blog, but to also introduce everyone. Think of it like a cocktail party. You certainly think about what you wear, but everything doesn’t hinge on this one outfit.

I want to submit a post about my dog/favourite recipe/vacation in Hawaii. So … er … it’s not about adoption/infertility/loss. Can I? Or I want to submit a post but it has pictures of my baby in it. Do you think this is okay for an IF list?

Well, this list is sort of a pu-pu platter of the ALI community. Therefore, if your post is about your ski trip last winter, it doesn’t really show any emotion, thought, or event flitting through the community. Still, people have submitted off-topic posts in the past. If you have any part of the post that if ALI-related, all the better though.

The second question is a sensitivity one. Personally, I think that babies are part of the community and territory. The reality is that we’re all working towards parenthood or were once working towards parenthood. And children are included in that. I try to always mention in my blurb if it’s about a baby or if there are photos so people are given a heads up before they click over. So, yes, send posts that have photos in it and I will make sure that people know the gist of the post before they click over if they’re in a sensitive space.

I’m a man. Can I participate?

Are you part of the ALI community? Then didn’t you read above? EVERYONE is invited to participate. Male, female, young, old, married, single, gay, straight, everyone everyone everyone.

I’m a hedgehog. Can I participate?

Er … a hedgehog with a blog? An infertile hedgehog with a blog? I guess … I mean … I did say everyone …

I just started my blog in October. Can I participate?

As long as you’ve had one post in 2013, you can participate. Even if you didn’t start your blog until October 2013. Just choose your best from the last two months of the year.

My blog is password protected. Can I participate?

If your blog is password protected and you want to participate, choose your blog entry and create a free blog at Blogger or WordPress and post that single entry. Then send me the link so I can place it on the list. I can’t link to password protected blogs.

When is the deadline for getting in my submission?

To ensure that you’re on the list, please fill out the form by December 15th. No entries will be accepted after 11 pm EST on December 15th.

In the past, the list didn’t close until January, but as of last year, the list will not be updated after it goes up on January 1st. December 15th is the only deadline, and it is a hard deadline. Meaning, no one will be added who hears about this project after December 15th.

Which is why I am asking you, begging you, pleading with you, to spread word now. Tweet it, Facebook it, Pinterest it, blog about it, email about it, talk about it with that random stranger in the fertility clinic waiting room. Spread word now because people will not be able to add themselves after December 15th.

Can you post another link to the form right now because I’ve decided to submit.

Sure, here’s another link to the form. Just fill it out and hit send and it will go into the Creme de la Creme spreadsheet.

If you don’t want to participate, do nothing. With the Creme de la Creme list, I never add a blog or highlight a post unless the author has sent it to me. Therefore, no hurt feelings. If your post isn’t on the list, it’s because you haven’t sent one.

Spread the word with the following button on a post or your sidebar to encourage others to send a link:

The code for adding the link to your blog can be found here. You can also use the social media buttons at the bottom of the post.

Everyone has a best post. It is your personal best. It is not best by any other standard. Stop comparing yourself. Stop feeling shy. Stop thinking it’s immodest to toot your own horn when I’ve told you to toot your own horn. Start reading through your archives. Reflect on the year. And then send me a link for the list.

Wheeeew. Sorry about that last part. But everyone in the blogosphere should be represented and honoured.

Back when we were in the throes of treatments for the first time, when I imagined myself a parent, it was usually in a state of new motherhood with an infant sleeping in a stroller.  I didn’t picture reality: the squalling baby refusing to sleep, or the spit-up in my hair, or the curling up like a comma on the top step of the basement stairs and crying hysterically due to sleep deprivation.  Who the hell would sink a needle into their stomach if they didn’t focus on all the good things? (A side note: in my experience, the good things outweigh the bad things at least 6 : 1 overall.)

If I thought about things beyond those early months, it was usually how much the kids would love what I love.  Of course they’d want to sit around and read books all day long.  They’d be willing travel companions and consume vast quantities of chocolate with me.  And sure, in the back of my head, I knew that they’d probably introduce me to a few things or have some interests outside of mine.  But I didn’t think about how much I would learn through my kids; because of my kids.  If I thought about knowledge at all, it only flowed in one direction; from my brain to theirs.  Certainly, by the middle of the elementary school years, this isn’t the case.

And nothing prepared me for my status of Geek Immigrant amongst Geek Native children.

Imagine something you know nothing about.  Maybe it’s quantum mechanics.  And let’s say you’re fairly happy in your work as a cake decorator.  But one day your boss comes up to you as you’re putting the finishing touches on a wedding cake and informs you in a very happy voice that he just loves quantum mechanics and from now on, that’s what we’re doing at the bakery.  We’re just going to work on creating a unified field theory instead of decorating cakes.  So… you know… study up!

That’s how it feels with the twins love of computers. We’re trucking along, enjoying all sort of activities that I feel comfortable leading and then bam — they want to explore something I know nothing about.  Not only do I not know anything about computers beyond the basics of word processing and surfing the Web, but they seem to grasp ideas at a much greater speed and intuitively navigate new technology the moment they pick it up.  A case in point: while I was still trying to turn the iPad on, they had already skated through three different apps.

Part of me is a little jealous.  The reality is that it goes much deeper than digital native vs. digital immigrant when it comes to a lot of  middle-aged women.  We are all digital immigrants of a sort, the technology commonplace today (smart phones, tablets, computers) simply not around while we were growing up.  We’ve had to learn them as they’ve come out, whereas kids today are born into them.  My kids don’t know a world without computers.

But while it’s cool for all kids to be geeky kids these days — there are no gender norms when it comes to using smart phones or playing video games — it certainly wasn’t encouraged to be a geeky girl when I was growing up in the 70s and 80s.  And that is why I think I’m a Geek Immigrant today.  I still feel more than a little shy and unsure about delving into things mechanical; apologize for not knowing information when I need to speak to people more knowledgeable, and rely way too heavily on others rather than trying things myself when it comes to new technology.  I think if society had encouraged my geekiness, I would be having a very different experience with the digital revolution.  I would be throwing myself into it with my whole being, instead of tentatively skirting the edges and wishing I could be in the center.

Being a Geek Native means that from day one, you embrace your passions no matter how fringe those passions may be.  Being a Geek Immigrant means learning to stop caring so much about what others think of your passions and dive into them in a full body belly flop.  I not only need to learn a lot in order to aide the kids in what they want to do, but I need to get a different mindset.  I need to see the possibilities in front of me, not just feel overwhelmed by how much I need to learn.

I need to learn a lot in order to enable the Wolvog to do what he wants to do.  I had to learn how to code an image map so I could teach him how to code an image map when he got it in his head that he wanted an image map on the front page of his website. (Backup: I had to learn how to self-host a site so I could teach him how to self-host a site when he announced that he wanted his own website.)  I’ve had to stay one step ahead with his robot obsession, learning how to construct them and program them.  Most of the time, he shoots way ahead of me and has to come backwards and help me out.  But I get to be a geek through him.

I get to be a geek with the ChickieNob, who is leaps and bounds ahead of me in manipulating images on the computer.  She skates through Photoshop, knowledge courtesy of a computerized art class over the summer.  She’s taught me how to play games on the iPad, explaining slowly what she somehow intuitively knows about the gyroscope that shifts the movement on the screen.

If it’s important to them, then I want it to be important to me.  The best way to understand their world is to dive in.  So computers it is.

I’ve been putting together a series of guides for GeekDad on being a Geek Immigrant with Geek Native children.  It would be very different if Josh or I had a background in engineering; if we worked in computer science or, let’s face it, any sort of science at all.  But we don’t.  We’re both writers.  And while our kids love to write, they aren’t satiated just with the information we readily have at our fingertips.  They want to learn all sorts of stuff we don’t know.  So we’re learning it too so we can turn around and teach.  I’m now becoming proficient in the computer language Python and write posts in HTML without the WYSIWYG editor.  Baby steps.

I’m glad the twins are having geeky childhoods if a geeky childhood is what they want.  Just to be clear, I don’t feel sad that I squelched my geekiness a long time ago.  I don’t mind being a Geek Immigrant, especially since I have good native tour guides traveling with me.  I think late life geekiness is a special kind of geekiness, sort of like converted Jews or learning Italian at 40.  You see the religion or language in a different way than a native, marvel at things others barely notice.

I didn’t flex my geek muscles as a child.  But I’m certainly flexing them now.  Geek Immigrants unite!

Yes, the Wolvog’s dislike of iOS7 continues to this day.  Sometimes he’ll go a few days without mentioning it, but then I’ll be tucking him into bed and he’ll mournfully tell me that he misses his old operating system.  He has spent a considerable amount of time Googling, “how to go back to iOS6.”  I, admittedly, have also spent way too much time Googling that too. (Short answer, that door is closed.)  I wrote the post below for GeekDad about his feelings toward the new operating system (plus a few extra thoughts for you guys).

Image: Karlis Dambrans via Flickr

The Wolvog has a scorching case of Uploaders Remorse, that sinking feeling that comes after you’ve downloaded an app and wish you hadn’t, or upgraded your software after being prompted by an update only to discover that your device doesn’t work as well as before.

He’s usually the type who clicks first and thinks second, and he was champing at the bit to upgrade to iOS7.  “Let’s wait,” I told him.  “Let’s research it a bit; see what people think about the new operating system.” I am the other type of person.  I think first for a loooooooooooooong time and click second.  I drag my heels with every download.  We read a few posts, and I was unconvinced that I’d like new software.

“Let’s try it out in the store,” I suggested.  He waited impatiently for a day to roll around where a trip to the Apple store worked with our schedule.  I didn’t love the new operating system once I had a chance to play with it on a sample device, and I told him that I was going to wait a bit longer to switch over.  I knew I would need to switch at some point; but I was going to wait to see if later versions of the software addressed the issues I had with the new operating system.

In the meantime, he upgraded his software.

He used his iPod for a moment and then set it aside.  He went to read on the sofa, which seemed odd considering how long he begged to upgrade the software, and I went upstairs to work.  An hour later, he came into my room, his lip quivering.  “I hate the new operating system.”  He could get used to the new look, the new set-up, but he couldn’t get accustomed to a new sound.  Siri’s voice had changed ever so slightly; it was less robotic, less hesitant.  The fluidity of sound made him feel as if it wasn’t his Siri anyone.

[It turns out it wasn’t his imagination.  When Susan Bennett stepped forward last week to claim ownership over old Siri’s voice, it was also reported that, “Alas, Bennett’s reign as Siri is coming to an end. Apple’s new mobile operating system, iOS 7, features new Siri voices, according to CNN.”]

He instantly wanted to go back to the old operating system.

We looked into downgrading and discovered it was too late.  The upgrade was a one-way ticket at that point, and he was stuck with the new operating system.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that his iPod was forever stuck with an imposter Siri.  He curled up on the floor with my phone and spoke to his old friend, asking her to tell him a story and then crying whenever she spoke.

It was as if a corporation had snatched away his imaginary friend.  An imaginary friend who happened to be a middle-aged voice talent living in Georgia, but an imaginary friend nonetheless.

I couldn’t laugh at it because I think it’s sweet that he regards programs as something more than pages of code.

For the Wolvog, programs are like a well-loved pet; the good ones respond with interaction (like a purr accompanying a scratch behind the ears).  Siri wasn’t just a computerized voice, scanning a database in order to speak search results.  She was an anthropomorphized program that he loved spending time with, trying to figure out how far the software could go.  Plus our family has gone through this once before with Clippy.  There were huge tears when he discovered that Microsoft knocked off his office assistant friend in newer versions of Word.  Maybe if we all looked at programs as fuzzy creatures that can enhance our lives by taking our direction, we would be less freaked out by the idea of diving into code.

He loves programs — especially programs with human-like qualities — in the same way that I love fictional characters; enough so to become a fiction writer as my job.  I think whenever you spend enough time with something — whether it is a novel or a program — you begin to feel a fondness toward the creation.  I don’t think we’ve ever been in danger of him believing that a program is real, but that doesn’t mean that his heart isn’t at risk.  It is since he falls in love with code, and he falls hard.  Whether it’s the tiny programs we’re currently writing together in Python or the well-established programs of Clippy or Siri, the boy cares.  He loves programs — foibles and all — and wants them to remain as a constant.  Caring brings huge rewards, but it also means that sometimes you get your heart broken.

Like when Apple changes your friend.

He won’t remain sad forever.  I’m basing this on the fact that while he still keeps a little drawing of Clippy that its creator, Kevan Atteberry, sent him, life has moved on.  He will one day be fine with the new Siri, even if he still goes back and listens to old recordings he’s made of the original Siri.

What this has done is make him less trigger happy for the next upgrade. He’ll think long and hard before he clicks on updates, figuring out how deeply the changes will affect him. He may trail a bit behind his friends in having the latest software, but he’ll be ultimately more at peace with each change by easing into it. That’s what people who see programs as more than lines of code need to do.

Are you an early adopter of new software upgrades?  Do you like to update your software the moment the option becomes available, or do you ease into change, reading up on the new system (or trying it out) before downloading?

Image: William Warby via Flickr

I saw this on Facebook and cracked up (mostly because it was so true — I would run off screaming never to be seen again) and decided to do a blog version.  This is how it works.  Take the categories below.  Open your blog.  Look at the first comment on each of your last 10 posts.  Fill in one name per category (keeping the order of most recent post to 10 posts ago) and link their name to their blog.  Then hit publish.  If you have a post without a comment, skip to the next one.  And then chide your readers for screwing up your meme: obviously, they need to step it up and leave more comments.

So, in honour of every horror movie made in the 80s:

1. Decides the creepy house is safe. (Kathy. You totally know you would do this.  ‘Fess up.)
2. Screams like a Banshee. (Pepper!  I wish you had a blog!)
3. Scares you as a joke. (Mrs. Spock.  Yup.)
4. Goes into the woods and gets killed. (Kate, who is blogless but often participates on DYDT posts.  Kate, I am so sorry.)
5. First to go insane. (Non Sequitur Chica.  You can join Pepper in screaming.)
6. Murdered saving someone. (Katherine A.  I am so sorry, sweetie.)
7. Has your back no matter what jumps out. (Heather.  And thank you for having my back.)
8. Has a solid survivor plan no one listens. (Mrs. Spock.  I’m glad you have that sound plan since you were joking earlier in the film.)
9. Runs off screaming never to be seen again. (Karen.  It’s okay since I’m running off too.)
10. Is the real killer. (Rach!  Why are you killing us?)

Feel free to try to defend yourself or your friends in the comment section from what they would obviously be doing if they were randomly assigned to be in a horror movie.