Priyal Mehta is our speaker this month and we are back LIVE at ATÖLYE. Seats are very limited so sign up soon.

https://creativemornings.com/talks/priyal-mehta

Me... Me... Me... — michael r. ogden teacher, scholar, storyteller I’m a mid-century Baby-Boomer myself, but to anyone within “year-shot” of Gen-X (or Gen-Y, or even Gen-Z) the emojis in the title are self-evident. By which I mean, we use them all the time – almost by reflex – as we scroll through our social media networks “friending,” “liking,” and “caring” as we go without so much as a second thought or deep read into the posting. Each of these emojis (among others) are how we now “connect” and acknowledge the existence of the person on the receiving end of our thumb-clicks. Each response is a dopamine hit of recognition, of validation that they are not invisible. For those of you that may not have read my past musings on Creative Mornings “themes” (e.g., ripple & dare), I grew up on a family farm in rural America – the Pacific Northwest to be exact. I can tell you that nobody on a farm is invisible! Your absence from chores is quickly noticed and you will be just as promptly reminded that, if you want to eat, you better take care of the animals first! Likewise, in small rural towns everyone knows everyone (and everyone’s business, too!). Even now, when I return to my “old haunts,” I’m still recognized as my father’s “oldest boy.” This used to bother me as a teenager... I felt that my own identity was “invisible,” that I was merely an extension of my father. Now that he is many retired, he’s more likely to be introduced as my “father” rather than by name... how the tables have turned! Yes, in older times were simpler ways and everything was done pretty much face-to-face on a handshake. Nobody was invisible. You knew the people you interacted with because you were neighbors, you grew-up together, worshiped together, went to the same schools, shopped at the same stores, ate at the same restaurants (you get the picture). But in today’s atomized, fast-paced, networked society we seem to be too busy to look up from our mobile devices and see the individual in the crowd (especially when everyone is wearing a mask – thanks COVID!). In the early, heady days of the Internet, and when the World Wide Web still had that “new technology smell,” scholars like Sherry Turkle (MIT professor of social science & technology) and Howard Rheingold (American author & critic) wrote rhapsodic about the possibilities of having different “online identities” and living our lives in “virtual communities.” Nowadays, with the prevalence of Web 2.0 (and rumors of a Web 3.0 “metaverse”), scholars have modified their stance. Turkle, in her 2012 TEDx talk (look it up on YouTube!) describes how we have become so vulnerable to technology that in real life we are alone even when we are together – we are becoming invisible. Our “online life” is unplugging us from real relationships and real world connections. Founder and President of Data & Society Research Institute, danah boyd (yes, all lower case) talks about “networked publics” and “invisible audiences” and the inability for one to know who exactly has viewed the various self-expressions we post on social networks. So, we continue to desperately post to the “networked publics” in hopes of making contact,ofbeing“ ”or“ ”oreven“ .” Through such emojis we are authenticated and made visible. This is why we all engage in such careful impression management of our social media accounts. We wish to influence the “invisible audiences” perceptions about “us;” we want strangers to “friend” us, to “like” us, and to “care” about us. In William Deresiewicz’s 2009 article, The End of Solitude published in The Chronicle of Higher Education, he asked a simple but profound question; “What does the contemporary self want?” It turns out that what we want is to be recognized, to be connected. In other words, we want to be visible. The contemporary terror of our postmodern times is anonymity... to be invisible. With the advent of social media, visibility has become the quality that validates us, being seen by others is how we become real to ourselves. I can’t help but think of my favorite 2020 Chilean film, Nadie Sabe Que Estoy Aquí (“Nobody Knows I’m Here,” dir. Gaspar Antillo –on NetFlix if you’re interested), in which we see the adult character Memo (Jorge Garcia), constantly revisiting the trauma of his past as a talented child singer. He has become a recluse on an isolated Chilean sheep farm quietly nurturing his pain, invisible and mostly forgotten. He dwells in a past that might have been, that is, until he meets Marta (Millaray Lobos), a woman who really hears him. This act of “seeing,” of recognizing Memo for who he is, brought him out of his shell and in the film’s climatic scene the world finally knows who he is – Memo is no longer invisible. In closing, I’ll leave you to reflect on the chorus from the song Invisible, U2’s “electro-tinged rock-anthem” (aren’t they all?) from their 2014 album Songs of Innocence. In the contemporary, postmodern world we find ourselves living in today, I think we can all relate. Invisible (RED) Chorus: I'm more than you know I'm more than you see here More than you let me be I'm more than you know A body in a soul You don't see me but you will I am not invisible I am here U2 (Songs of Innocence, 2014)