[screenshot by harry (do you see me?)]

One of the more interesting NMC Symposium on Mashups sessions I attended was Brian Lamb’s wholly unexpected multimedia mashup extravaganza Confessions of a  Mashup Un-Artist. Held in Second Life (as you can see in the screenshot above), DJ Goldkey– as Brian is now known– put on a show you really have to listen to or watch. Any textual summary I could make would be useless. Also, Brian has provided some notes about his inspirations and sources in his blog.

What I loved about the whole thing (beyond the fact that it wasn’t another session spent watching slides pass by and beyond the content of the production itself) was the variety of reactions it received. While some just grooved to the sounds, putting their best avatar dance moves to use while peering at the video, others repeatedly asked if they were seeing and hearing what they were supposed to be, while a few were simply befuddled, mystified– even angered– by the whole thing.

I experienced a feeling very similar during this session to one I had during the opening night readings at Northern Voice– an exciting connection with the point, and product, and the why behind our use of these tools. I’m glad Jeffrey Keefer posted his thoughts about the session… not because he is wrong, but because he is in one sense completely right. Those who came to the session with certain expectations borne of a particular set of objectives motivating their attendance at the symposium– such as those expecting practical nuts and bolts of creating a mashup or those wanting to be told how mashups are useful in education or in their classroom– stood a good chance of being disappointed. And while I might not advocate for a whole conference of nothing but such performances (well, I might, but it wouldn’t really be a conference any more, which could be a good thing, and it would answer a generally different set of questions), having activities like this is a Really Good Thing. They remind us of what education is all about– not just the objectives, process and knowledge but also the product and expression.

Facts and instructions are not always– maybe not even usually– the answer. I compare this to the fact that when I’m struggling most with a vexing problem of technology, education and design, I most often turn to a book of poetry or put on some good music. I’d have a hard time coming up with a cogent theory of “application” of Coleridge to how to facilitate a class discussion, but I am keenly aware that for me there is a whole world of richness of expression and thought that ties into the way I live in and approach the world… and most of that world is in the dark, unseen and hard to quantify.

I enjoyed that Brian’s “presentation” was not to elaborate on the composition and details of a mashup and how they might be used, but to give the people attending his session a potentially powerful experience of a mashup for themselves… one whose “content”
centered on the foundational issues of culture, technology and education itself. It strikes me as a bit surprising that so many people there to learn about mashups were uncomfortable and surprised at being confronted by one, reminding me of the classic tensions between theorists and practitioners, and educators and students. Clearly we have a long way to go!

It looks like Jim Groom and Alan Levine need to put their heads together and release Conferencing 2.0 or 3.0 or wherever we are now.

As an outsider, I appreciated the ELI conference Twittering– it reminded me a lot of the Emerging Technology Conference’s IRC channel (that’s what you get in a geek audience, even though Twitter was on everyone’s tongue at last year’s event) without anywhere near as much snark… though clearly sometimes snark is the only respondsThat makes sense, though, because (unless you delete constantly) Tweets are out there on the record after the event… IRC chat (including all the insights, links, and hijinx) is generally lost when the event is over, or certainly not readily indexed and available high in Google search returns.

I still missed the traditional liveblogging, though with more podcasts being made available every day that desire will probably fade. I’m not sure what the answers are, but I’ve talked about remaking conferences (in a different context) before. It’s frustrating as a speaker, too, where even small deviations from the established format are rarely accepted and difficult to implement.

Clear your calendars, Northern Voice 2008 is coming. The 2007 version was, without question, the single best event of this kind I have ever been to, and there’s every reason to think this one will be better. By hook or by crook, I will be there. I have a dream (which is fitting since I am here at the home of Martin Luther King, Jr.) that not only will last year’s inimitable posse return, but the pantheon will expand with the addition of the rest of my dream team: Alan Levine, Bryan Alexander, and Gardner Campbell. I feel a little like an impostor just imagining being part of that group for any amount of time!

If it’s anything like last year, education will be a strong presence– but what makes Northern Voice such a great experience is that so many people are there with their hearts and minds open, expanding my vision, and reminding me how vital and important this whole communicative sphere is beyond being tools and applications that are valuable for educators.

I made it to Atlanta to participate in the 2007 WCET Conference. I’m looking forward to presenting in a few forums:

• A pre-conference session on The Tools of Web 2.0
• A friendly public debate/discussion on Social Software
• A talk on synchronous and asynchronous conversations

But, as usual, I look forward most to meeting up and talking with colleagues. I always learn more than I could hope to teach, and it’s always a pleasure to meet up with good friends. We need to get more of ‘my’ crowd here for future WCET conferences– it feels ripe for explosive growth and transformation.

Liz Lawley reflects a bit more on gender diversity at tech conferences and links to two articles whose text and associated comments are worth reading.

I agree that there is a gender diversity problem at tech conferences and both posts by Anil Dash eloquently speak to that issue. But the more fundamental and disheartening problem is lack of diversity of voice at these conferences. I don’t see the “gender” issue as being that much different from the “A-List Echo” issue in form… and in effect it is perhaps even more damaging.

The very discussion at hand is a great example of the kind of inner circle discussion that reflect the A-List mentality that dominates most conferences. Just look at the names and how many of them most people will recognize with the last name: Anil, Tim, Liz, Eric, Cameron, Caterina, etc.

At most tech conferences I attend, the real issue is not specifically lack of female presenters, but lack of new and lesser-known voices of any kind. Conferences, in so many unhappy ways, reflect the kind of hegemony and gatekeeping that Web 2.0 is supposed to be against. By all means, select from the lists compiled by Anil and Jens, but how about also culling from the other 80% (or 99.5%) of the web for speakers and presenters and facilitators outside of the tiny fraction that spend their time appearing at practically every conference there is? There’s plenty of opportunity to go around. It’s great that Caterina and Anil, for instance, have chances to present– they are very good– but what about the dozens of other people who have something interesting to share and are good at sharing it (and that’s just the dozens I know)? Maybe instead of scores of repeat perofrmances, we could see the A-Listers only a few times and open the doors a bit wider to speakers outside of the established A-List group… male or female.

The flu refuses to give in completely and sometimes I literally have no voice (and when I do I sound, to myself at least, like a cartoon character), but I am off to Vancouver, B.C. for Northern Voice 2007. I just can’t pass up the opportunity to meet and learn from so many great people, including quite a number who have been extremely influential on my thinking and career. Unlike most other conferences, NV seems to be as much about good old fashioned personal networking and discussion as presentations. I’ve had the privilege of attending quite a few different conferences and hearing from luminaries of every stripe– and occasionally even getting to spend a few minutes with them– but the chance for real discussion is usually rare.

And sometimes it’s just nice to have a chance to be “in the fold” with others who labor in the same areas and share so much background. The O’Reilly Emerging Technology conference has a similar comfortable feeling of being someplace I belong, but the lack of people involved in education, humanities, social sciences and citizen journalism is hard to deal with. NV appears to feature the best of all these worlds– the stellar attendee and speaker list of a “big” conference with the social and learning opportunities of an un-conference filled with my peers and mentors.