Matthew Sheret

The Real Michael Coffey

I made an injoke the other day. Feministeartle was an ifttt-bot designed to repeat what my friend Michael Coffey tweeted, just adding the word “Ladies” as an intro. A crude kanyejordan.

(Why ‘feminist’? I don’t know. This was an injoke started about six months ago based on something Coffey said on IRC. I can’t remember the details, sorry!)

Anyway, for its weekend-long lifespan I was gripped; every tweet could give the game away. It was very funny and, in retrospect, potentially very cruel. How might Coffey feel when he saw his family weekend was being lampooned?

He took it in good humour, which is probably why I felt okay doing it. But it reminds me of the time that James Bridle stole my face.

A while back he nicked my Twitter avatar, and it was a little while before I noticed. I really didn’t take it in good humour; it totally freaked me out. For context, it had been the first time I’d used my face in such a thing for a long time. I felt like he’d not just taken it, but my right to use it. I suddenly lost ownership of a part of how I wanted to represent myself.

Typing it – even thinking about it – I can’t help but feel that’s an immature reaction. But it’s a fair description of how I felt, and probably not a million miles from how I’d feel if a similar thing happened now (with a real photo that is). It’s also similar to how I felt when an old LiveJournal was being mirrored by a bot; I wanted myself back.

And yet… the technology to take someone’s avatar and mirror everything he does is within even my reach now. That’s new, the dark side of programming-tools-as-Lego.

(Subtle identity theft, in the sense of Russel’s SUBTLE FAIL. Something that’s perhaps right on the cusp of being as insidious as riffling through someone’s rubbish bins, but an awful lot more hygienic?)

February 20, 2012

Scrobbles and faxes

The Story was terrific! Thanks very much to Matt Locke for having me and to Simon Thornton for being excellent conversation.

Of the write-ups I’ve seen I quite like Matt Edgar’s construction of a theme for the event; the ‘uneasy relationship’ between data/facts and art. I have to say that at the event that didn’t really emerge for me, but it definitely sits nicely on top of some really stimulating talks.

The Story was my last thing on a stage for a while. Campire Stories,* which I delivered in Hamburg last week, is something I want to hammer into tighter shape, so if you’re interested in hearing about roleplay, storytelling and bots then give me a shout.

Mostly though, it’s time to write.

* People tweeted a correction for this, but ‘Campire’ isn’t a typo. It relates to this.

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February 13, 2012

Committing

The Miniatur Wunderland was terrific, filled with all kinds of amazing sights as well as dozens and dozens of ‘easter eggs’, like these climbers.

These are tiny moments in a vast and complex world. Each tiny joke is built to be overlooked by most people, but treasured by the few that spot them.

Which made it all the more impressive to notice that every little diversion like this had been fully realised: the path along the mountainside these climbers were taking had tiny ropes and ladders further along, completing their journey through the landscape.

Every one I spotted had been similarly thought through. Where two lovers lay in a field of long grass a small path had been trampled to it. Where Superman was coming to save the day a child further up the street stood gawping. Where skinny-dippers dove into the water their clothes lay crumpled by the water’s edge.

It’s an impressive commitment to maintaining some ‘fourth wall’, even when the easter eggs themselves are designed to reach through that wall and pull your camera arm to them.

February 12, 2012

Shuttle

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February 9, 2012

Time is broken

Matt spotted this. Worth noting that you can tell when an event occurs in my timestream by the length of my beard. What did DLT need to know?

February 3, 2012

Pride and joy

Across its seven issues Paper Science has comfortably and consistently produced some great works, introduced me to some wonderful artists, shown me some old favourites… As a showcase, it’s been a success, and its format has been a continual joy for me. I do so love these newspaper comics, and trust we’ll see the format continue to be used long after Paper Science finishes.

Very kind words from Richard over on the Forbidden Planet blog as Paper Science 7 hits the stands.

They also carried a string of contributor interviews this week, as Marc Ellerby, Philippa Rice, David O’Connell and Josceline Fenton all took time to chat about what made their pieces tick.

The King of Things joined in too. His description of how we met might well be my single favourite thing about 2012 so far. A tip of the hat to his ~~creator~~ biographer Adam Cadwell for bringing him to life.

February 2, 2012

Public

There’s nothing quite like putting your work in front of a disinterested public. WAW+P’s best moments have always involved people who ‘don’t read comics’ reading our comics, watching reactions good and bad bombard you. It’s ace.

We had a user-testing session today, involving only people who weren’t familiar with Last.fm. It was humiliating. And wonderful. Wonderful and humiliating. I can’t recommend it enough.

January 30, 2012

Long live Paper Science!

Paper Science 7 is out today, heralding the end of a project that’s played some part in my life for the last two and a half years.

I’m immensely proud of how Paper Science has grown in that time. The last four issues in particular are a snapshot of why British comics are flourishing right now. They’re available as a collection for just £8.

I’ll probably write up some of the lessons when issue 7′s had a bit of time to settle. Until then I’m just enjoying looking at Adam‘s lovely cover.

If you’ve been involved in any way – from spending hours slaving over panels to just coming up at a show and just picking up a copy – thank you. It’s been ace.

January 25, 2012

Buzzing and clattering

On Sunday I spent a few hours playing sound-man for Anne as she shot some interviews at the London Model Engineering Exhibition. It was exactly the kind of show you’re picturing in your head; finely detailed replicas all measured with laser precision (they actually use lasers to measure the parts) and presented by chaps (and a few chapettes) clutching cups of tea.

It was wonderful. Alexandra Palace was filled with buzzing and clattering as trains, planes and ships, displayed with pride and… well, just lots of pride actually. The good kind.

I realised wandering round that the setup was incredibly familiar; it shared all the smells and murmurs and chatter of a comic convention. But the beaming faces and eagerness to talk about work with new people felt a world away. Very few were tucked behind tables and those that were were busy making things whirr about, delighting people.

Maybe it was a generational thing; by and large the exhibitors were in their 50s and 60s, a lot more confident of their abilities than the (generally) younger comics crowd I’m around so much. But I got the sense that it wasn’t just that.

Speaking to Mitch from SMEE was a treat. He beamed about the work of his friends and fellows, proud to show the work he’d spent many thousands of hours on. He was humble about his achievements as a model maker, but not entirely self-effacing, understandably proud of work he’d contributed not just to the show, but to films like X-Men First Class, Lost In Space and Harry Potter. He was brilliant. Even better, he was brilliant while wearing a SMEE-branded workshop coat.

It was a welcome reminder that it’s not impossible to talk about print and storytelling with that kind of passion.

Anyway, I didn’t get many good photos but Anne’s film will make up for that when it’s ready.