Phase II Update: Retropticon (formerly PseudoCam)

Assembled Retropticon 0.2 prototype

Position Statement

The Retropticon functions as a commentary on the pervasiveness not only of external surveillance, but also of self-surveillance. The title of the kit references not only Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon--a hypothetical architecture that allows occupants to be controlled through perpetual, perfect observation--but also Michel Foucault’s envisioned application of the Panopticon as a structure for broad social control through self-imposed surveillance in the service of disciplinary compliance.

In Foucault’s text, Discipline and Punish, he describes the panoptic social structure as being not merely imposed on individuals by external forces, but actually self-enforced; the strictures of disciplinary control are internalized by the individual out of a fear of being observed violating the social standards of behavior (and the punishment that may result). Thus, although social control is initialized by the imposition of a system upon the individual, it is ultimately constructed by and sustained within the individual.

The exercise of constructing a Retropticon refers to the significance of self-surveillance in both practice and material form. The general form--a camera--is an unambiguous reference to the technology of observation. Although it is a socially distributed design, a Retropticon is hand-made; the effort of the individual is required for construction, much as the effort of the individual ties them to disciplinary norms. The mirror contained in the Retropticon reflects only that which is visible in the aperture of the “lens”; in examining the Reropticon, the viewer reveals themselves to be the subject.

Because the Retropticon is visually identifiable as a camera-type object by its shape and surface charactaristics, once noticed, it is aggressive without being physically dangerous. By being inexpensive, small, and light, the Retropticon can be deployed easily and unobtrusively in locations that allow the element of surprise when discovered by others. It is through the mechanism of surprise that the Retropticon is able to function effectively; the process of noticing, recognizing, and investigating an installed Retropticon allows an uninitiated subject to confront the phenomena of pervasive, distributed surveillance, but also the self-imposition of that surveillance by the members of society.

User Test Notes

• Industrial designers make very good assembly testers; they have natural experience with a variety of construction methods and materials. Angie and Moto were generous enough to contribute their time and effort for construction and time lapse photography (respectively).
• The assembly of the Retropticon is, for the most part, "evil", but the product can be considered "cute".
• Circles are much easier to cut with scissors than a hobby knife.
• It may be feasible to have the components cut out with a laser cutter, which would be faster and neater than the manual method.
• Standard white glue is not optimal because glued pieces must be held together for a long time (in some cases minutes) in order for the glue to set.
• The tiny tabs on the button are a bit too tiny; it makes assembly difficult. In fact, most small details should probably be avoided because they do not offer enough pay-off for the amount of work required to add them.
• The flash assembly needs to be simplified.
• The lens assembly should probably be simplified; the lens ring components are difficult to combine neatly.
• Apparently, when I am recorded via time-lapse photography, I look like a bobblehead.

Assembly Instructions

Retropticon Assembly Instructions

Video Documentation

time-lapse video of kit user test on 2011-11-10

Photo Documentation

cutting out components

almost done

finishing touches

finished Retropticon prototype

note the reflection visible in the Retropticon

top-right view

In the wild

PseudoCam, wearable behavior modification system

It is fairly uncontroversial to assert that many people will modify their behavior when they are aware of being observed or recorded. As a mechanism of modifying behavior, the implication of observation‐and the implicit threat of punishment or retribution based on the evidence thus obtained‐is both time-honored and effective. The principle, exmplified in social phenomena such as Santa Claus, is one of the reasons that investigative reporters and law enforcement professionals frequently make use of hidden cameras specifically to prevent people around them from altering their behavior so the "true" speech and actions of the subject can be recorded.

But what if inducing others to modify their behavior is actually the primary goal of using a recording device instead of a mere side-effect of the act of openly capturing images and/or audio? The introduction of an obvious means of recording a social interaction alters the event in potentially desirable ways; rude or uncooperative customer service agents, unruly teenagers, and insensitive comments or jokes can be discouraged by the tactical deployment of a camera.

The continuing miniaturization and commodification of optic sensors and audio recording devices already give individuals the capability to capture their interactions with others through a wide variety of ubiquitous consumer devices such as cell phones and tablets in addition to point-and-shoot cameras or handheld video recorders. However, many of these products demand constant manual engagement to hold and operate, which can negatively impact the wearer's mobility. Also, because the devices require power and internal capacity to actively record images, video, or audio, the user is required to devote mental resources to managing the batteries and storage media of the devices. The technical aspects of operating a modern recording device, while suited to the purposes of recording, actually impede a user that is primarily interested in modifying the tone of their social interactions.

Additionally, in some jurisdictions, the state of law has not fully digested recent technological advancement as it relates to photo- and videography within the public sphere. As a result, the use of recording devices in certain public and semi-public contexts, such as at shopping malls, performance venues, or around police officers, can result in a range of legal consequences ranging from denial of entry to actual prosecution for wiretapping or eavesdropping, as illustrated by the state of Illinois' ongoing case against Michael Allison. Although the legal right to record people in public is theoretically held to be valid by the courts (see Glik v. Cunniffe), the widespread confusion apparent in recent court actions encourages a degree of risk avoidance when implementing a camera-based behavioral modification system, if for no other reason then to reduce or obviate the need for an expensive legal defense.

The purpose of the PseudoCam is to provide a low-cost, DIY, camera-like behavioral modification solution for situations where the actual recording of images or audio is superfluous to requirements. By being a small, light object, the PseudoCam can be affixed to apparel or accessories through the use of Velcro or simple clips. The prominent lens assembly and visible recording indicator light makes the PseudoCam readily identifiable as a active camera to a subject being engaged by the wearer‐such as a store cashier or fellow CTA traveller‐but the overall package is small enough to be worn comfortably and discreet enough that the wearer does not stand out in a crowd. Because the recording indicator light is the only active component in the PseudoCam, the power requirements are trivially low and do not require particular concentration from the user. In addition, in order to avoid the legal hazards of recording in public while still achieving the effect of inducing people to behave as if you were recording them, the PseudoCam does not contain any mechanism for recording images or audio of any kind. And, because it is easily constructed with inexpensive materials, the replacement cost for a lost or destroyed PseudoCam is quite low. Thus, the PseudoCam is a valid solution for anyone interested in observing the effects of camera-based behavioral modification without the potentially significant expense involved in using an actual camera.

Sketch #1 Possible Construction Guide

Sketch #2 Overview

Project Sketches (added 2011-09-29)

Response to The Slow Design Principles and Autonomy, Participation, And

Autonomy, Participation, And

The first half of Claire Pentecost's article is a sardonic indictment of the museum-gallery-art complex, clearly evoking the themes and imagery of Brian O'Doherty's Inside the White Cube and Robert Smithson's Cultural Confinement. In defining the idea of artistic autonomy as the "special privilege to be free from the demands of utility or any substantive connection to social, political, or economic reality" Pentecost is highlighting the paradoxical cost of achieving autonomy; in producing work that adheres to the rules and requirements of the "clean white room", the artist is, in fact, allowing their output to be subsumed for the social, political, and economic motivations of the host institution. In some ways, the concept of artistic autonomy as a goal seems prescient, as the realization that the reward of autonomy for high performance has only recently begun to gain traction amongst other commercial sectors (as illustrated by RSA Animate - Drive: The surprising truth about what motivates us).

The crux of Pentecost's argument is that the goal of autonomy is ultimately counterproductive; her use of the automobile as symbol of autonomy, described in opposition to "the inconvenience of coordinating our needs and desires with a larger populace," demonstrates that autonomy‐at least as defined through the lens of institutional validation‐actually leads down the path of solipsism and isolation from society in general.

Pentecost's use of language in "the idea persists that an aesthetic encounter can change consciousness" can be read multiple ways; is she betraying skepticism about the popular notion of the function of art, or  is she expressing hope that it truly can be realized in spite of attempts to codify success as freedom from  social, political, and economic conditions? Her answer, in the second half of her article, is revealed to be the latter.

Without issuing a manifesto or declaring a Movement, Pentecost effectively outlines an aesthetic that engages the tension between autonomy and participation rather than the requirements of the white cube. In the form of "restructuring participation", she highlights a philosophy of art that is oriented around the bottom-up production and dissemination of knowledge by the unempowered, rather than the embrace and reinforcement of the top-down status quo.

Why would an artist aspire to restructure participation in this way, which inherently requires involvement in the interests of a larger populace, rather than the attainment of their own individual autonomy? The illustrations that Pentecost uses all support at least one of the twin pillars of restructured participation and the distribution of information. Her own Visible Food project, and Natalie Jeremijenko's How Stuff is Made are crowdsourced knowledge bases constructed about commercial processes without the coordinated investment of commercial interest. Nance Klehm's urban agriculture education‐"imparting a vision of abundance where the untrained eye sees generalized green"‐is the closest Pentecost comes to describing her proposed aesthetic in established terms of connoisseurship, but still meets the dual criteria of inviting the local participation for the purpose of spreading knowledge. The Yes Men, while not necessarily involving broad participation from local groups, subvert the information dispersal mechanisms of established commercial media to highlight information that industry and capital prefer to keep hidden. Pentecost suggests that it is through the pursuit of the equalization of information that the aesthetic experience truly can change consciousness. In challenging the "systematic ignorance" that typifies the information age, artists can win autonomy from the "groups who benefit from pervasive opacity and myopia", rather than the appearance of autonomy awarded by an institution.


The Slow Design Principles


The purpose of Carolyn Strauss and Alastair Fuad-Luke's The Slow Design Principles is stated to be an attempt to describe a method of re-imagining the design process in order to achieve the goals of increasing sustainability and environmental responsibility. The mechanism they propose is the use of six "slow" principles for the collection of evidence to evaluate the design process. But how rigorously is the objective defined? What are the criteria against which their evidence is measured? How is the process itself designed to be evaluated?

Some of the works cited by Strauss and Fuad-Luke as examples of the different principles caused me to pose questions that I am not sure they adequately answer in their document. In Franinovic's "Recycled Soundscape", the structure of the project invites people to participate so that "under-observed phenomena of a locality are re-revealed", but are those revelations captured, or does the information simply walk off when the people move on? Is that a desirable goal in and of itself, or is it a missed opportunity to inform the design process? Julia Lohman's sheep stomach lamps in Flock highlight "under-valued" materials that are derived from animals, but how does that relate to the wide variety of animal by-products that are already used in non-obvious ways? Natalie Jeremijenko's How Stuff is Made and Claire Pentecost's currently defunct Visible Foods project are both good examples of projects that seem to be interrogating the hidden production chain behind consumer products, but are they intended to become resources that tie into Slow Design in a systematic way?

Perhaps the issue is that the efficacy of Slow Design principles cannot yet be determined because they are too new and relatively unknown. In contrast to the criticisms and questions I have with the outline of the Slow Design principles, I do think the process could yield valuable results; the Milkota exercise was quite interesting because it highlighted the numerous ways in which the concept of product design can be expanded to include social and environmental impacts in an integral fashion rather than treating those concerns as external to a commercial interest. It will be interesting to see if and how the Slow Design principles are adopted by the emerging class of interaction (or user experience) designers, and if the tenants of Slow Design can be applied to larger industrial projects, such as the design and manufacture of infrastructure or public transportation.