On Narrow-Minded Conceptions of What Makes One a “Journalist”

10 minute read

What constitutes a 'journalist' is a semantic debate I've had dozens of times, particularly in grad school and in my previous full-time job as "Digital Media Manager" (another vague term) at Savannah Morning News. Outside of professional spheres, though, the general public discourse goes something like this:

Random person: So tell me again: Where do you work?

Me: At [Insert Publication Name Here].

Random person: 'Oh, cool! So you're a reporter. What do you write or cover? [insert slight tone of self-righteousness from random person knowing now she makes more than me].

Me: Well, I write code.

Random person: So you're a developer?

Me: Yeah, in a way, but I build news apps and data projects for editorial purposes, so I'm a journalist, too.

Random person: 'Oh...."

Typography, design as discourse

In his essay on text and typography, Lupton touches on the fundamental ideological shift of the digital era: that "the dominant subject is neither reader nor writer but user, a figure conceived as a bundle of words and impairments" (73). In other words, we cannot continue to view the way we communicate with audiences in a traditional, two-dimensional form where only the information we communicate is important. We have to think about how it will be perceived by others. As designers, we cannot simply apply our own artistic sensibilities to the material we produce. We must always keep the user in mind. In the case of typography, this user-centric approach requires what Katherine McCoy calls "redefining typography as discourse." Design is more than a work of authorship. It is a work of communication that challenges "readers to produce their own meanings while also to elevate the status of the designer within the process of authorship" (73). Simply put, design is a conversation, not a sermon.

Response to Manovich on the Database

Manovich crystallizes the nature of the database-driven story and its applications to new media by describing them both as essentially dissolutions of the conventional narrative form. Stories told in database form need not follow a linear narrative structure with a beginning, middle and an end. Instead they are what Manovich calls "collections of individual items, with every item possessing the same significance as the other" (218). For Manovich, this database-driven story might take the form of a Twitter stream, which allows stories to be conveyed in small bits rather than packaged into a predefined narrative. But he also makes sure to address the potential pitfalls of this sort of database-driven story: that we  may "have too much information and too few narrative that can tie it all together"; that we may have too many Tweets but no logical or convenient manner of piecing them into a usable format (217). Finding a balance between the competing impulses of  information and narrative, then, leads Manovich to his undergirding call to action: We must devise a system of what he calls "info-aesthetics," a sort of theoretical framework that helps us marry the aesthetic component of information access (i.e. the database-driven model) with the aesthetic components of processing or filtering that help us turn raw information into a coherent fashion (217).


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