This post is part of Antenna’s Digital Tools series, about the technologies and methods that media scholars use to make their research, writing, and teaching more powerful.

In my last post, I discussed how I stitched together a system built primarily from simple office spreadsheet software to help me with the coding process used in my dissertation. As I moved into my first year post-diss with new projects involving multiple researchers and multiple kinds of research (examining not only television texts but also social media posts, survey responses, and trade press documents), I realized that my old methods weren’t as efficient or as accessible to potential collaborators as I needed them to be. This realization started a year’s worth of searching for a great software solution that would help me with the different kinds of coding that I found myself doing as I embarked on new projects. While I ultimately discovered a number of great qualitative research software, ultimately nothing was “just right.”

The problem with most of the research-oriented software I found was that they are based on at least one of two assumptions about qualitative research: 1) that researchers have importable (often linguistic, text-based) materials that we are analyzing and/or 2) we know what we are looking for/hoping to find. Both of these assumptions presented limitations when trying to find the perfect software mate for my research.

The first software I tried was NVivo, a qualitative research software platform that emphasizes mixed media types and mixed methods. This powerful software was great in many ways, not the least of which was that it counted for me. I first experimented with NVivo for a project I am doing (with Ashley Hinck) looking at Facebook posts and tweets as a site of celebrity activism, and in this context the software has acquitted itself admirably. It allowed me to import the PDFs into the system and then code them one by one. I found the ability to essentially have a pull-down list of items to consider very convenient, and I appreciated that I could add “nodes” (tags for coding) as I discovered them and could connect them to other broader node categories.

Sample Node List from NVivo

The premise behind my dissertation had been to set up a system to allow unexpected patterns to emerge through data coding and I had wanted to import this into my new work. NVivo supports that goal well, counting how many of the 1,600+ tweets being coded were associated with each node and allowing me to easily see patterns emerge in terms of which codes were most common and which were rare. An effective query system allows researchers to quickly find all the instances of any given node (e.g., all tweets mentioning a holiday) or group of nodes (e.g., all tweets mentioning a holiday and including a photo). While the format of my data meant I wasn’t able to use Nvivo’s very strong text-search query, its capability to search for text within large amounts of data, including transcripts, showed great potential. NVivo seemed to be the answer I was looking for, until I tried to code a television series.

Sort for most frequent nodes from my project with Ashley Hinck

For social media, my needs had actually been relatively simple. I was simply marking if any one of a few dozen attributes were present in relatively short social media posts. But with film and television they increased. It wasn’t as simple as x, y, or z being present, but rather if x (say physical affection) was present I also needed to be able to note how many times, between which people, and to add descriptive notes. This is not what NVivo is built to do. NVivo imagines that researchers are doing three different things as distinct and separate steps (coding nodes, searching text, and linking a single memo to a single source). NVivo is great at doing these things and I expect will continue to serve me well working with survey and text-based data. But for the study of film and television shows I found NVivo demanded that I simplify the questions I asked in ways that were inappropriate. After all, in the complex audio-visual-textual space of film and television it isn’t just that a zebra is present but whether it is live-action, animated, talks, dances, how many zebras are around it, what sound goes with it, etc. Memos allowed you to add notes but it only allowed one memo per source and the memos were awkwardly designed and hard to retrieve alongside the nodes.

I found that NVivo competitor Dedoose gave me a bit more flexibility in terms of the ways I could code but it did not do well with my need to simply add episodes as codable items. I was unable to import the episode. Also, simply typing in an episode’s title and coding as I watched was much harder than I expected. Like NVivo, Dedoose seems to imagine social scientists that work with focus groups, surveys, oral histories, etc. as their primary market. Trying to use Dedoose without having an existing spreadsheet or set of transcripts to upload proved unwieldy. In the analysis of film and television, coding while you are collecting data is possible, even desirable, and the notion that data collection and the coding of data would be two separate acts was built into this system.

If Dedoose’s limitation was the notion of importable data, Qualtrics’ was the notion that I would have already decided what I would find. I quickly discovered that while Qualtrics was wonderful at setting up surveys about each episode and effectively calculated the results, it did not facilitate discovery. If, for example, I wanted to code for physical affection and sub-code for gentle, rough, familial, sexual, it could manage that well. But if I wanted to add which characters were involved, this too needed to be a list to select from. I couldn’t simply type in the characters’ names and retrieve them later. Imagine the number of characters involved in physical affection over six years of a prime-time drama and you can see why a survey list (instead of simply typing in the names) would quickly become unwieldy.

That is how I found myself falling back on enterprise software; this time the database software FileMaker Pro. FileMaker Pro doesn’t do a lot of things. It doesn’t allow you to search the text of hundreds of word documents, it doesn’t visualize or calculate data for you, it doesn’t automatically generate charts. But what it does do is give you a blank slate to put the variety of types of information you need into each database and helps you create a clear interface for inputting this information. Would I like to code using a set of check boxes indicating all the themes that I have chosen to trace in a given episode? No problem! Need a counter to input the number of scenes in a hospital or police station? Why not?! Need to combine a checkbox with a textbox so I can both note what happened and who it happened to? Sure! And since it is a database system, finding all of the episodes (entries) with the items that were coded for is simple and straightforward. This ability to not only code external items but to code them in multiple ways for multiple types of information using multiple input interfaces proved invaluable. As did its ability to allow me to continue coding on an iPad as well as a laptop, which allowed me to stream video on my computer at work or while traveling and coding simultaneously.

FileMaker Pro has its limitations, too. It does not connect easily with other coders unless everyone has access to the expensive FileMaker Server, and since I have just begun using FileMaker I may find myself still paying for a month of Dedoose here and there to visualize data I collected in FileMaker or importing the notes from my database into NVivo to make a word tree. But at the end of the day what characterizes textual analysis is its interpretive qualities. The ability to add new options as you proceed, to combine empirical, descriptive, numerical, linguistic and visual information, and to have a platform that evolves with you is invaluable.

While I didn’t find the perfect software solution, I found a lot of useful tools and I discovered something important: As powerful as the qualitative research software out there currently is, no software currently is well suited to textual analysis. The textual analysis that media studies researchers do creates unique challenges. While transcripts of films and television shows can be easily imported (if they can be obtained), the visual and aural elements of these texts are essential and so many researchers in this area will want to code items without importing them as transcripts into the software. Furthermore, the different ways to approach media – counting things, looking for themes, describing aesthetic elements – necessitate the ability to have multiple ways to input and retrieve information (similar to Elana Levine‘s discussion about incorporating thousands of sources in multiple formats for historiographical purposes). The potential need to have multiple people coding television episodes or films requires a level of collaboration that is not always easily obtained outside of social-science-oriented software like Qualtrics. Early film studies approaches often combined reception with description and these two actions remain important in contemporary textual analysis. Textual analysis requires collecting, coding, analyzing, and experiencing simultaneously (particularly given the difficulties in going back to retrieve a moment from hours and hours of film or television). It is an act of multiplicity, experiencing what you watch in multiple ways and recording the information in multiple ways, that current software does not yet facilitate. The audio-visual text requires a different kind of software, one that does not yet exist, one that would not only allow for all these different kinds of input and analysis but also allow you to easily associate codes with timestamps, count shots, or scene lengths and link them with themes. While the perfect software is not out there, I found that combining software like Filemaker Pro, NVivo, Dedoose, and simple tools like Cinemetrics could still help me dig more deeply into media texts.

On (the) Wisconsin Discourses: Julie D’Acci (Part Two)

Part One: Here

Does circulating information influence, inflect, or inhibit material relations in empirically verifiable ways? And do strategic interventions in the super-structural sphere actually promote sustainable social effects?

These are easily the two most vexing problems facing cultural studies research. In a previous post, this series argued that Julie D’Acci’s work has attempted to empirically apply the theoretical assumptions of the Birmingham School without emulating a social science method.

Such an approach begins with the observation that cultural processes require evaluation beyond taxonomic description. Mass communication is effective at describing media events by focusing on the relationship between evaluative (after) and predicative (before) time. In contrast, cultural studies seeks to contribute to social change among multiple lines of tactical intervention – industrial content production, information circulation, identity representation, and most difficultly, consciousness formation. Put differently, the when of social change is a central distinction between these two forms of communication analysis.

By focusing on concurrent characteristics of tangible discursive processes, opportune moments to plant seeds for democratic thought are revealed as internal adjustments to qualitative phenomena by discursive blocs. Attention to the temporality of how blocs shift their positional presence among heavily circulating codes and representations, otherwise called emergence, was a central concentration of cultural studies between the 1960s and 1980s.

Two major methodological strains came out of this period, “bottom-up” research that extrapolates scale practices through empirical study, and critical/cultural theory that evaluates circulating concepts regarding perspective, embodiment, and aspiration. Julie D’Acci’s major contribution—her refinement of Richard Johnson’s “circuit model”—can be viewed as a kind of intellectual diplomacy intent on reconciling empirical and conceptual approaches innovated from shared political investments.

The Paradox of Strong Effects in Cultural Studies

As discussed in the last post, the cultural study of media differs from mass communications over philosophical orientation regarding how social change occurs and is elicited. A communications researcher begins by identifying an event, asking a directed question about the event, measuring a response to that question across demographic categories, identifying the legacy of the event in its opinion effects, and then proposing a short-gain solution based upon the political will of the discursive bloc queried. This model of media event analysis, usually associated with Paul Lazarsfeld and Elihu Katz, has been successful at communicating social processes to the hard sciences, and is accurate at accounting for opinion and predicting political outcomes that are opinion-based. A quantitative study builds context through a reverse gestalt that assembles parts into a constituted whole. A saturation of directed questions applied across demographic categories can be graphed as a topography of belief, in which utterances after an event provide a glimpse of analytical certainty.

In contrast, media and cultural studies has resisted adopting a strong effects model precisely because qualitative datum, such as imagination, intuition, and residual belief, tend to be minimized when survey findings are translated into quantified results. Survey research cannot assess how the historicity of implicitly coded information is received. Cultural studies begins with all constitutive characteristics of a phenomenon, which are then critically bracketed, detailed, and mobilized in line with a specific tactical project. A cultural analysis resists reactive delegation of a problem or position into a pre-constituted category. And uncomfortably received by social sciences, cultural research also requires acknowledgement of a kind of existential paradox, debated little since the 1980s in media studies:

Qualitative analysis resists strong effects correlations, specifically because analytic research questions predetermine a field of vision. Yet, cultural studies researchers have simultaneously held the belief that media has important role in the struggle over equity and representation. Put differently, cultural analysis believes that reception is more complex than transmission or measurement models permit, yet the method rests on the faith that circulating messages carry “strong” social effects central to the struggle over democratic participation.

Among recent responses to this paradox has been a common conclusion to simply evade this paradox, and continue with empirical mapping as a descriptive form with no intended outcome. This has led to what might be called a “third-wave” of de-theorized cultural studies in which some researchers have argued for increased attention to production blocs that carry emergent characteristics similar to discourses. In some cases, the “third-wave” has taken an additional step in de-politicization and argued that business practices are even more promising sites for eliciting social change than previously favored grass-roots interventions in public forums. While industries are worthy of close analysis, they are rarely if ever engines for equity.

Observing that businesses aren’t invested in social justice research does not reconcile a further existential dilemma that faces cultural studies. Media industries are an inseparable and permanent node in the production and circulation of representations. Part of the field must consist of analyses of the logic of capitalist entities; to do this requires a maxim for political investment, as well as healthy debate over the strengths and weaknesses of conceptual methods. Descriptive work is doomed to make evaluative claims after a social process or media event has already occurred. Cultural analysis that follows a “circuit model” centers on the continuous evaluation discursive reflexivity, as groups refine and begin to circulate their own messages.

The Circuit Model as Sublimation of Relational Distanciation

How to avoid the accidental reproduction of official knowledge? One appropriate method is to reveal inequalities as they occur. Another strong option is to genealogically analyze source concepts and practices as predicates for future social relations. A more difficult option is provided by D’Acci’s circuit model (below): to identify emergences as they’re presented among the constellation of limits of a specific context. Examining cultural emergence requires an understanding of how productive, distributive, and receptive qualities consist of series of exchanges that build valuation. Valuation of a specific coded representation increases circulatory momentum. Heavily circulating codes sublimate cultural processes and become what’s commonly referred to as a “determinant”, or a reference point for future code making.

D’Acci’s proposition is to account for this process by first identifying a 4-tiered but inter-subjective system of circulation. While its spheres—social, industrial, receptive, textual—come from Johnson, D’Acci’s system also implicates an additional methodological fourfold: empirical, conceptual, ethical, and aesthetic analysis, as a way to identify exchanges between interrelated determinants, including the internal organization of each sphere. Under such a rubric, a determinant further acts as a connective that facilitates a continuum of heavily circulating codes, while exposing contradictions opportune for change action. Circulating messages interact with cultural determinants, and the result, as argued by Stuart Hall and John Fiske, is that we can clearly identify discursive emergence.

If one sphere is cut from analysis, it recedes from sublimation into isolated divisions. Over-formalization of one node further has the danger of resulting in reproductive analysis of “official knowledge”, because representation has been cut off the process in which a code has been circulating.

A successful analysis of the sublimation between actants, objects, and processes causes even ephemeral relationships to become empirically revealed as an identifiable communicative relation that can be ethnographically described. Over time mapping of cultural representations might result in a sublated grasp of relational distanciation between circulating concepts. Sublimation of exchanges within a contextual field also reveals how degrees of duration might help to understand constitutive degrees of discursive positioning.

In terms of the ethical investments of cultural studies, devising a method to capture ephemera, subjective interpretation, and anticipatory aspirations, are a central to understanding how the performative dimensions of discourses respond to dominance. These are the sites of resistance, change, and possibility, and they are the first significations exorcised by methods of standardization.

To respond to the second question posed at the beginning of this piece: we can’t be certain if cultural analysis is able to promote sustainable cultural change in the U.S., researchers haven’t organized in a sustained way toward these stated goals. But we do have working theories from which to begin.

The generations of television studies scholars formed the structure of the day’s events: the morning was devoted to small-group and two-on-one workshopping of a few select graduate student papers with the visiting scholars. The afternoon session of scholarly presentations was devoted to the generation of television studies, a genealogy of the field with Horace Newcomb at the center. Organized by Jay Hamilton and UGA graduate students Evan L. Kropp, Mark Lashley, and Brian Creech, the symposium marked Newcomb’s retirement as both a full-time faculty member and as director of the Peabody Awards. The presenters reflected the celebration of the man and scholar: colleagues David Thorburn and Tom Schatz, and former students Amanda Lotz, James Hay, Alisa Perren, and Jeff Jones.

Both former students, Lotz and Jones focused on the integration of Newcomb’s contributions to the field into a common sense of television. Lotz began the afternoon session by discussing Newcomb’s article “Magnum: The Champagne of TV?” as a useful map to the field of television studies. She cited the article as the first use of the term “cumulative narrative” to describe the metaplot that extends over the full series but is separate from seriality, and used that metaphor to articulate the cumulative narrative of television studies from “Magnum: The Champagne of TV?” Within that article she could see the metaplot of the field, including: the politics of pleasure, the negotiation of narrative technique in a production economy, the provision of an alternative to rigid ideological analysis, and the way in which various aspects of television to be studied exist in conversation with each other. Where Lotz reflected on the ways the Magnum article had constructed a way of studying television that has become generally normalized for her, Jeff Jones expanded that normalization of Newcomb’s ideas to a general ontology of television with his focus on the concept of the cultural forum. Although the idea of television as a cultural forum has become so commonsense that it can sometimes seem irrelevant, Jones argued that it is still central to the way that we understand television, citing the recent attributions of changing popular sentiment on LGBT rights to its televisual representations.

Schatz and Perren took up Newcomb and Alley’s The Producer’s Medium as a significant influence on how television studies negotiates questions of authorship. Schatz focused on the tension between the film-studies mode of auteurism and the importance of writers and producers in television, peppered with anecdotes of his own friendship and colleagueship with Newcomb as an example of how film studies and television studies converge more than is sometimes thought. Perren also articulated the significance of The Producer’s Medium while calling for contemporary scholars and discussions of showrunners to continue to learn from that text. She argued that The Producer’s Medium positions producers/showrunners as a baseline for understanding broad continuity and changes in television and how there are still many issues of cultural gatekeeping regarding the powerful position.

Hay and Thorburn turned to the future of television studies and how Newcomb’s contributions to the field have paved the way for many possible avenues of media studies. Hay focused on how the intellectual formulation of television studies might lead the way to media studies of formerly invisible media, like smart appliances. He laid a hypothetical path from TV: The Most Popular Art toward a “critical refrigerator studies.” Thorburn, however, sees a full stop to the television that Newcomb had studied. He said that the first great age of television is over, and the next great age will be profoundly different. Regardless of what the next age of television looks like, however, he positioned Newcomb as a great scholastic gardener, never trying to recreate himself but instead cultivating a forest of scholars who will be able to tackle this new era.

At the close of the session, Horace Newcomb spoke about his history with television, both as a scholar and a teacher. As one of those “grandchildren” of television studies, to see Newcomb speak so passionately about himself, the medium, his work, the field, and his position in it was inspirational and electrifying. “I write about television because it changed my life,” he said; “growing up in Mississippi in the 1940s and 1950s, television gave me a different world  . . . television is practical politics.” He ended the day by articulating his educational theory by way of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”:

I am the teacher of athletes,

He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own,

He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.

Between the morning workshops and the afternoon papers, the colleagues, scholars, mentors and mentees gathered in Athens, Georgia stood as proof of that width, honoring Horace Newcomb by spending the day engaging with the field he helped shape.

This post is part of an ongoing partnership between the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s Antenna: Responses to Media & Culture and the Society for Cinema & Media Studies’ Cinema Journal.

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Image: James Turrell, Dhatu, 2010

A year ago, Neil Verma and I assembled a panel for the Society for Cinema and Media Studies Conference titled, “The Aesthetic Turn in Radio Studies,” aimed at mapping renewed engagement by radio scholars with concerns traditionally classified under the heading of “aesthetics”: among them, analysis of narrative structure and broadcast genres, methods of spatial and temporal representation, styles of vocal performance, and experiential qualities of radio listening. This turn to questions of aesthetics has also swept the field of television studies, with a proliferation of work on narrative complexity, TV genres, visual style and sound style, performance studies, and viewing experiences engendered by television’s changing technological interfaces. Yet, despite its prominence in contemporary media research, few efforts have been made to trace the origins of this aesthetic agenda or assess its current methods and goals. A genealogy of the aesthetic turn, I suggest, in fact reveals a return to and affirmation of core concerns extending back to the founding moments of American media studies. While recognizing this rich history, in assessing directions for future work on media aesthetics, I wish to argue the value of a specifically production-oriented approach, as an updated project of “historical poetics” that blends traditional tools of textual analysis with methods derived from current work in production studies.

An aesthetic agenda has, to some degree, been a part of the media studies project from the start, even in the “effects” tradition to which subsequent humanities-oriented approaches are commonly contrasted. Hadley Cantril and Gordon Allport’s founding 1935 study, Psychology of Radio, for instance, pursued a detailed investigation of radio’s distinctive modes of affective engagement (its “psychological novelty”) and the presentational styles needed to “conform to the requirements of the medium” (182). In their 1955 Personal Influence, Elihu Katz and Paul Lazarsfeld lauded this attention to the experiential qualities of different media, while reminding researchers that the “content analysis” on which effects research relied also required close attention to “form,” or the presentational techniques used to render content via particular delivery channels (22).  Lazarsfeld championed this same approach during his tenure at the Rockefeller-funded Office of Radio Research, warning against exclusive reliance on quantitative studies and courting figures such as Rudolf Arnheim to develop what Rockefeller staff described as a “positive aesthetics of mass communication” that employed humanistic methods to illuminate the communicative properties and possibilities of mass media.† A fully developed program of mass communication research, as Lazarsfeld understood it, would demand strategic forays into the field of aesthetics.

Fig. 1. In a move lauded by Katz and Lazarsfeld, Cantril and Allport’s Psychology of Radio (1935) delineates key differences between storytelling techniques for radio vs. stage and screen entertainment (228).

Despite this early dalliance with humanities-oriented research methods, concerted development in this area was delayed until the television era. Beyond the initial flowering of more literary modes of narrative and genre study in the 1960s-1970s (see, for instance, Lynn Spigel’s discussion of this period), few movements did more to advance the aesthetic agenda than the cultural turn that followed in the wake of work by Raymond Williams and Stuart Hall. As Jonathan Gray and Amanda Lotz note in elaborating the foundations of their own multimodal “television studies approach,” the cultural turn brought not only new methods for analyzing audience “decodings,” but also valuable tools for studying institutional contexts and the “encoding” strategies pursued by media producers. From John Fiske and John Hartley’s work on semiotics, to new models of genre study by Julie D’Acci, Robert Allen, and Jason Mittell, cultural studies scholars have encouraged close reading and critical interpretation of media texts, while working to situate these texts within their larger industrial and cultural contexts. Importantly, then, concerns with questions of aesthetics in contemporary media studies represent not a radical correction and repudiation of the cultural turn, but rather a strategic renewal and intensification of founding tendencies within this movement.

Fig. 2. Cultural Studies interventions: The “encoding” half of Stuart Hall’s Encoding/Decoding model (1973) calls for combined attention to media texts and their underlying institutional contexts.

The rise of production studies in recent years has offered further opportunities for enriched modes of aesthetic analysis. From John Caldwell’s seminal work on production culture, to Havens, Lotz, and Tinic’s influential “mid-level” approach, production studies scholars have argued the need to supplement structural analyses of media ownership and regulation with detailed studies of craft practices – moving industry studies, in effect, from the corporate boardroom to the studio floor. When coupled with methods of close textual analysis, consideration of struggles on the set and the “self-theorizing talk” (Caldwell) of producers in interviews and trade journals offers valuable tools for understanding, as Havens et al put it, “in an aesthetic sense . . . how particular media texts arise” and achieve dominance (237) – illuminating, in other words, the processes through which particular sets of programming forms and production styles are consolidated, and connecting them to the larger modes of production of which they are a part.

Fig. 3. A production-oriented approach to media aesthetics: Applying new tools for industry analysis from contemporary production studies, while reintegrating close analysis of resulting textual forms.

While most production studies work has remained focused on contemporary media and has yet to fully cultivate the aesthetic component of its research agenda, a production-oriented approach to media aesthetics holds great promise and may be of particular value for historical work. As an updated project of historical poetics, this approach combines close analysis of surface-level textual phenomena (the “what” of media programming) with critical study of the production techniques and institutional logics behind them (their “how” and “why”), isolating privileged formal properties and possibilities of media while recognizing these as historically contingent products of industrial sense-making and consent-winning. However, such an approach remains every bit as much “aesthetics” as “industry studies.” In a field increasingly occupied with an aesthetic agenda, why not call this certain tendency by name and begin serious discussion of its nature and future?

______________

† John Marshall, “Postwar Work in Film and Radio,” Memo to David H. Stevens, December 16, 1943, and “Interview with Rudolf Arnheim, January 3, 1944, Series 200R, RG 1.1, Rockefeller Foundation Archives. Thanks to Josh Shepperd for his assistance in procuring these documents.

One recommendation: re-imagine the function of TV texts in the cultural studies project and in doing so revise our role as scholars/teachers and the foundation of our expertise. Approaches to the politics of TV representation (a central lynch pin in cultural studies models) have remained relatively stagnant. In many ways, they still reflect the ideological approaches central to the field at its birth in the 1970s. Despite evolving interest in contexts of production and the conceptualization of reception as a process of negotiation, a key function of the teacher/scholar has remained the same: to open readers’/students’ eyes to the unnoticed ideological assumptions in texts by offering sophisticated readings that marshal representational theories, close textual analysis, and historical perspective.  Because such work is usually invested in a political project (e.g., feminism, critical race theory, Marxism, queer theory), the process of understanding the ideological implications of representations are a matter of opening students’ eyes to the politically problematic nature of those representations.

I apologize for falling into the pitfall of making sweeping, unsupported characterizations.  However, I do so in order to identify the most taken-for-granted ways we operate as teacher/scholars and to historicize the utility of certain kinds of expertise.  We work hard to know more about how texts operate than students and assume that our job is to impart more sophisticated ways of understanding texts, power, and politics. That approach made sense at a time when television constructed a mythic mainstream through images and narratives shared by large percentages of the population.  But I don’t believe it is as productive for intervening in a society as profoundly marked by the fragmentation of cultural consumption as ours.  Texts are still ideologically complex and politically invested, of course, but they don’t function the way they used to sociologically which should lead us to change how we use them pedagogically. TV texts don’t seem to be well suited any more for the kind of cultural studies interventions we have traditionally used them for (i.e., to make students understand culture as a site where systems of power get reproduced and contested with the ultimate goal of producing a more just social world) because both TV and society have changed.

In response to such changes, I would like to suggest that we shift our role and the basis of our expertise.  What could cultural studies work on TV look like if we saw our function as facilitating conversations among our students (and ourselves) about social identity, privilege, and power centered on their and our differing engagements with and feelings about television programming? To many of us, that may sound like we already do, but I believe we can do that differently—more explicitly and wholeheartedly. Executing such an approach fully would require different skills (and different modes of scholarship) than the ones we are socialized in during graduate school; our expertise would not be based (at least solely) on providing the smart, theoretically sophisticated reading of a text, but rather on helping students talk to each other about their experiences with media. It might require us to be sociologists, mediators, or even therapists as much as or more than cultural theorists and textual and industry analysts.  Such an approach might offer benefits better suited to our current context in which cultural segregation and political polarization seem to be as much of a problem for social progress as the homogenizing dynamics of network television were in the 1970s.

The approach we’ve followed up to now develops students’ capacity for critical thinking; it is predicated upon the assumption that demystifying how media texts operate or how the media industries are structured are practical ways to give students the skills needed to become responsible, liberally educated citizens. Giving students more information about the dynamics of cultural production and developing their ability to think critically is vital. But I also believe that there are limits to the benefits of that approach; just because people know more, doesn’t mean they will do better (to paraphrase and challenge Maya Angelou).  The new approach I suggest here could develop students’ capacity for empathy.  As various academic traditions have long pointed out, empathy is a socio-political competency needed to translate knowing better into doing better. TV studies could serve as a tremendously valuable arena where students can develop those abilities; in doing so, Television Studies could once again become a valuable part of the cultural studies project.

On (the) Wisconsin Discourses, Part Two (Part One,

What political investments are written into discursive analysis?

The previous post in this series looked at how “discourse” became a foundational concept for Media and Cultural Studies at Wisconsin. Concisely stated, the term “discourse” is used as an abbreviation for how cultural groups adjudicate upon and incorporate information into frameworks of belief over time. Central to this approach is the supposition that the most sustainable opportunity for organizational change occurs during the formation of consciousness. In Emeritus Professor John Fiske’s work, reference to the term discourse carries several political assumptions indebted to the Birmingham School regarding the agenda of media and cultural studies research:

1) Social and political change occurs most sustainably in the superstructural sphere, among belief systems and within conditions of identity formation; 2) Identity formation is subject to what codes and meanings are available in cultural circulation, be it through media, education, politics, or the popular; and 3) Cultural messages can be collected and then assessed, or mapped, among other coherent belief systems for the purpose of strategic intervention.

Put differently, media analysis for John Fiske consists of identifying how coded messages circulate and correspond to other meanings. Central to this orientation, it is assumed that social change can be observed in cultural circulation before it has taken the status of official knowledge or institutional precedent. If a specific practice has become dominant, it will still resist ossification and can be addressed through appropriate tactics. With reference to study of the effects macro-conditions such as regulation and industry ownership, discursive analysis favors evaluation of the everyday practices, meanings, and strategies reflective of consciousness and perspective. “Mapping” is a bottom-up method developed for the purpose of empirically identifying traces of dominant and emergent consciousness in information, opinion, and intention. A cultural studies project is fundamentally based in the hope that researcher literacy of this selection process be utilized for political mobilization.

What is the relationship between media literacy and aesthetic analysis?

Perhaps the most misunderstood element of Fiske’s work is his contention that aesthetic and political domains are never mutually exclusive. Aesthetic construction is, for Fiske, a fundamentally deliberative process directed at circulation. Since screen, image, text, and interpretation are filtered through discursive lenses, aesthetics cannot be divorced from ethical and political considerations. Representations are in the first place constructed with conceptual concerns, be it profit, advocacy, or depiction. And he believes that there are tools for tracing how those concepts become tangible practices and consequent reference points for social engagement.

Fiske argues that political will can be viewed in part among contours of discursive circulation, such as television, popular culture, etc. He claims that traces of consciousness can be seen both implicitly and overtly within how information is conceived, created, and positioned. Groups identify with, resist, or attempt to affect flows of cultural circulation within circulation itself. And in this way, the “understanding” of media adds a tool for political planning.

Which information has the capacity to infiltrate hybrid circulating spheres of political investment relies heavily upon how perceived confluence is interpreted by the internal “sense” of a discursive formation. That pleasure is taken in the consumption of media, for example, depends upon the quality of the artifice of communicative or representational impact, and to how many different outlets, messages, and interpretative channels information is received.

Discursive analysis of media is directed at mechanisms beyond ordered discipline or ideological reproduction at varied productive and interpretive processes. Analysis begins with tangible codes, methods of production of those codes, and distributive practices. To account for the complex processes surrounding media, Fiske proposes something like Richard Hoggart’s concept of “drift” literacy. Fiskean media literacy evaluates how different cultural information is filtered and comes into contact among public and popular spheres.

An act of production can be evaluated for the quality of its creative use of technology, performance, and affect. But for Fiske aesthetics refers to the way that content design serves as a façade for political will. He’s much closer to Bourdieu’s notion that aesthetic evaluation is indicative of one’s place in a social field, than say Kant’s argument that aesthetics are synthetic judgments based in a priori cognitive structures. Either position would be quite different than the assumption that Fiske advocates for a low media effect framework. An audience is not automatically or merely “active”; cultural analysis requires that a discursive formation carry historical engagement with cultural logic and hold coherent views for how to reconcile social contradictions. A discourse cannot spontaneously materialize out of shared habits of consumptive reflection, regardless of the degree of reciprocation between audience members or content manufacturer.

Hence Fiske’s “literacy of media aesthetics” may be thought about as critical evaluation of the artifice and strategies of discursive circulation. For a discourse to sustain, it must be recognized among a social field. And a social field is always embedded within future-directed political struggles over perspective, belief, and material relations. Research into “discourses” includes evaluation of how groups, industries, and individuals develop and interpret coherent codes of framed perspective. Since information is coded by methods of production while inflected with conditions of interpretation, developing tactics for political intervention requires sophisticated literacy of cultural institutional practices.

The next post in this series will look at how the concept ‘discourse’ has been examined by several faculty approaches to research into ‘circulation’.

As Antenna begins a new series devoted to feminist media studies, I want to consider what it might mean to have such a series and why it might be necessary. You see, in my way of thinking about media studies and, more specifically, about television studies, feminism is not just an approach one might take. It’s kind of the point.

I recognize that this way of thinking about media studies may be limited, and that television studies in particular has changed somewhat in recent years. But I think it is worthwhile to consider how and why I might have this perspective and how and why the field has changed to make feminism a perspective to choose, to take on (or, presumably, off) at will.

To be trained in media and cultural studies, with a focus on television studies, in the 1980s and 1990s (as I was) was a feminist enterprise. The humanistic study of television at that time was heavily indebted to cultural studies, especially British cultural studies and its politicized view of media culture. This perspective understands all media and culture as sites of struggle over power. This power may at times take on conventional political-economic forms but it also includes the negotiation of social position and identity, matters we might more typically associate with feminism. I hope it is no stretch to say that this feminism is one not only concerned with gender as a locus of struggle but also sexuality, race, class, age, nation, ability, etc., all of which are inevitably intertwined with one another, and with gender. The question of gender is particularly significant in the study of television in the U.S., in that the medium’s primarily domestic location, its blatant commercialism, and its propensity for “lowest common denominator” programming are traits that have connected it historically to the feminine (as well as to the underclass). That a substantial body of television scholarship has focused on the feminization of the medium, and on soap opera as a feminized product of that feminized medium, also established the centrality of gender and a feminist approach to the study of TV. Television is a feminized medium, thus the very act of studying it, of taking it seriously as a space for meaning making and social struggle, is a feminist act.

Except that so much has changed in the media landscape, in the social positioning of television, and in dominant constructions of feminism and femininity, that this foundational belief has been challenged. With convergence, “television” is much less clearly bounded, media of all kinds have been digitized, and new institutions, technologies, and experiences have expanded what “media” may mean. As Michael Z. Newman and I argue in our book, Legitimating Television: Media Convergence and Cultural Status, these developments have been crucial partners to the cultural legitimation of the medium both within and outside the academy. Now, some television programs are seen as art, some television technologies are seen as high-tech and cutting edge, and some television viewers are seen as discerning tastemakers. This emerging cultural discourse puts the discussion of television, both academic and otherwise, onto different terrain, associating some dimensions of TV with the masculine and the upscale, even as the feminized and denigrated standing of the medium persists and the social hierarchies upon which these categorizations have been built continue to thrive.

The changes in and around television have been accompanied by social and political shifts that may also make it seem as if matters of cultural struggle, particularly over gender, are in the past. Central here is what many have labeled postfeminist culture, a new, hegemonic common sense that assumes that because various social movements have accomplished some of their goals (feminism, to be sure, but we can also consider post-race or post-gay rights perspectives similarly), that the work of such movements is done. A “post” perspective thereby assumes that inequalities no longer exist, and any mention of them—or of the movements that strive for justice in their name—take us backward, doing more harm than good. That postfeminist culture has become dominant alongside processes of legitimation and convergence has made it even more difficult for a feminist and politicized media studies to be the assumed norm. Postfeminist perspectives combined with the masculinizing discourse of legitimation may seem to evacuate feminist concerns from the study of TV—a troubling notion, to say the least.

What, then, might a feminist media studies series of blog posts offer us? For one, it might remind us of the terms that have motivated and animated television, media, and cultural studies. My hope is to see questions of gender and the other categories of identity with which gender intersects directing the questions we ask and the analyses we offer. This may mean talking about representations of women, or women working behind the scenes, or women users and audiences. But the kind of foundational feminist media studies I am championing understands feminism more broadly than this. It encompasses the gendered address of various media, the gendering of media in popular and industrial discourse, and constructions of masculinity alongside those of femininity, as well as a limitless number of other questions that take on the intersectional nature of social identity and power. Together, such inquiry insists upon the vital relevance of feminism for media studies, now, and always.

~ We regard television studies not foremost as a field for the study of a singular medium; rather, we see television studies as an approach to studying media. ~

~ Television is a ubiquitous enough entity that other disciplines would be remiss in their duties if they did not study television at times, and thus other disciplines and approaches frequently inform television studies. Whereas other disciplines may study television with a solitary interest in its texts, its audiences, its producers, or its history and context, television studies sees each of these as integral aspects. As an approach, it is not solipsistic; it is and must be disciplinarily ambidextrous. Granted, individual studies within television studies may analyze only one or two of program, audience, industry, and context out of necessity, but a television studies approach should at the least be mindful of all aspects, and see each intricately interwoven with the others. ~

~ Television studies will not always seek to understand television for the sake of understanding television alone; on the contrary, works of television studies examine the operation of identity, power, authority, meaning, community, politics, education, play, and countless other issues. Television studies, though, starts with the presumption that television is an important prism through which these issues are shared, and hence that a multi-faceted and deliberately contextualized approach to the medium and its programs, audiences, and institutions will always help one understand those issues better. ~

~ As we’ve drafted the book, we’ve loosely referred to the distinction of television studies in our conversations as the “at least two of these” rule, hoping a more refined way to express this classification would emerge. Yet it has not, so we distinguish television studies as an approach to studying television or other media that typically references at least two of these—program, audience, industrial—analyses. Regardless of focus, television studies takes great effort to specify the context of the phenomenon of study in terms of socio-cultural, techno-industrial, and historical conditions. ~

~ We don’t believe that we are path breaking in marking off this distinction for television studies. Indeed, what we describe here is fully consistent with the “circuit of media study” offered by Julie D’Acci in her chapter “Cultural Studies, Television Studies, and the Crisis in the Humanities,” as well as the approach taught to generations of students, several of whom have been central in defining television studies in the last decade. ~

For better or worse, the book will be out this September.