965 resultados para excellence
Resumo:
Twitter is used for a range of communicative purposes. These extend from personal tweets that address what used to be Twitter’s default question, “What’s happening?”, through one-on-one @reply conversations between close friends and attempts at getting the attention of celebrities and other public actors, to discussions in communities built around specific issues—and back again to broadcast-style statements from well-known individuals and brands to their potentially very large retinue of followers.
Resumo:
As the systematic investigation of Twitter as a communications platform continues, the question of developing reliable comparative metrics for the evaluation of public, communicative phenomena on Twitter becomes paramount. What is necessary here is the establishment of an accepted standard for the quantitative description of user activities on Twitter. This needs to be flexible enough in order to be applied to a wide range of communicative situations, such as the evaluation of individual users’ and groups of users’ Twitter communication strategies, the examination of communicative patterns within hashtags and other identifiable ad hoc publics on Twitter (Bruns & Burgess, 2011), and even the analysis of very large datasets of everyday interactions on the platform. By providing a framework for quantitative analysis on Twitter communication, researchers in different areas (e.g., communication studies, sociology, information systems) are enabled to adapt methodological approaches and to conduct analyses on their own. Besides general findings about communication structure on Twitter, large amounts of data might be used to better understand issues or events retrospectively, detect issues or events in an early stage, or even to predict certain real-world developments (e.g., election results; cf. Tumasjan, Sprenger, Sandner, & Welpe, 2010, for an early attempt to do so).
Resumo:
Twitter and other social media have become increasingly important tools for maintaining the relationships between fans and their idols across a range of activities, from politics and the arts to celebrity and sports culture. Twitter, Inc. itself has initiated several strategic approaches, especially to entertainment and sporting organisations; late in 2012, for example, a Twitter, Inc. delegation toured Australia in order to develop formal relationships with a number of key sporting bodies covering popular sports such as Australian Rules Football, A-League football (soccer), and V8 touring car racing, as well as to strengthen its connections with key Australian broadcasters and news organisations (Jackson & Christensen, 2012). Similarly, there has been a concerted effort between Twitter Germany and the German Bundesliga clubs and football association to coordinate the presence of German football on Twitter ahead of the 2012–2013 season: the Twitter accounts of almost all first-division teams now bear the official Twitter verification mark, and a system of ‘official’ hashtags for tweeting about individual games (combining the abbreviations of the two teams, e.g. #H96FCB) has also been instituted (Twitter auf Deutsch, 2012).
Resumo:
Over the past decade, social media have gone through a process of legitimation and official adoption, and they are now becoming embedded as part of the official communications apparatus of many commercial and public-sector organisations— in turn, providing platforms like Twitter with their own sources of legitimacy. Arguably, the demonstrated utility of social media platforms and tools in times of crisis—from civil unrest and violent crime through to natural disasters like bushfires, earthquakes, and floods—has been a crucial driver of this newfound legitimacy. In the mid-2000s, user-created content and ‘Web 2.0’ platforms were known to play a role in crisis communication; back then, the involvement of extra-institutional actors in providing and sharing information around such events involved distributed, ad hoc, or niche platforms (like Flickr), and was more likely to be framed as ‘citizen journalism’ or ‘crowdsourcing’ (see, for example, Liu, Palen, Sutton, Hughes, & Vieweg, 2008, on the then-emerging role of photo-sharing in disasters). Since then, the dramatically increased take-up of mainstream social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter means that the pool of potential participants in online crisis communication has broadened to include a much larger proportion of the general population, as well as traditional media and official emergency response organisations.
Resumo:
Each of the thirty-one contributions in this volume implicitly spells out its own answer to this question. Surprisingly perhaps even for such a highly interdisciplinary volume as this one, these answers vary considerably in their approaches, their objectives, and their underlying assumptions about the object of study. This diversity of scholarly perspectives on Twitter, barely half a decade since it first emerged as a popular platform, highlights its versatility. Beginning as a side project to a now-forgotten podcasting platform, rising to popularity as a social network service focussed around mundane communication and therefore widely lambasted as a cesspool of vanity and triviality by incredulous journalists (including technology journalists), it was later embraced by those same journalists, governments, and businesses as a crucial source of real-time information on everything from natural disasters to celebrity gossip, and from debates over sexual violence to Vatican politics.
Resumo:
Almost a decade after the 2004 O’Reilly Media conference which popularized the term ‘Web 2.0’, the impact of this concept on users and developers of the current generation of Web technology – and by extension, on the digital economy overall – is undeniable. At the time, ‘Web 2.0’ promised an interactive, engaging online space in which users were able to do more than surf from static, fixed Website to static, fixed Website. Although the implicit suggestion that the version change to ‘Web 2.0’ represented a clean break with this inflexible past must be read as mere marketing hype, the core principles which the concept outlined nonetheless form the operational basis for most mainstream Websites of the present day.
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While video is recognised as an important medium for teaching and learning in the digital age, many video resources are not as effective as they might be, because they do not adequately exploit the strengths of the medium. Presented here are some case studies of video learning resources produced for various courses in a university environment. This ongoing project attempts to identify pedagogic strategies for the use of video; learning situations in which video has the most efficacy; and what production techniques can be employed to make effective video learning resources.
Resumo:
The fastest-growing segment of jobs in the creative sector are in those firms that provide creative services to other sectors (Hearn, Goldsmith, Bridgstock, Rodgers 2014, this volume; Cunningham 2014, this volume). There are also a large number of Creative Services (Architecture and Design, Advertising and Marketing, Software and Digital Content occupations) workers embedded in organizations in other industry sectors (Cunningham and Higgs 2009). Ben Goldsmith (2014, this volume) shows, for example, that the Financial Services sector is the largest employer of digital creative talent in Australia. But why should this be? We argue it is because ‘knowledge-based intangibles are increasingly the source of value creation and hence of sustainable competitive advantage (Mudambi 2008, 186). This value creation occurs primarily at the research and development (R and D) and the marketing ends of the supply chain. Both of these areas require strong creative capabilities in order to design for, and to persuade, consumers. It is no surprise that Jess Rodgers (2014, this volume), in a study of Australia’s Manufacturing sector, found designers and advertising and marketing occupations to be the most numerous creative occupations. Greg Hearn and Ruth Bridgstock (2013, forthcoming) suggest ‘the creative heart of the creative economy […] is the social and organisational routines that manage the generation of cultural novelty, both tacit and codified, internal and external, and [cultural novelty’s] combination with other knowledges […] produce and capture value’. 2 Moreover, the main “social and organisational routine” is usually a team (for example, Grabher 2002; 2004).
Resumo:
Shanghai possesses an apt legacy, once referred to as “Paris of the East”. Municipal aspirations for Shanghai to assume a position among the great fashion cities of the world have been integrated in the recent re-shaping of this modern city into a role model for Chinese creative enterprise yet China is still known primarily as centre of clothing production. Increasingly however, “Made in China” is being replaced by “Created in China” drawing attention to two distinct consumer markets for Chinese designers. Fashion designers who have entered the global fashion system for education or by showing their collections have generally adopted a design aesthetic that aligns with Western markets, allowing little competitive advantage. In contrast, Chinese designers who rest their attention on the domestic Chinese market find a disparate, highly competitive marketplace. The pillars of authenticity that for foreign fashion brands extend far into their cultural and creative histories, often for many decades in the case of Louis Vuitton, Hermes and Christian Dior do not yet exist in China in this era of rapid globalisation. Here, the cultural bedrock allows these same pillars to extend only thirty years or so into the past reaching the moments when Deng Xiaoping granted China’s creative entrepreneurs passage. To this end, interviews with fashion designers in Shanghai have been undertaken during the last twelve months for a PhD dissertation. Production of culture theory has been used to identify working methods, practices of production and the social and cultural milieu necessary for designers to achieve viability.
Resumo:
The representation of vampires in horror movies and television programmes has changed considerably over the last two decades. No longer is the vampire portrayed simply as a monster or representation of death. Now, the vampire on our screen such as True Blood’s Bill Compton, or Twilight’s Edward Cullen, passes as human, chooses to make morally sound decisions, becomes an upstanding assimilated citizen, works in the community, and aspires to be a husband to mortal women. The success of recent series such as The Twilight Saga (2009, 2010, 2011, 2012), The Vampire Diaries (2009 - ) and True Blood (2008 - ) has popularised the idea of vampires who cling to remnants of their humanity (or memories of what it means to be human) and attempt to live as human, which builds upon similar – albeit embryonic – themes which emerged from the vampire sub-genre in the 1990s. Within these narratives, representations of the other have shifted from the traditional idea of the monster, to alternative and surprising loci. As this chapter argues, humans themselves, and the concept of the human body, now represent, in many instances, both abject and other. The chapter begins by considering the nature of the abject and otherness in relation to representations of classical vampires and how they have traditionally embodied the other. This provides a backdrop against which to examine the characteristics of the contemporary mainstreaming vampire ‘monster’. An examination of the broad thematic and representational shifts from other to mainstream vampire demonstrates how mainstream monsters are increasingly assimilating into mortal lifestyles with trappings that many viewers may find appealing. The same shifts in theme and representation also reveal that humans are frequently cast as mundane and unappealing in contemporary vampire narratives.
Resumo:
The role of the screen producer is ramifying. Not only are there numerous producer categories, but the screen producer function is also found on a continuum across film, television, advertising, corporate video, and the burgeoning digital media sector. In recent years, fundamental changes to distribution and consumption practices and technologies should have had a correlate impact on screen production practices and on the role of existing screen producers. At the same time, new and recent producers are learning and practicing their craft in a field that has already been transformed by digitisation and media convergence. Our analysis of the work, experience and outlook of screen producers in this chapter is based on data collected in the Australian Screen Producer Survey (ASPS), a nation-wide survey conducted by the ARC Centre of Excellence for Creative Industries and Innovation, the media marketing firm Bergent Research, and the Centre for Screen Business at the Australian Film, Television and Radio School (AFTRS) in 2008/09 and 2011. We analyse the results to better understand the practice of screen production in a period of industry transition, and to recognise the persistence of established production cultures that serve to distinguish different industry sectors.
Resumo:
The monstrous landscape and the revenge of nature are recurring motifs in Australian cinema. In the horror genre, the idea of the monstrous landscape emerges from, and builds upon, an established tradition in Australian cinema in which landscape functions not just as a setting for action, but also as a character in its own right. Rather than a picturesque wilderness or countryside, or a serene natural world untainted by civilisation – representations common in landscape cinema celebrating positive aspects of the Australian ‘outback’ – the monstrous landscape is a dangerous, malevolent and threatening force. Drawing upon themes also common in Australian Gothic narratives such as entrapment in a hostile environment, isolation and fear of the unknown (Turcotte, 1988, see also Jonathan Rayner’s essay in this volume), the monstrous landscape acts according to its own logic indecipherable to non-Indigenous Australians and is represented in terms of its alien-ness and inhuman horror.
Resumo:
Independent filmmaking within the context of Australian cinema is a multifaceted subject. In comparison to the United States, where production can be characterised as bifurcated between major studio production and so-called “indie” or independent production without the backing of the majors, since the 1970s and until recently the vast majority of Australian feature film production has been independent filmmaking. Like most so-called national cinemas, most Australian movies are supported by both direct and indirect public subvention administered by state and federal government funding bodies, and it could be argued that filmmakers are, to a certain degree, “dependent” on official mandates. As this chapter demonstrates national production slates are subjected to budget restraints and cut-backs, official cultural policies (for example pursuing international co-productions and local content quotas) and shifts in policy directions among others. Therefore, within the context of Australian cinema, feature film production operating outside the public funding system could be understood as “independent”. However, as is the case for most English-language national cinemas, independence has long been defined in terms of autonomy from Hollywood, and – as alluded to above – as Australia becomes more dependent upon international inputs into production, higher budget movies are becoming less independent from Hollywood. As such, this chapter argues that independence in Australian cinema can be viewed as having two poles: independence from direct government funding and independence from Hollywood studios. With a specific focus on industry and policy contexts, this chapter explores key issues that constitute independence for Australian cinema. In so doing it examines the production characteristics of four primary domains of contemporary independent filmmaking in Australia, namely: “Aussiewood” production; government-backed low-to-mid budget production; co-productions; and guerrilla filmmaking.