I snarl in frustration as the latest export from Adobe Media Encoder retains its green screen background.
I’m already managing the baseline level of annoyance and cringe that comes with reviewing the same clips of my face over and over again, and the new (to me) technicalities I must now learn about piles on feelings of exacerbated exasperation. I am not made for the complexities of alpha channels and video codecs and reasonable file sizes for cloud sharing collaboration—
I'm made to writhe around on a stage!!!!!!!
>:-OOOOO
Fame is made up of memory.
This statement should feel intuitive. Why else would Irene Cara, in her smash 1980 hit “Fame,” compel us to remember her name while a chorus of background singers chant REMEMBER, REMEMBER, REMEMBER, REMEMBER? Why else would Geoffrey Chaucer, in his 14th-century poem The House of Fame, place Fame’s temple atop a mountain of ice engraved with numerous names—some well-protected in the mountain’s shadow and others melting away into obscurity:
Then I saw one side engraved / With famous folks names a plenty / That enjoyed great prosperity / And whose fame was widely known. / But I could scarcely find below / Any letters that I could read / That showed their very names, indeed / They were almost thawed through, / And of the letters but one or two / Were melted away of every name, / So un-famous had grown their fame / . . . For the other side, I must say, / Of this hill, that northward lay, / I saw was written full of names / Of folk that had achieved great fame / In ancient times, and yet they were / As fresh as men had writ them there / That self-same day, that hour just ere / That I upon them came to stare, / Yet well I knew why they were saved; / It was protected by the shade . . .
These artists do so because of an intrinsic understanding that to be famous is to be known, remembered, etched into the annals of history by many.
Cultural historian Leo Braudy (in his landmark work on fame, The Frenzy of Renown),1 deepens the connection between fame and memory by turning to linguistics—specifically, an etymological development from Latin to French.
Braudy starts with the Latin words laus and locus. The former is “the word for the laurel wreath that crowned the winners of athletic contests”; the latter, “a physical place.”2 These words, respectively, form the roots of two more Latin words: laudare (to praise) and locare (to rent). In late medieval France, laudare and locare converge to produce the French word louer, which is used in both ways (to praise and to rent) even today.
From this double meaning, Braudy pulls the following insight on fame: “[t]he person praised is the tenant of the praiser.”3 To praise someone—to deem them famous—is to rent out space in our memory for them. Fame is made up of memory.
The double meaning of louer also highlights the charismatic dynamic inherent in the relationship between the famous and their devotees, as discussed in last week’s essay. As tenant of their audiences, a charismatic leader must pay rent to their followers via the personal proofs that can establish charismatic legitimacy. To obtain (and maintain) a spot in the hearts and minds of others, a person must display some extraordinary talent. Pending audience approval, the (re-)established fans will then lease prime real estate—the top of their minds—to the fame-seeker, rent having been paid. Thus, louer also emphasizes the exchange of memory space and charismatic proof that unfolds between audiences and their beloved.
The intrinsic relationship between memory and fame can be found in some popular meme formats of today. If you call something your ‘Roman Empire,’ you declare that this thing is something that you think about very often. The same is true of something that ‘lives in your head rent free’ (note the use of rent in this meme format!!). Both instances refer to things stuck in your head, things that you continuously remember. We might say, then, that these things are famous (to you) precisely because they remain in your memory.
I have so much more to say about the fundamental connection between fame and memory, so I’ll continue this exploration in next week’s essay (where we might do some math hehe). But for now, I’ll leave it at this: famous people, famous places, famous things are famous if they occupy space in our collective memory.
Fame is made up of memory.
After a few more unsuccessful exports and texts of desperation, my lead animator recommends just sending over the compressed raws, something they suggested doing from the start.
I may not be made for the deeper levels of computer creation, but I can sure as hell delegate harder tasks to others more skilled . . .
Braudy, L. (1997). The Frenzy of Renown. Vintage Books.
ibid, p. 220
ibid, p. 220