Facebook Notes: Maximum Capacity

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I joined Facebook, the online social networking site, about a year and a half ago. Back then, Facebook had opened its site to third party developers and a large wave of people joined, jumping to about 30 million users. There seems to be another wave of users recently and the latest figures show 150 million users. And probably increasing.

I find myself using Facebook for most of my emailing, a lot of my photo-sharing, some light blogging, event organizing. And I link most of my other online activities to my Facebook wall. It’s an amazing tool, often time-sucking, but always useful for keeping in touch with friends who are all over the world, and sharing interesting links. I used to do a regular mass email, alerting people to things I’ve been doing. Now I just let Facebook take care of that.

It could be alarming, entrusting so much of my personal information to 189 other people who may be careless with it. But I set the privacy settings pretty tightly. And I’m prudent about which Facebook applications I use. What more can you do? Life has always been full of risks.

Maximum Capacity or Dunbar’s Number
At the beginning of the year, I accepted my 150th friend. And considered capping it off there. Shut the gates and put up the no vacancy sign. I’m a tidy guy. I go through regular cycles of purging everything I don’t need or use. But it doesn’t work that way with people. People aren’t old newspapers or fraying socks.

I chose 150 as the maximum because of Dunbar’s Number, an idea popularized in the Tipping Point. The concept theorizes that a group works best up to about 150 people. It’s the maximum number of people that the human brain is able to conceptualize as one group, knowing everyone’s relationship to each other. Beyond that, accountability starts to decrease, competing factions start to naturally form separate groups.

The plan was to only accept new friends if I unfriend someone else. These unfriended people would be someone who I rarely interact with on Facebook and who I never see in real life. But I just couldn’t do it. It seemed unnecessarily mean.

Still, some limits had to be set on who was able to have access to all my photos, photos of my friends, personal information on daily activities of myself and others.

So I devised guidelines on who to be Facebook friends with. I’m now at 189 friends. My social network is well past its cohesiveness, apparently. And it appears to be burgeoning recently, with a wave of people joining. Some tipping point seemed to have been reached.

The Secret Handshake
These are the criteria that I seemed to be loosely using on whether to accept friends. The following are automatic ins.

• Family members.
• Close friends.
• Collaborators in dance or music. Grueling hours of rehearsals and getting naked together in dressing rooms form permanent bonds.
• Current co-workers. How awkward would it be to ignore a friend request from someone you see every day?
• We’ve lived together. No secrets there.
• Fellow graduate students. We were a close knit group.
• We’ve traveled together. Nothing bonds people more than traveling together.

After a while I had to expand those criteria. And now factors that increase the likelihood of sharing the secret handshake include:

• High school friends.
• Acquaintances who always gave off a good vibe.
• Teenage kids or younger siblings of my friends. Even though they all have 700 friends.
• The more mutual friends we have the better.
• We recently connected and they seem like someone I’d like to know more.
• People who write a note of greeting instead of just send the request.

So I guess that’s pretty much anyone. The only people I’ve ignored are those people who I don’t know and have never met. Or I barely know but can’t remember any kind of interaction with them. Also, people with 700 friends are obviously in it for the popularity contest, and I tend to ignore them, unless they’re kids of my friends. They can’t help it if they grew up in the age of social networking.

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Facebook 3.0

The next step for Facebook should be giving people levels of access. Right now, it’s just two levels. Either access to everything, or almost nothing at all. It’s not useful.

I’d like to see several circles of access. Like one for friends, co-workers, family, old classmates, etc. That way, embarrassing party photos could be limited to your drinking buddies. Interesting acquaintances you just met recently might have an introductory area of access. And these circles could be overlapping.

So many applications already do this in clumsy ways. There are Top Friends, Girl Friends, Dance Friends. It’s natural to want to make order out of the community of friends.

Otherwise, it’s just a mass of people milling around your Facebook house. Some people you want to have tea with in the living room. Others you want to laugh and drink wine with in the kitchen. There may be one or two you want to plop in the basement and shut the door. And you certainly don’t want to mix these crowds.

For a demographic analysis of my facebook friends you’re welcome to read:

The Gated Community

The Archetypal Friend

Race and Ethnicity

Mezzotints and Post-Apocalyptic Art

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Yozo Hamaguchi is a mezzotint artist. It was my first exposure to this art form and from what I gathered, it’s a metal printing method that fades colors. The pieces are still lifes, ethereal, simple, minimalistic.

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Subjects include lemon halves lit up next to a darkened wine bottle silhouette. Or a glowing darning needle plunged into a subdued multicolored ball of yarn. The colors fade in and out, transitioning from dark to slivers of light. The pieces are small, so they need a patient eye, willing to pick up subtleties.

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Downstairs there were some other print artists. I wasn’t terribly impressed with most of them, but I was struck by the lithographs of Hisaharu Motoda. His compositions were of famous Tokyo landmarks in a post-human decay. Busy Shibuya Station’s Hachiko crossing was deserted and over-run with weeds, trees and leaf litter. Vines grew up Tokyo Tower. Glamorous Ginza was reduced to rubble. The line details and the subject matter could have been disturbing, but viewing nature retake human edifice was therapeutic.

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The Musee Hamaguchi Yozo is hard to find and out of the way, for me anyway. And the space is quite small, more the size of a private gallery. There are no other interesting landmarks to visit in the neighborhood. So I don’t know if it was worth it to trek out to this obscure central Tokyo museum.

But the cute receptionist gave me a 200 yen discount for the cafe, and it was a proper cafe experience, with well-crafted joe, and what looked like amazing desserts, which I didn’t try, much to my regret.

I went there because it was one of the museums that I could enter free with my Grutt Pass (a must for any Tokyo museum-goer). But for a print enthusiast, or if you’re in the neighborhood, it’s worth a stop.

“Art is Explosion”

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“Art is explosion” is how Taro Okamoto described the act of creation. The best example of this is his Myth of Tomorrow, a massive mural that represents the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. It’s hanging now in bustling Shibuya Station, where millions of commuters can glimpse it on their way to work.

The central image is a figure exploded by a nuclear bomb. The face of the figure is a continuation of his familiar theme of a sun-like visage. This chilling piece is a marked departure from his usual imagery. Usually, Okamoto’s art has a child-like ebullience. But even these other prepubescent sculptural works that I’ve seen around Tokyo have a certain creepy vibe about them. Though the figure is violently exploding, it is also flowering out. The shadow of hope simultaneously accompanies the horror.

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Painted in the 1960’s for a Mexican luxury hotel, it mysteriously disappeared for 40 years once the building construction was halted. It was finally found by Okamoto’s assistant, in a warehouse outside Mexico City. It has since been meticulously restored. The 7 original panels were reluctantly halved so that it could be shipped to Japan, and finally hung last November. And now, it’s probably the most viewed work of art in Japan.

In 1942, all of his works were destroyed in a Tokyo air raid. This event and his experiences as a soldier during WWII seem to have shifted his art to darker themes. You can see Polynesian influences, as well as elements of what he perceived as the mysticism of Jomon, very early Japanese, pottery.

There’s also a museum where more of Okamoto’s art can be viewed. I haven’t been there, but I’ll be sure to make a trek out there soon. Here’s the English link.

Another Project for Obama

Barack Obama is about to be inaugurated today as the first African-American president so I thought it would be a good time to point out an irony of today’s events.  The inauguration is happening in a city where more than 300,000 African-American citizens don’t have the right to be represented in Congress. Actually, it’s almost 600,000 people who don’t have representation, 57% of whom are African-American.

Because it’s not a state, but rather a federal district, Washington DC doesn’t have Senators, and it’s lone US Representative doesn’t have voting power in the House of Representatives.  There are 4 states with fewer than 700,000 people, all of them (Alaska, North Dakota, Wyoming and Vermont) have more than 95% White folks.  They each have 2 Senators and 3 Representatives.

The history of Washington DC makes this injustice even more poignant.  The capital was built by slaves.  In fact, the large black population is due to the fact that DC was a major hub of the slave trade.

Back in the 80’s Jesse Jackson lobbied to have Senate representation for DC, virtually guaranteeing two black Senators.  Before Barack Obama, there were only 4 black Senators.  Ever.  Obama and his recent replacement increased that number by 50%.

The mayor of Washington DC has limited power, since decisions by the municipal government has to be approved by a federal committee, dominated by southern whites.  Consequently, schools and other public services are chronically underfunded.

There are other US territories that don’t have federal representation, like Puerto Rico and Guam, but they don’t have to pay federal taxes and are not subject to federal laws.  Residents of Washington, on the other hand, pay more taxes than 19 states.  That’s a lot of taxation without any representation.

It’s ridiculous and egregious that the people who live in the capital of the self-professed beacon of democracy, cannot elect officials to represent them.  Whatever the legal hurdles are that are needed to correct this glaring mass discrimination, needed to be done yesterday.  I know there are many pressing issues that the new administration needs to address, but securing voting rights for half a million people is so basic that it needs to be on the top of the list.

Comparing Hot Springs in Japan and the US

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Hot Springs in Hakone
The three museums I have recently reviewed are all in Hakone, a mountainous area west of Tokyo where there are lots of hot spring resorts. T and I went there during Christmas. It’s a popular weekend getaway for Tokyoites because it’s only an hour away, and there are many hotels with hot springs and baths to soak away the urban detritus.

The way hot springs are enjoyed in Japan is totally different than in America. First, Japan has lots of them because of all the geothermal activity, one of the few advantages of being in earthquake country. In the US, there are few. In fact, they’re quite rare.

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In Oregon, there were some hot springs around Eugene, and the most popular one is the Cougar Hot Springs. But you have to drive over an hour on some mountain roads. Then you have to find the landmarks that lead you to the dirt road. Go on this dirt road for a while until you come across a makeshift dirt parking lot filled with out-of-state cars; I rarely saw one with Oregon plates. Hike into the forest a bit until you emerge in a clearing.

What you’ll see is a series of pools, each one progressively cooler than the one above. There are lots of naked hippies soaking, playing music, smoking weed. It’s actually a pretty fun scene. But the Japanese hot spring experience, called onsen, is much more refined.

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Onsen
The onsen is not just a hole in the ground, out in the middle of nowhere. The hot water is pumped up from underground, channeled into a bath area with outdoor and indoor pools. The area is nicely landscaped. And they are separated for men and women.

The bath areas are part of a hotel. Often a luxurious meal is served in your room. Then people come in to put out the futon. Guests pad around the grounds in yukata, which are like bathrobes.

Instead of just hopping into the hot water, bathers are required to clean themselves before entering the pools. The baths are not for cleaning, just soaking. Then you chill out with a pool full of naked old men. Most of the time though, if you go during the off-season or the middle of the week, it’s quite empty. T and I actually were able to have chats with each other over the wall because there was no one.

Each onsen has it’s own mixture of minerals. Hakone has cloudy yellowish water, heavy on the sulfur. Hot springs in Tokyo usually have a clear reddish tint due to the abundance of copper. I think I remember Izu had a greenish hue. They all work the body in their own way. Like a local wine, each one has its own personality and medicinal qualities.

While it’s an interesting adventure trekking out to a naturally formed hot spring, I’d rather have the onsen experience. Either way, hot mineral water feels good and I’ll soak in one anywhere.

Photos are from the hotel website.