{"id":96,"date":"2025-04-09T13:32:04","date_gmt":"2025-04-09T20:32:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/?page_id=96"},"modified":"2025-04-09T13:34:21","modified_gmt":"2025-04-09T20:34:21","slug":"task-7-mode-bending","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/task-7-mode-bending\/","title":{"rendered":"Task 7: Mode-bending"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-97\" src=\"http:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Screen-Shot-2025-04-09-at-1.23.37-PM-300x275.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"275\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Screen-Shot-2025-04-09-at-1.23.37-PM-300x275.png 300w, https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Screen-Shot-2025-04-09-at-1.23.37-PM-400x367.png 400w, https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Screen-Shot-2025-04-09-at-1.23.37-PM.png 654w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In this experiment, I tried to capture the reflective, natural imagery of American poet Mary Oliver to represent how my items express the essence of both past and present.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Self-Portrait&#8221; by Mary Oliver, from Red Bird. \u00a9 Beacon Press, 2008.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-99\" src=\"http:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Mary-Oliver-204x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"204\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Mary-Oliver-204x300.jpg 204w, https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/files\/2025\/04\/Mary-Oliver.jpg 372w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 204px) 100vw, 204px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>_________________________________________________________<\/p>\n<p><b>What&#8217;s in My Bag<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">A paperback, its pages worn\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> a tender hold, a world to warm.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> I carry this, not for utility<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> but for the quiet, palpable simplicity.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And there, beside it, the Nintendo Switch,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> a screen of light, where stories twitch.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Where I, too, become and play<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> in digital realms that stretch and sway.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Communication cards, neatly pressed,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> a tool, a bridge, for when words rest.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> They speak without voice, without sound\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> in gestures, meanings are found.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Coloured pens, a map of days,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> and a planner, where time lays.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Sketched in the ink of tactile thought,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> where moments, not pixels, are caught.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">An iPhone, glowing with its hum,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> a world condensed, a constant drum.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> With messages, calls, the blur between<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> the screen and life, where I\u2019ve been.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">A lanyard swings, with a fidget ring,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> a dance of hands, a steadying thing\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> A quiet pause, a breath in between<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> this world of noise, of silent shouting.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I think of years when this was not\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> when paper and pen held more thought.<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And games were books, or a simple song\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> the way it was, the way it\u2019s gone.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">An archaeologist might, someday,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> find this bag, and try to say<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> how we lived in times of shift,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> how analog and digital drift.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">My bag, a mirror to my mind,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to how I read, and play, and find<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> the ways to speak, the ways to plan,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to trace my place, to understand.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In each item, a story unfurls,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> of past, of now, of shifting worlds\u2014<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> I carry more than just what\u2019s used,<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> I carry the life I\u2019ve chosen, infused.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>________________________________________________________<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The process of transmediation involves translating ideas from one form of expression to another, transforming the meaning while preserving its essence. In this case, the blog post about the items in my bag has been transmediated into a poem, shifting from a detailed, analytical reflection to a more lyrical, evocative form. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This transformation highlights how personal items can represent more than just their practical use\u2014they tell stories about our habits, identities, and engagement with both digital and analog worlds. Through transmediation, we see the shift in how we interact with text, media, and tools of communication over time, blending the tangible with the digital in a way that resonates with both the past and the present.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; In this experiment, I tried to capture the reflective, natural imagery of American poet Mary Oliver to represent how my items express the essence of both past and present. &#8220;Self-Portrait&#8221; by Mary Oliver, from Red Bird. \u00a9 Beacon Press, 2008. _________________________________________________________ What&#8217;s in My Bag A paperback, its pages worn\u2014 a tender hold, a [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":104102,"featured_media":98,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-96","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","has-thumbnail"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/96","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/104102"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=96"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/96\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":102,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/96\/revisions\/102"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/98"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubc.ca\/justine540\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=96"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}