The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, February 26, 2019 — 5
Sarah
Fennel
is
on
the
precipice of a major inflection
point in her career. Her fourth,
actually. An impressive figure
made even more impressive by
the relative brevity of her career,
Sarah is a food blogger and
the creator of Broma Bakery, a
popular
mostly-baking
blog
dedicated to visually impressive
yet
accessible
recipes.
But
before her career started, there
was of course that first point of
change, which happened to take
place here, at the University of
Michigan.
Sarah had spent the first two
years of college at New York
University, but found herself
overwhelmed and unsatisfied.
“I just found myself feeling
really depressed there, to be
honest. I felt like the students
were not what I expected,”
Fennel said, in an interview
with The Daily. While there,
she decided to create a blog as a
means of fulfillment and a way
to combat the unhappiness she
was feeling. “I was like, let’s do
something fun and creative.”
But after completing her
sophomore fall semester at
NYU she was still dissatisfied
with her surroundings, so she
decided to take some time to
reassess.
During this time-off, she
visited the University. Not to
view the campus, but to spend
time with friends from high
school. While all hanging out
in a dorm room, her friend’s
roommate casually suggested
she should apply. The roommate
herself was a transfer student,
and assured Fennel that it was
“the easiest application process
ever.” So she applied, but had no
serious intention of going.
But, as life would have it,
she got in. “I basically was
faced with the decision of: Do
I go back to something that has
made me unhappy in the past or
do I try something new? And so
I just decided to go for it.”
While
at
the
University,
Fennel
majored
in
anthropology.
“I
loved
anthropology, and biological
anthropology
in
particular,
because it examined humans
in a way that bridged evolution
with our intrinsic behaviors.
I find it fascinating that we all
have individual desires and
goals, and yet somehow we’re
so interconnected that we can
evolve together as an entire
species based on collective
interest.” All the while, she
continued to work on her blog,
which at that time functioned
similar to an online diary. “(I
was not writing that much)
and it was not a lot of original
recipes, I would recreate things
other people had made. And it
was just baking.”
After graduation, she took a
job as the catering coordinator
at Sava’s. But after a year at that
position she felt burned out. “I
sorta had a quarter-life-crisis.
Or a 22-year-old crisis. Where
I felt like I wanted to shift my
focus onto doing something
more like myself,” explains
Fennel. “I was working super
hard and not really reaping the
benefits in terms of being able
to go home at the end of the day
and being like, ‘I created that.’ It
was creating for someone else.”
So she quit her job. And for
the second time she decided to
take a leap. She gave herself two
months to try to build her blog
into something. “I really feel
like because I had nothing to
fall back on, in terms of — I had
never made any money on my
blog, I didn’t really have any job
to go into if this wasn’t working
out — it just made me work even
harder.”
Her hard work translated
into success. In one year, she
went from 30,000 pageviews
to 200,000 pageviews, and her
Instagram following increased
from 600 to 10,000 followers.
But even with the success,
the transition was at times
daunting. “There was really
this gradual shift of worrying
what I was going to do next
month, and where the money
was going to come from and
just feeling like an imposter. (It
wasn’t until) around the two
year mark when I had had this
momentum where the business
was continuing to function, that
that fear subsided. It wasn’t
until then that I really started
to feel truly confident in my
work.”
After working at the blog
full-time for about three years,
Fennel once more made a
shift in her career, this time
by
launching
an
additional
business, Foodtography School,
a
four-week
virtual
food
photography
course,
where
students
are
taught
about
subjects such as composition,
light and color, as well as
marketing and social media.
This expansion into online
courses was not premeditated,
though in some ways it was a
long time coming. Fennel was
constantly
inundated
with
emails from readers asking
her for help and resources on
food photography. “So I started
creating blog posts about food
photography
and
teaching
people how to edit, and my tips
for compositions, and I what
I used for lenses and camera
recommendations and things
like that.” But it was clear that
there was opportunity beyond
that. One day Fennel’s assistant
pulled her aside, “[She said:]
‘Sarah, you need to do a food
photography workshop, there’s
never going to be a perfect time
to do it, you just need to tell the
world you’re doing one and plan
it.’ And we did, and it was a huge
success. It sold out in four days.”
After
dinner
one
night
during this initial workshop, an
attendee told Fennel she should
consider turning the seminar
into an online course. “I had
come out of the workshop and
had netted like $10,000 and
I was like, yeah! Whatever,
I’m a millionaire, I’m good,”
Fennel said with a laugh. But a
few months later that attendee
followed
up
and
doubled
down—she
had
started
her
own business teaching others
how to create online courses,
and thought Fennel should
seriously look into it. So the two
had a few calls on the subject,
and Fennel eventually ended
up bringing her onboard as a
consultant. In the year since
launch, Foodtography School
has been such a smash hit
that Fennel has expanded it to
include two additional courses,
a more advanced version of the
original course and a restaurant
food photography course.
One interesting consequence
of the “foodtography” course is
that she’s been able to speak to
her readers and followers more
directly. “The most interesting
thing,” Fennel notes, “has been
seeing how much people are
craving content that is related
but
not
necessarily
food-
centric. They want advice on
how to grow their own business.
They want advice on how I stay
fit while eating real sugar and
butter. They want to see how I
decorate my home and things
like that. And people are just
asking for those types of content
at a rate that now feels like we
would be doing a service to not
offer that kind of content.”
Herein lies Fennel’s fourth,
and most recent shift: She’s
refocusing the brand to be a
more encompassing food and
lifestyle brand that will venture
into personal asides, such as
how to stay fit while eating,
in her words, “real sugar and
butter,” as well as pieces on
how she decorates her home.
In the next nine months she
plans to roll out new content
and test what works best with
her readers and followers. “I’ve
teased this idea a few times on
my Instagram stories (and) on
my Instagram feed, to really
get a sense of what people are
looking for. It’s going to be
trial and error. We’ll see what
performs best. We’ll see what
people enjoy the most and are
asking for more of. And really
go from there.”
Styling food with Sarah
Fennel at Broma Bakery
TESS TOBIN
Daily Arts Writer
It’s the era of Trump and we
love to talk about it. Politics
are everywhere (which is not
necessarily a bad thing). Mark
Doten’s “Trump Sky Alpha”
represents a growing trend in
literature where these politics,
especially Trumpism and social
media hypnosis, dare to foray
into prose. It’s the new vogue
for literature, apparently, to
write explicitly about politics
in fiction, with a splash of books
in the last year that try to tackle
just what the hell is going on.
Certainly, these experiments
can be delightful when done
correctly.
Subtle
political
suggestion can coexist alongside
literature
just
fine.
Socially
relevant themes can deliver
thoughtful messages and can
bolster plot.
Doten’s novel, unfortunately,
does not quite do any of this.
Even before the halfway mark
in “Trump Sky Alpha,” it’s clear
that “Trump” is just another
paragon of the overworked,
poorly-veiled
pandering
that
seems to have soaked into
the pages of some new wave
literature. It’s a muddled world
(and a desperately familiar one)
where President Trump, riding
his blimp above the United
States, declares nuclear war in
the days after a hacker group
shuts down the internet and
stomps the world into havoc.
Ivanka is on her knees crying,
too. Most everyone worldwide
dies in ensuing bombings.
Doten restrains himself here,
though, and stops “Trump”
before it can become merely an
apocalyptic thriller (at least in
the first half of the book — more
on this later). “Trump” instead
focuses on Rachel, a journalist
living
in
a
containment
center some months after the
destruction of the world. When
she receives a call from an old
boss asking her to write a piece on
internet humor pre-doomsday to
bolster the fragmented remains
of US journalism, she agrees,
given that she’ll be able to visit
the location where her dead
wife and daughter are buried.
So, Rachel throws in the towel
with her fellatio partner at the
containment center and heads to
the facility where the remains of
the internet are held.
Once
Rachel
surveys
the
corpses of Twitter and Reddit,
though, things of course go
terrifically wrong, and she is
implicated in a scheme to find
Birdcrash, the man responsible
for the initial crash of the
internet. The government forces
her to join the hunt for him,
which lasts a brief 10 or so
pages, before Birdcrash himself
captures
Rachel
and
starts
torturing her. Birdcrash talks
about Trump and drips acid on
Rachel. It’s a lot. It’s a mess.
Doten proves quite easily that
he is meme-savvy. He evidences
that he is a cool, woke kid, a
part of the 2019 resistance,
and I am supposed to feel cool
by association. The internet
archives Doten imagines from
the last day of the world feel
eerily familiar — folks blaming
jihadists,
using
(surprisingly
accurate) memes and hashtags to
eschew fears. It’s a well done and
probably realistic imagining.
Sadly, when this passage is
complete and Rachel is done
looking through the archives,
readers are back in the mess of
“Trump.”
Maybe most detrimental are
Doten’s characters, particularly
that
of
Rachel,
who
feels
shockingly underdeveloped. It
is difficult to believe that she is
traversing the nuclear-wrecked
country
and
agreeing
to
dangerous government missions
solely to see the resting place of
her family. And Doten doesn’t
even give the opportunity to
see if this is, in fact, believable
—
Rachel
rarely
interacts
with someone, there are few
flashbacks
or
information
revealed from her past and
her actions feel arbitrary and
without
thought.
The
plot
simply isn’t linear enough to
understand
Rachel’s
psyche.
Readers don’t even get to see
their main character develop.
Rather, Rachel feels like a
faceless pawn, one that Doten
uses to relay the absurdities of
“Trump Sky Alpha.”
It
seems,
strangely,
that
Doten could not decide if he was
writing satire or not. Instead of
committing to a theme, “Trump”
oscillates between Vonnegut-
esque satire (Trump’s daily blimp
that features moving chairs so
everyone can catch a glimpse
of the president) and what feels
like a failed but genuine attempt
at an action novel (dripping acid
through holes in someone’s skull
until they manage to fight back).
While reading, it was difficult
to come to terms with the very
fact that “Trump” features a
real-world cast of characters.
There is no message to fight for
while reading, no satire to even
interpret. It is merely an author
showing the world what he can
do in his writing (which is not
necessarily what he should do).
By the final quarter of the
book,
“Trump
Sky
Alpha”
devolves into a rambling chaos.
These pages are filled almost
exclusively with dialogue from
Birdcrash, the person behind
the internet hacks, who has
captured Rachel and seems
intent on torturing her while
mumbling gibberish. Not one
page of this was cohesive or
conducive
to
some
sort
of
meaning. Birdcrash speaks in a
plural form, describing to Rachel
encounters of gay intercourse,
cancer and a sexually abusive
father whom he likens to Trump.
Even if this is meant to be some
sort of mockery of politics, there
is nothing to be gained from
it. It is simply bad. Perhaps I
am supposed to be impressed
that an author is willing to talk
explicitly about penile pain and
poppers and “dank memes.” I
was not.
Truthfully,
what
potential
“Trump Sky Alpha” had at its
start is quickly eroded. There is
a political fear driving the novel,
one that many of us feel, but its
fervor is dulled by endlessly
random statements. These are
obviously intended to prove
that Doten is cutting-edge and
has a grasp of the internet and
its implications. But this is not
enough to form a novel. For most
of “Trump,” Doten seems to be
writing simply for the hell of it.
‘Trump Sky Alpha’ proves
the ultra-modern can fail
JOHN DECKER
Daily Arts Writer
STYLE INTERVIEW
COURTESY OF THE ARTIST
In the year
since launch,
Foodtography
School as been
such a smash
hit that Fennel
has expanded
it to include
two additional
courses, a more
advanced version
of the original
course and a
restaurant food
photography
course.
So, it’s been about an hour of
sweaty, bass-thumping dancing at a
house party that, in most respects,
is identical to every other one I’ve
ever been to. I walk outside to
get some fresh air (and maybe a
welcome whiff of cigarette smoke)
when a friend approaches me
complaining that a girl she clearly
“cancelled” is still following her
“finsta,” or “fake Instagram.”
Let me dial this back a little bit.
In fact, let’s dial it back all the
way to 2011. I’m in middle school
and I have just heard of a fledgling
social media app called Instagram.
In those tweeny days, most people
I knew were active users on
Facebook. However, as Facebook
was becoming the conventional
platform of choice, Instagram
represented the Wild, Wild West:
lawless with these new things
called filters.
I
remember
the
days
of
Instagram when it was OK to post
10 photos of the donuts you just
bought and then — that same day
— post another photo of yourself
eating pizza. With no etiquette
established,
Instagram
was
a
free-for-all. Some would even
nostalgically consider this age of 1:1
aspect ratios and endless troves of
tacky selfies the platform’s “Golden
Age.”
Simultaneously, as Instagram
was breaking new grounds, the
godfather of social media (and
ironically, now Instagram’s parent
company) Facebook was being
decried as “dead.”
As the first social media platform
to gain international ubiquity,
Facebook had changed since its
college-student-only origins. In
2011, parents were starting to
make Facebook accounts, which,
as with any trend, can only signify
waning cultural relevance. Ads
were increasing their presence and,
worst of all, people were actually
beginning to put effort into things
posted. Instagram provided relief
from the increasing formality of
Facebook. It was an oasis for the
younger generation to express
themselves fully.
Now, fast forward to today.
Facebook and Instagram still exist,
yet things have changed. Facebook
has become the “serious” platform
used by all age demographics.
However, as a result of the presence
of everyone from your mom to
your high school literature teacher,
Facebook has descended into a
realm that seems to be dominated
solely
by
political
bickering
and other formal matters. The
discourse can sometimes be so
heated that it makes sense why
Russian hackers would infiltrate
it as a means to influence the 2016
Presidential election. Similarly, the
innocuous Instagram of 2011 seems
unimaginable in today’s culture of
“influencers” and brand-crafting.
Just like the Facebook of yore,
people actually give a shit about
what they post. This increasing
formality has prompted some
users to declare Instagram “dead”
as well. In fact, it has become so
formal that some users have moved
to other image-sharing platforms
like Vsco or Pinterest as a means
to express themselves without
judgement; some have even created
“finstagrams.”
Finstagram, a portmanteau of
“fake” and “Instagram,” ironically
is the place where users feel as
though they can be at their realest.
As a reaction to the growing
pressure of image control on
Instagram, users have begun to
open up side accounts. These side
accounts, in contrast to the mains,
are not under the user’s real name.
In fact, finsta account names are
normally derived from a pun or an
inside joke based on the person’s
name. Rather than letting anyone
who wants to follow you, only
your closest friends are allowed
to access yout finsta. With these
privacy precautions in place, the
finsta has become the perfect
place to reveal your true thoughts,
tell embarrassing stories, talk shit
about whoever, etc.
This
article
is
not
about
Instagram or Facebook, but a
phenomenon that affects social
media in general. If we naturally
run from increasing formality, why
does it continue to appear on every
social media platform that gains
popularity? It is a sad reality that as a
function of time and success, social
media platforms will all inevitably
lose their harmless and youth-
dominated origins in the process.
It seems to be a consequence of
the fact that participation in social
media is quickly transforming from
a voluntary activity to a chore, a job,
an economic resource.
Finstagram and formality
ELI LUSTIG
Daily Arts Writer
NEW MEDIA NOTEBOOK
BOOK REVIEW
‘Trump Sky
Alpha’
Mark Doten
Greywolf Press
Feb. 18, 2019