Telling Secrets, Spoiling Secrets
Reasons why telling secrets online is a bad idea
By Sarah Murray
Posted June 11, 2007.
On a fairly regular basis, I, like countless others, visit the PostSecret website. You may ask, "but why?" Well, I shall tell you.
Mainly, it is a good way to judge others, and to console myself that I'm not as badly off as some miserable bastards out there. But inevitably, there may be a time when all of us can be lumped in with said miserable bastards. On these occasions, and when solitary drinking and writing bad poetry does not suffice, a quick trip to PostSecret may just help. You can identify, you can wallow, and you can even curse out your lack of creativity, your total apathy, and the knowledge that your (theoretical) postcard would never be as witty, or as compelling/shocking/gut wrenching as one of the 20 or so cards that earn a coveted weekly spot on the site.
All of this can be accomplished online. But on one very special night, I was give the chance to indulge in all of these activities live and in person, with the brains behind the project, Frank Warren, and an audience of roughly 200 people.
So, on a sunny spring evening (Thursday May 31st, 2007 to be exact), I sat back and celebrated my lack of shoes and socks, relaxing beneath the pencil crayon pillars of OCAD and waiting for the secret pleasure and pain of countless souls to be discussed, displayed, and dissected.
And they were. It was a crowd as carnivorous as a gathering of hipsters could be, and everyone was ready to gnaw at the bones of human nature. I was excited. I generally like events that light up the creative spark, or foster some kind of sense of understanding.
"Disappointed" is the easiest way to explain what I felt. Disappointed in the fact that the whole thing left me feeling so blah, totally uninspired, and a little bit dirty.
Frank Warren — bless the man and his community art project — has the appearance and understanding of that favourite high school teacher that everyone, at one time or another has had. The one you were allowed to call by a nickname, crack jokes with, or ignored the occasional skip day. To be more specific, he reminded me of that teacher that is called in to mass assemblies to talk about reasons why killing yourself is generally a poor idea.
Pinstripe shirt, friendly face and soft voice in tow, he cracked jokes, showed off favourite postcards (many of which didn't even make it onto the site), and shared some non-secret "secrets" of his own to boot. Sat perched atop his stool, he gave an earnest talk about everything PostSecret, and undoubtedly carried a message that truly had an effect on some of the people present.
Everything about the show was earnest. Warren earnestly wanted his earnest audience to enjoy the earnest emotions put up for display. It was something akin to a mellow, audio-visual, affirmation-chanting love-in, with the distinct smell of cheese in the air.
I earnestly felt like a bit of a voyeuristic perv, and I am still wondering if I was the only person who felt that way.
The beauty of PostSecret is its anonymity and intimacy (despite the chosen medium). It is something solitary and melancholy, riddled with hidden jokes and irony that leaves the reader lost in thoughts about their own experience.
But bringing it to light (and to a blatantly public place) kind of killed it for me. It turned something beautiful and personal into a multimedia, mass marketed, overproduced experience, despite what Warren's best intentions probably were.
Maybe the secrets behind Post Secrets should have remained tucked away.