Are blogs as important as bloggers think they are?

This post is part of of the biweekly Blogoff, a now legendary event where bloggers of all stripes weight in on the same topic. This week's theme is the title of this post: Are bloggers as important as bloggers think they are?

I like to think of myself as an influential blogger and by some measures I am. To remind myself that the qualifier some measures definitely applies to me, I keep this New Yorker cartoon by Alex Gregory on hand. It helps to keep me from putting too much stock in my own PR.

When Mr. Gregory drew that cartoon and The New Yorker ran it in September 2005, there were 70 million blogs in the world* and I really didn't know what a blog was. The blog indexer Technorati issues an annual report on the state of the Blogosphere and by 2009, the latest figures they have, there were 133,000,000 million blogs indexed**.

All statistics relating to blogs and blogging are hard to pin down because they deal with such an anarchic subject. Blog activity and blog traffic numbers are generally reported by bloggers themselves and even if you take that into account, there are a whole lot of blogs out there. Technorati paints a really interesting profile of what bloggers looked like as of 2009.

• 77% of Internet users read blogs according to Universal McCann
• Two-thirds of Bloggers are male  (c’mon ladies, start Blogging!)
• More than half are married and more than half are parents
• 60% are 18-44
• 75% have college degrees and 40% have graduate degrees
• One in four has an annual household income of $100K+
• Around half of Bloggers are working on at least their second blog
• 68% have been blogging for two years or more
• 86% have been blogging for at least a year

But of course I find statistics like this interesting, I'm part of the cohort in question. What's interesting too is a glimpse into why people blog.

• 72% of respondents are classified as Hobbyists, meaning that they report no income related to blogging
• Of those who have monetized their blogging to at least some extent:
• 54% are Part-Timers
• 32% are Self-Employed Bloggers
• 14% are Corporate Bloggers (defined as someone who draws a salary as a blogger for a company)

While I don't support myself from this blog's ad revenue, I derive all of my income from it and the projects having a blog leads to. That puts me in the 32% category, self-employed bloggers. There are more of us than I thought and that's a good thing.

Out of all of those statistics though, the most interesting and most important one is the first stat I listed, 77% of Internet users read blogs. When you stop to consider that web sites like The Huffington Post and Apartment Therapy are blogs with monthly traffic numbers in the millions, that 77% figure isn't very surprising.

Blogs, like newspapers, magazines or any other media form come in all shapes sizes and levels of influence. The question "Are blogs important?" gets asked all the time and it's as difficult a question to answer as "Are newspapers important?" The answer depends on which blogs, and which newspapers you're talking about. There's a pretty clear difference between The New York Times and The Dayton Daily News. According to those Technorati statistics, only 15% of Bloggers spend 10 or more hours each week blogging. That means there are a whole lot of hobbyist bloggers out there. Not that there's a thing wrong with being a hobbyist blogger but you can't lump a blog that documents the comings and going of a young family to an audience made up of that young family's grandparents with The Huffington Post.

Everybody who writes a blog thinks his or her blog is important and influential. Including me. But numbers don't lie and they don't grow in relation to wishes and dreams. So are blogs important? Yes some are.

If the question is turned to "Is blogging important?" the answer's a resounding yes and that importance only grows every day. As a social phenomenon its importance can't be overstated. With that said, there's a world of difference between blogging as a whole and an individual blog.

Old media isn't going anywhere and it's only a matter of time until "new" media gets absorbed by it. But blogging itself is changing the landscape. It's a lot of fun to be something of a pioneer (at least within my niche) and to have found myself a player in my industry (even if it's a bit part). But what's most amazing to me is that I can derive an income from it.

If you ask me how influential Kitchen and Residential Design is I wouldn't know how to answer that question. If you ask me how influential blogging is in the kitchen and bath industry, I'd say that it's a growing influence. But that's my niche and my industry. All niches and all industries will answer that question differently.

So if the question is Are blogs as important as bloggers think they are? My answer would be Ask a better question.

All of the participating bloggers in today's Blog Off will be listed here and updated as the day goes on. Give 'em all a look-see.

Edit

Blogger	Twitter	Blog Post Link
Veronika Miller	@modenus	Modenus Community
Paul Anater	@paul_anater	Kitchen and Residential Design
Rufus Dogg	@dogwalkblog	DogWalkBlog
Becky Shankle	@ecomod	Eco-Modernism
Bob Borson	@bobborson	Life of an Architect
Nick Lovelady	@cupboards	Cupboards Kitchen and Bath
Sean Lintow, Sr.	@SLSconstruction	SLS-Construction.com
Hollie Holcombe	@GreenRascal	Green Rascal Design
Saxon Henry	@saxonhenry	Roaming by Design
Betsy De Maio	@egrgirl	Egrgirl's Blog
Ami	@beackami	Multifarious Miscellany

The United States in color from 1939-1943

For most people I'd say, the image that sums up the Great Depression in the US is Dorothea Lange's Migrant Mother. As iconic as the image of 32-year-old Florence Owens Thompson is, that it's a black and white photograph takes it out of my ability to relate to her as a real human being. She's an archetype, she is The Depression and the struggle of a migrant worker's life is etched deeply into her careworn face. Even so, I have a hard time relating to her as a human being. I suppose I am a product of my generation, but black and white photography, despite its artistic appeal, makes its subjects seem unreal.

I'm admitting this as an ardent student of history. Studying the past is the best way to understand where you are now so far as I'm concerned and it's incredibly important to remember that history doesn't march in a straight line. It's a tapestry of interconnected threads and each thread depends on every other thread to make up the whole. It's too easy to cast the subjects of portraits and black and white photos in either/ or terms. Historical figures, like all human beings, were complicated and conflicted and they got through their lives the best way they could. The same as anybody. Life was not simpler, less violent, more directed, safer, cleaner or more wise in the past. The people who lived before us decried the state of things, clung to what ever they could, they loved, felt loss, smiled and laughed. They were us and I force myself to remember that any time I read something historical.

I've been obsessing for the last couple of years about US history in the years that lead up to World War II. Then, as now, the economy was spinning out of control and nobody seemed to know what was going on. I grew up listening to my parents' and grandmothers' stories about life during the Great Depression and it always thrilled me to hear about a time when butter was an expensive treat and everybody had a single pair of shoes. But parents and grandparents tend to tell the kids int heir lives the myths of their lives. It's a parental thing to do, to use one's life experiences for instructing a younger generation. It's been a real boon to flesh out those stories of expensive butter.

The world we live in today was built by the folks who survived the Depression and World War II, for better and for worse. Through a combination of hard work, self-reliance and a whole lot of government help, they left us a world where things like kitchen design matter.

Yesterday a great friend of this blog, Madame Sunday, popped a link from the Denver Post up onto Twitter. And the link contained 75 color photographs of life around the US between the years of  1939-43. I hate to admit it, but the subjects are easier to see as human beings because they're photographed in color. I spent hours yesterday pouring over these images and here are ten that really stood out to me.

Barker at the grounds at the state fair. Rutland, Vermont, September 1941. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Jack Delano. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Jack Whinery, homesteader, and his family. Pie Town, New Mexico, October 1940. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Russell Lee. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Distributing surplus commodities. St. Johns, Arizona, October 1940. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Russell Lee. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Young African American boy. Cincinnati, Ohio, 1942 or 1943. Photo by John Vachon. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Bayou Bourbeau plantation, a Farm Security Administration cooperative. Vicinity of Natchitoches, Louisiana, August 1940. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

African American migratory workers by a "juke joint." Belle Glade, Florida, February 1941. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Marion Post Wolcott. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Women workers employed as wipers in the roundhouse having lunch in their rest room, Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Clinton, Iowa, April 1943. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Jack Delano. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Rural school children. San Augustine County, Texas, April 1943. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by John Vachon. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

Mike Evans, a welder, at the rip tracks at Proviso yard of the Chicago and Northwest Railway Company. Chicago, Illinois, April 1943. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Jack Delano. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

School children singing. Pie Town, New Mexico, October 1940. Reproduction from color slide. Photo by Russell Lee. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress

The rest of these photos are on the Denver Post's website. Spend some time with them. As the economy flounders and as the US heads into another election season, it's important to remember what we have in common instead of concentrating so stridently on the things that set us apart.

Early autumn re-runs: How do I decorate my Tuscany dining room

This post ran originally on 27 February 2009. I used to be a lot more blunt in my reader question posts then I am these days but I think if I were asked this same question tomorrow I'd respond the same way.

Help! I am in the process of gutting my first floor and I'm going to get a Tuscany dining room. I want to decorate the room with bunches of dried roses but I'm worried that they're not right for a Tuscany theme.

Oh man, there is so much wrong here I don't know where to start. Before you spend a dime, stop what you're doing. Stop and then take $1500 out of your budget and fly to Florence for a couple of days. Well, maybe $2000. Whatever it costs, it will have a value that transcends its price. You see, while you're there you'll gaze at what the real Tuscany looks like and hopefully you'll forget all about this dining room you have in mind. Oh, and as a point of order, Tuscany is a noun and Tuscan is an adjective. What you have in mind is a Tuscan dining room, not a Tuscany dining room. If I have anything to say about it you won't have either, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

This Tuscan thing that you see in your mind is an entirely American invention. It's not even an homage, it's a cartoon. Here's what a dining room in the real Tuscany looks like. 

Note the lack of bunches of dried roses. There are no fake sunflowers or clots of plastic grapes either. There aren't any framed posters with nonsensical Italian phrases hanging on the wall, nor is there any faux painted brick. It's a basic, small table jammed into the space not already taken up by a tiny kitchen. It's neat as a pin, it's simple and it's orderly. But real Tuscan style isn't about decor or themed dining rooms. It's about views like this.

Or views like this.

Views like that beget a worldview that's entirely Tuscan and how things look over there are a product of that worldview. The real Tuscany is about making the best use of a small space. The real Tuscany is about embracing life, it's about authenticity, it's about quality over quantity in everything. There's no theme here, there's no attempt to recreate a magazine spread or a dream house from some Developer's unimaginative mind. The truth of the matter is that unless you can see the Arno river pass under your dining room window, no amount of clutter will give you a "Tuscany dining room."

Man! That room up there burns my eyes. Please don't do something like that in your home. Sorry to be so brutal but what you're asking is for some kind of permission to turn your home into a miniature Las Vegas and that's something I refuse to go along with.

Listen, your dining room and indeed your whole home should tell your story, not somebody else's. The things you decorate with should be your things and if you're going to buy a dining table, buy one that's classic enough and made well enough that you can pass it on to your kids. Then in 50 years when it's in your daughter's home that same table will tell your story as it passes into her story. I suspect that's the feeling you're after. A feeling of permanence and a feeling of knowing you belong somewhere. That sort of thing isn't a theme, it's a way of life.

So if you want to bring some Tuscan sensibilities to your dining room, by all means do so. But study the real place, not The Venetian or the Bellagio. While you're enjoying the quick jaunt over to Florence I so strongly recommend, have your photo taken with the Duomo in the background then get it blown up and framed. Hang it in your dining room. I don't think it's possible to get more Tuscan than Florence, and it'll be yours. Authentically.

If you like bunches of dried roses, go for it. Just be sure that you like them and that you're not just adding them to advance some kind of ill-advised theme. So instead of asking me if they're appropriate, the person to ask is you. What do bunches of dried roses say about you? If you're happy with the answer than hang them by the bushel. If you're not happy with the answer then don't. If you're not sure then don't do anything. It's pretty simple really.

Early autumn re-runs: How to fold a fitted sheet

This post appeared originally on 19 January 2009. If having standards is a crime then I'm guilty.


I have occasional occasion to house and dog sit for an unnamed friend. This unnamed friend is someone I love like a brother and my life would be far less rich than it is without him in it. That said, he's not the most gifted housekeeper I've ever met and it's not an unusual thing for me to spit shine his house while he's out of town. I'm not the uptight, retentive person this is sounding like, really. But there are certain standards that until I met this unnamed friend, I assumed every one learned to maintain from childhood on.

As I said before, I'm not uptight and retentive, but there are limits to how much slovenliness I'll chalk up to a quirky personality even when I love the quirky personality like a brother. Well, the last time I was over there I opened his hall closet and saw before me a collection of wadded up sheets and pillow cases that make me shake my head even now. Someone claims no one ever told him how to fold a fitted sheet and so he just wads them into a ball and shoves them into a linen closet until he needs one. Appalling. Appalling! Am I the only one out there who had a grandmother around to impart these kinds of life skills? I mean, what kind of an adult can't fold a fitted sheet?

Without asking for a show of hands I know that there are far more unable-to-fold-a-fitted-sheet people out there than I want to know about. So in the spirit of public mindedness, I found a public service video that explains in simple, approachable terms, how to fold a fitted sheet. The video even stars a middle-aged man who's wearing a wedding ring, so that way no one's masculinity need be bruised in learning this vital life skill. So ladies and gentlemen, I now give you How To Fold a Fitted Sheet. Lights down please.

Early autumn re-runs: Whither happiness?

This post appeared originally on 29 October 2008 and it's about an article in The Atlantic I'd read on a flight home the day before. Two years later, I think about the article's points regularly. Now that's some kind of writing. I checked and the link still works.


On a related topic, and before I dive back into the world of residential design, there's a great article in this month's Atlantic magazine. Paul Bloom wrote a thought-provoking piece on the intersection of Philosophy and Psychology. I read it on my flight home to Florida the other day and it's been lodged in my fore brain ever since. Read his work here.

But what’s more exciting, I think, is the emergence of a different perspective on happiness itself. We used to think that the hard part of the question “How can I be happy?” had to do with nailing down the definition of happy. But it may have more to do with the definition of I. Many researchers now believe, to varying degrees, that each of us is a community of competing selves, with the happiness of one often causing the misery of another. This theory might explain certain puzzles of everyday life, such as why addictions and compulsions are so hard to shake off, and why we insist on spending so much of our lives in worlds —like TV shows and novels and virtual-reality experiences—that don’t actually exist.