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‘Pedro’s hungry’

A captivating, first-hand video experience of just what it means to feed a famished puppy:

Some of the behind-the-scenes, tell-all interviews behind the film:

And the touching visual, sans owner commentary:

Jessica Dimmock’s ‘The Ninth Floor’

The chilling, nails-on-a-chalkboard-like sound of strings open “The Ninth Floor,” an intensely emotional look at some of the 20 to 30 drug addicts who shared a ninth-floor apartment overlooking the ritzy 5th Avenue in Manhattan.

Any discomfort caused by the initial screeches does anything but disappear as eye-popping  images of bloody arms, submerged needles, punctured tongues, and several somewhat frightening cats.

Joe Smith with cat.

Joe Smith, pictured above, was the lessee of the apartment. Jessica Dimmock, a student at the International Center of Photography at the time of the project, identified the de facto landlord a man who was “once a part of the fabled New York art scene of the 1970s and ’80s.” During the course of the three-year endeavor, the apartment spiraled into something of a madhouse as Smith’s guests began replacing rent with deposits of drugs and drinks. Amid the descent, Dimmock achieved unfettered access to the debauchery of the apartment on the ninth floor, although according to her it was less of an achievement of skill than it was a waiting game. “The most important lesson I learned — and a lesson I’m trying to teach myself again — is that this takes a lot of time,” she said. “You say, ‘Why don’t I just go out and do it again?’” The answer to that question, she said, can be found by watching the slide again. “It is a lot of work.”

Intimate access.

Before long, Smith landed himself in the hospital, and the visitors found themselves evicted. Although what happened to the artist-turned-addict godfather of the group is unknown, Dimmock did make the effort to keep up with some of the former dwellers of the apartment on the ninth floor. She invites viewers to share in the raw, sometimes painful experiences of the group with slight dramatic music; overpowering photos; and bare, honest voiceover. The interviews are no more dramatic than when Dimmock allows their voices the full attention of the stage, sans photos for up to eight seconds at a time. “A lot of the multimedia stuff was actually an afterthought,” Dimmock said. “It all started when I began studying photography in New York. As I was walking one night with my camera, some guy approached me. He was gregarious, craving attention, suggested I photograph him, and let me know he was a cocaine dealer.”

After meeting the inhabitants of the ninth floor through her drug-dealing subject, Dimmock decided to pursue the project, which culminated in a book published by Contrasto. It was her supportive publisher, Dimmock said, that encouraged the accompanying audio slideshow.

Once gone from the apartment, the former roommates paths diverge for the most part, and Dimmock catches the most intriguing moments on film, from a mother smiling at her recovering daughter to the daughter, smiling at her relapsed veins.

Jessie's mother, smiling.

Jessie, smiling

Using images such as those above, Dimmock was able to illustrate the wildly contrasting, sometimes complementary sensations felt by addicts and their families.

Evocative, though not necessarily a cautionary tale; brave, though certainly not praiseworthy, the show avoids the common stereotypes associated with the drug story. Nonetheless, whether it was a conscious decision of Dimmock’s or a natural tendency of the drug story, a bit of redemption manages to round out the end.

“There was a time when I was watching it a lot, and it kind of made me squirm,” Dimmock said. Now, when she looks it over again, she said the images of Jessie in the hospital are what give her pause. “She was creeping toward death,” Dimmock said. “She was just in a miserable place.” The results weren’t so dreary for all the subjects involved, however.

“It lets you really see that human beings are inherently good,” said Dionn, a main subject of the story and the father of a healthy infant girl. “We learn bad. I mean, there’s nothing bad in this little girl. She’s just nothing but good. Right?” Dionn asks as shots of his young daughter’s smile light the screen. Dommick allows  little Matilda’s laugh to respond. “huh huh.”

Matilda.

Opinion, for better or worse

As journalism finds its new form, more writers work for free. It can be hard to land a spot on the White House Press Corps without press credentials, but spouting off about someone else’s coverage requires little more than an Internet connection. Many of the reporters who still have work in newsrooms are being asked to blog, tweet and link throughout the day, lessening the time they are able to devote to reporting, and adding to the influx of opinion on the Web.

Tim Gleason, dean of the University of Oregon School of Journalism and Communication, commented in The Oregonian that while the transition of the industry presents an exciting time for journalists, it also alters the balance between objectivity and opinion. “The standard of fact-based reporting has been corrupted, and even though there is much to praise in the interactive participatory online world, we must all work much harder to determine the truth of the information we’re receiving,” he wrote.

Digging through rants, raves and rambles to find the kind of unbiased reporting that makes for quality journalism might be a worrisome proposition, but the consequences of additional opinions on the Web doesn’t stop there. In the worlds of sales, marketing, public relations, and search, among other places, opinions are valuable.

In a thought-provoking look at the near future of an emerging field known as sentiment analysis, The New York Times notes that “for many businesses, online opinion has turned into a kind of virtual currency that can make or break a product in the marketplace.” The use of sentiment analysis to harvest and capitalize from opinions raises some questions. How will critics, reporters, bloggers, or even casual tweeters respond to their work being used to sell products or services? Is the line between paid positive reviewers and independent reporters blurring? And which is taller, the moral high ground an independent columnist or reviewer stands on, or the new SUV courtesy of sponsored-opinion checks?