I detest the phrase premium content. Like much of the poorly thought-out jargon descended from news management gurus and consultants, its definition lies in the mind of the speaker. It’s not alone: For example, product has replaced news as the reason for a journalism organization’s existence. Add repurposing to the list of agenda-hiding argot that hides a rarely disclosed intent.
I’m not sure what premium content is. But I’m dead sure I won’t be able to see it unless I’m willing to pay for it. That’s one yardstick for the premium goods: stuff you’re willing for pay for online vs. stuff that’s offered free. But that definition doesn’t tell you what you’ll get when you decide to buy. Continue reading
I am not, ordinarily, afraid of rising early. However, when it is winter and 4am and one of the mizzly-drizzly-dawns where the fine rain settles into every warm crevasse, nestling down and sapping all heat, it better be a good reason.
This particular morning I had risen, dressed and driven to the centre of Cape Town with a few rolls of black and white film, my old Ricoh SLR camera and its 50 mm lens. I went in search of photographs for an advanced hand-printing course I was doing at the Cape Town School of Photography.
I have always loved entrepreneurs; their bravery, compassion and ambition. In every transaction between buyer and seller there is a single moment of intense intimacy. When two strangers connect as they exchange cash for goods. Continue reading