YouTube Fandom May Not Be Taken Very Seriously, But It’s An Extraordinary World
A look inside Australia's first VidCon.
On a stretch of brushed concrete the size of a soccer field, two teenagers sit close together. They’re alone in this huge space, away from the crowds. Knees touching, they talk quietly, laughing and painting each other’s nails. This moment of friendship, oblivious to the backdrop of surreal, industrial emptiness, sums up the vibe of Australia’s first ever VidCon.
VidCon is the world’s largest convention for online video. It’s been around in the US since 2010 but this was its first year in Melbourne.
These two laughing while painting each other's nails summarises the vibe of VidCon: friendship despite the backdrop of weird emptiness. pic.twitter.com/DPH75PH4jj
— Alexandra Neill (@alexbneill) September 9, 2017
The event is divided into three streams: “Community” is targeted at fans, “Creator” suits those making video, and “Industry” is pitched at corporate tech workers. It feels as though three quite separate conventions are happening at once, across the Melbourne Convention Centre’s many floors. The ground-level Community halls are full of teenagers and parents, the Creator sessions host twenty-somethings keen to break into YouTube, and the Industry crowd (who are a decade older again) are networking in the highest corner of the building.
One Industry attendee tells me that it feels like “hanging out with the vampires”.
Everywhere you look there are people talking into cameras. Occasionally squeals will erupt, signalling that someone famous is nearby. In the cavernous expo hall, YouTube Red — YouTube’s paid subscription service — gives out fidget spinners and selfie lights while Simon & Schuster sell memoirs written by YouTubers (a surprisingly expansive publishing genre). Taking up a large amount of floor space is, inexplicably, a giant jumping castle.
In a different part of the building, past numerous security guards who carefully check passes, there are cooperates lunches of tiny sandwiches and chilled dispensers of iced tea. Even more exclusive is the brightly coloured lounge for invited guests – which I catch glimpses of on social media – with its Instagram-sponsored giant snow globe, filled with silver confetti.
Despite the huge audiences some of these channels have, because YouTube exists in a cultural bubble outside the mainstream it can be difficult for online video to be taken seriously. Success is based on popularity — as an expert says in one session, “views equal career” — and that popularity tends to rest heavily on the shoulders of individuals.
All weekend, when I talk to people from the Industry or Creator tracks, they roll their eyes at the “cult of celebrity”. Fans are spoken of as passive consumers, swept up in the hysteria. Especially from those trying to break into YouTube, there is a resentment toward the overzealous enthusiasm directed at those lucky enough to be in the upper echelons.
I talk to a group of young women, waiting in line to see dodie, a young YouTuber and musician who is among the biggest international stars at the convention. The meet-and-greet doesn’t start for another half an hour but the four of them have already been here for some time. They tell me their favourite thing about VidCon is being surrounded by people who like the same things that they do.
As we are chatting, a girl in front turns around. “Do you mind if I talk to you?” she asks nervously, “I’m here by myself.” The others greet her warmly and loop her into our conversation.
It is easy to view these meet-and-greet lines as the embodiment of the vain, fame-obsessed millennial, as crowds of young fans wait hours for a few minutes with a “celebrity”. But when I ask the little group about the appeal of these events, their answers surprise me. They tell me it’s a chance to humanise these people they admire. They are able to stand in front of them, to thank them and to make them real.
“It lets you see them as people,” one explains. “It lets you take them off that pedestal.”
In his opening address to the Industry stream, VidCon founder Hank Green stresses how important it is to engage meaningfully with the young audience of online video. “It’s hard to find people who see the intrinsic value in these platforms,” he says. “Find those experts who don’t really know they’re experts, who think that they’re just fans.”
I watched some of them meet for the first time, and now they are friends.
But I can’t help wondering how this ethos is reflected in the neatly divided spaces of VidCon, sectioned off so that Industry need never meet Community. One Industry attendee tells me that it feels like “hanging out with the vampires” as the Industry sessions discuss how to bleed profit from the audience below.
When asked what his advice for YouTube is, beauty vlogger Patrick Starrr says simply: “make a friend”. The most meaningful parts of the event seem to happen outside official spaces. All weekend I see people finding other people, introducing themselves to strangers, starting conversations. I go to an unofficial meet-up for educators, who sit in a café and passionately discuss educational videos until the waitress starts packing up chairs around us.
I return three hours later when the girls are finally at the front of the line. One by one, they get their minute with dodie. When their turn is over, each girl immediately springs into action to support the next in line – they take photos for each other, hold each others’ bags, hug happily. In that moment I am overwhelmed, watching these young women share this experience. I watched some of them meet for the first time, hours before, and now they are friends.
@sheribubble I'm sad we didn't get to meet up at VidCon but hopefully we can meet soon another way! ?
— LIZZIΞ ☾ (@itslizzieh) September 11, 2017
Suddenly I can see the appeal of spending three hours waiting in a line, together with people who care about the same things that you do. While high above, experts and would-be experts discuss how to leverage their viewership, down below the community carries on without them.
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Featured image: Flickr/Gage Skidmore/YouTube/Wikimedia Commons
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Alexandra Neill is a writer and critic. She blogs at alexandraneill.com and tweets at @alexbneill.