I recently (well, perhaps not *that* recently) realised how much I love Steampunk - or, to be more precise - the Steampunk aesthetic. For those of you not familiar with Steampunk, it started as a literary genre; an off-shoot of early science fiction. Think Jules Verne and H.G. Wells and you'll be on the right track. The basic premise is an alternate history, most often one in which Charles Babbage actually did complete his Analytical Engine - a programmable mechanical computer. The stories then go on to envisage a world in which Victorian Era Britain had access to the vast computational power afforded by this technological breakthrough, and a world where the industrial and digital (though, in this case, perhaps digital is the wrong word) revolutions occurred at the same time. Recurring elements of these stories include swashbuckling airship pirates, mad scientists and clockwork automata, and are as much explorations of an alternate history as they are of human creativity and imagination.
What really strikes me about Steampunk, though, is the appreciation of aesthetic value that has grown around the sub-culture; focused as much on the aesthetic appeal of an object as on its function, though never letting the function become secondary to its appearance. There is also a strong sense of non-conformity: "things don't have to look ugly just because most of them do". The more die-hard members of the sub-culture embrace a DIY take on this ideal, and reject the mass produced plastic monstrosities we are so used to in our daily lives. As an example, just look at this keyboard, created using old typewriter keys.
The core tenets of the Steampunk aesthetic are that functional everyday objects need not compromise on beauty, and true craftsmanship is laudable. Here the (semi-) historical nature of Steampunk comes into its own: items from the Victorian Era have a much greater aesthetic value than their modern counterparts; and it is clear when looking at, say, an old pocket watch that whoever made it put a great deal of effort into its production. The result is an object its creator can be proud of, and this pride in creative accomplishments plays a great part in Steampunk culture. Don't for a moment make the mistake, however, of thinking that this pride manifest itself as a protective attitude towards the crafted goods. On the contrary, not only are the creators happy to show off their wares at the drop of a top hat, but they will often share their blueprints and instructions among the community of "makers" that, thanks to the Internet, has reached global proportions. In this community, someone copying your work, or using it as a basis in their own innovative creation, is certainly not seen as plagiarism or theft, but as flattery and recognition. Here the Steampunk community (and, indeed, the wider community of sharing artists and creators) has a lot in common with the Hacker sub-culture - a value system based around the sharing of information and creation of useful tools for the benefit of all (and, let us not forget, for the sheer fun of it!). Perhaps this similarity is why I feel such a strong connection to Steampunk - or perhaps it's just because top hats, vests and brass goggles make such wonderfully eccentric attire that I cannot help but admire it.
What really strikes me about Steampunk, though, is the appreciation of aesthetic value that has grown around the sub-culture; focused as much on the aesthetic appeal of an object as on its function, though never letting the function become secondary to its appearance. There is also a strong sense of non-conformity: "things don't have to look ugly just because most of them do". The more die-hard members of the sub-culture embrace a DIY take on this ideal, and reject the mass produced plastic monstrosities we are so used to in our daily lives. As an example, just look at this keyboard, created using old typewriter keys.
The core tenets of the Steampunk aesthetic are that functional everyday objects need not compromise on beauty, and true craftsmanship is laudable. Here the (semi-) historical nature of Steampunk comes into its own: items from the Victorian Era have a much greater aesthetic value than their modern counterparts; and it is clear when looking at, say, an old pocket watch that whoever made it put a great deal of effort into its production. The result is an object its creator can be proud of, and this pride in creative accomplishments plays a great part in Steampunk culture. Don't for a moment make the mistake, however, of thinking that this pride manifest itself as a protective attitude towards the crafted goods. On the contrary, not only are the creators happy to show off their wares at the drop of a top hat, but they will often share their blueprints and instructions among the community of "makers" that, thanks to the Internet, has reached global proportions. In this community, someone copying your work, or using it as a basis in their own innovative creation, is certainly not seen as plagiarism or theft, but as flattery and recognition. Here the Steampunk community (and, indeed, the wider community of sharing artists and creators) has a lot in common with the Hacker sub-culture - a value system based around the sharing of information and creation of useful tools for the benefit of all (and, let us not forget, for the sheer fun of it!). Perhaps this similarity is why I feel such a strong connection to Steampunk - or perhaps it's just because top hats, vests and brass goggles make such wonderfully eccentric attire that I cannot help but admire it.
