Former Finance Minister Mangala Samaraweera, found his own way of contributing towards Sri Lanka’s digital economy. He no longer has political power to drive fiscal changes. So he put his performance skills to use. As Maharaj Mangala he declared war against a Tik Tok ban in a business promotional video by popular YouTubers Wasthi. The 32 minute video, ‘Light Upali’, earlier named ‘Aloka Upali’ mimicking the popular movie of nationalistic flavor ‘Aloko Udapadi’, went viral. Just two weeks after the release, the video has received more than 3.3 million views.
Wasthi Productions are a great example of content creators riding the digital economy wave. They started small, just two boys making videos. That era is the past. Today a total of 70 Wasthi videos have been watched 160 million times, making an average 2.6 million views per video, according to Playboard, the Korean rating site. Over 1.3 million people have subscribed to the Wasthi Productions’ YouTube channel.
Light Upali’s success is because it fits a proven formula that makes instant hits in Sri Lanka. The political flavor mixed with inserts of social media events appeals to the Sri Lankan urban audience. Rural audiences are not far behind. But a safe guess for the second largest audience in this case will be the diaspora – in Western and Middle Eastern countries. Wasthi have used simple Sinhala (sometimes ‘Singlish’) ensuring the engagement of native Tamil speakers as well.
Wasthi isn’t an exception. Sandesh Bandara is another example. His entire professional life depends on two things: music videos and YouTube. In his own domain Sandesh has surpassed even Wasthi. His music video “Nilvan Muhudu Theerea” has been viewed over 10 million times; “Hana Shafa – Sinhala Mashup” 10 million times and “Ithin Ko” 12 million times or more. Sandesh also remains the only online music video director whose creations, receives such wide reach.
I posted a few questions for him and the following are his responses.
On his success: “I select great music. If I am not satisfied with a song, I never go through with it irrespective of the prospective return. I request the singer to present me with another piece of music. A music video is a mix of visuals and music.”
On how he gets paid: “Usually a singer or a production house would approach me. I get paid but not always satisfactorily. Not all singers can approach music video producers. If I like the work I may even drop the price. I have to make some sacrifices to make my work popular. Popularity matters in this profession. I would be out of business overnight, if my videos don’t get likes and views.”
On how his clients make money from videos: “In several ways. All my clients seek fame – individually and for their music. Popular songs make popular ringtones – one source of income. Famous singers are hired often. For many of my clients, it’s their debut. Finally, YouTube views make channels popular and can be monetised. So it’s a sound business model.”
One whether he makes millions: “Not so far. This business model is new to Sri Lanka and our market size is limited. Our returns are also limited.”
Despite the relatively low returns, Sandesh sticks with it. He could have invested his time in traditional media and advertising, where earnings may be substantially better. So why? Is it because he figures new media is the next big thing? (He is in his thirties)
May be. May be not. He realises the days of traditional media are numbered. He wants to work where media consumption is greatest.
Achinthya Amarakoon, is an artist. Second generation comic artist – that is how she introduces herself. The first generation, in the ‘70s and early ‘80s, created their own revolution. Comic magazines were part of popular culture of the time, with some outselling daily newspapers. During the nineties comic magazine sales plummeted. Now, two decades later, comic magazines are history. Their second coming takes place in a different medium, for a very different audience and in a different format.
Achinthya, following her first long-running Sinhalese manga Sakkai Muniyai, now sketches the webtoon ‘The Fluffy Love’ – a teen gay love story. The theme is one aspect that differentiates her work from early comics like Saratmadhu, Daya Rajapaksa and Bandula Harischandra – none of whom would have selected such a storyline.
Despite the very Sri Lankan settings of the story, Achinthya’s audience is largely international. Fans translate her original strip to other languages including French, Spanish and Portuguese. The number of translations is rising as are the subscribers, which recently hit the 60,000 mark.
Ardent fans also comment on her work, to which she responds. None of these comic strips are static. Twenty first century audiences look for interactivity and personalization. Online, comics no longer follow the horizontal layout as they did in newspapers; they flow vertically to fit mobile screens. Achinthya, or ‘Tahi’ as this Sri Lankan born Canadian resident artist calls herself, follows these new rules of the digital economy – critical for online success.
For those who are not familiar with the term, ‘webtoons’ are webcomics or ‘manhwas’ published online. The Korean web portal Daum created the first webtoon service in 2003. These services regularly publish webtoons which are available for free. While ten million Koreans still opt to read comic books, 3 million have paid access to manhwas. In recent years, webtoons have gained popularity in Western markets, rivaling Japanese manga.
Achinthya’s business model: a comic that earns 40,000 page views and 1,000 subscribers in YouTube can apply for its Ad Revenue Sharing Program. Once approved, the comic artist gets paid $100 a month.
Despite their successes, early riders also face obstacles. The first one is return
The other method for revenue is through Patreon accounts.
Through this, fans (called ‘patrons’) can reward an artist of their choice. “I initially planned for a monthly income of Rs 40,000”, writes Achinthya in her Facebook page, “but now I earn Rs 70,000”– a substantial amount for a relative beginner.
Despite their successes, early riders also face obstacles. The first one is return. They don’t get what they deserve. That’s the price they pay for working in a small market where digital adoption is still low. Without passion, their efforts would be counted as failures. Successes in the digital economy are based on numbers – it takes millions of views. Sri Lanka is no China. Attracting even a thousand people is a challenge.
Only way out for digital creators, it appears, is to expand the market. This is the path Japanese and Korean content developers took. Their audience is global.
Of the three content creators, only Achinthya attempts that, albeit with limited success. To excel in that domain, content developers must not only operate in English (or any other widely used foreign language) but map their work to a foreign culture. That’s a challenging undertaking. How fast Sri Lanka produces will decide if Sri Lanka can make a mark in digital content, as Japanese and Korean artists have already done.