The Revised Artist
A Study into the Influence of the Computer on Art Making and Perception
Jelmer Witkamp, 0301027 12/1/2007 Creative Development ’06‐‘07 Onder begeleiding van: Lisa Janssen & Anne Nigten The Revised Artist
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Contents
Introduction ...... 5
‐chapter 1‐ Towards the Object of Art ...... 7
I – Art as Experience ...... 7
II ‐ Art and Theories ...... 10
III ‐ Art in Practice ...... 12
IV ‐ Art as Rhizome ...... 14
V ‐ The Artwork, not the Artist ...... 21
‐chapter 2‐ Artists always find a way ...... 23
I ‐ The Creative Machine ...... 23
II ‐ Neen ...... 25
III ‐ Cynthia Beth Rubin ...... 28
IV ‐ Harold Cohen ...... 31
V ‐ Elements ...... 35
‐chapter 3‐ Back to the Drawing board ...... 37
I – Continuity in Practice ...... 37
II – The Artist’s Toolbox ...... 38
III – Virtual Identity ...... 39
IV – [Re]Vision Machine ...... 41
Conclusion Smoothening the Theoretical Landscape ...... 42
Bibliography ...... 46
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This essay deals with two domains of our daily lives which have taken a central position with a sense of wonder on the one hand and a sense of natural necessity on the other; art and computer technology. Although the invention and initial aim of the computer are quite clear, those of art are still quite unknown. As art seems to have existed since before the beginning of recorded history, we cannot but speculate the motivation of those early artists. Even the question of whether the Lascaux cave paintings should be considered as art, is a question far too complicated to answer. Westerners tend to equate the earliest bit of our recorded history, which can be found in the Mediterranean area, with the origin of civilization. I am not in the position to contest such statements, but people have a more general tendency to compare that which is unknown to that which is known, if only to create a starting point for their assessment. Perhaps the known/unknown differentiation, which is often fundamental in the analytical method of theoreticians, has come to alienate theory from practice further. Theoreticians trail behind artistic experimentation with objects and technology used as tools and media.
If people judge their new surroundings based on the contextual framework built up on their old or current surroundings, then I am bound to do the same. I am male, and therefore identify more easily with my writing when I use ‘he’ or ‘him’ when I need to refer to people in general. Although I am well aware of the values attached to using masculine words as opposed to feminine or neutral words, it is hard to avoid that tension and there are always other elements one can identify with when reading a text. It is the same with art; there is always something one can relate to, whether it is positive or negative. If not, one is likely to hunt for something until he finds it. I like to envision the first theoreticians and critics having to deal with new media art in the 1960’s as being in a similar situation; the only thing they could do is relate it to what was known already. However, this already turbulent artistic period did not offer much to hold on to or build upon, except for an effort to challenge the contemporary concept of art. At least Pop‐artists like Claes Oldenburg and Roy Lichtenstein remained committed to sculpture and painting, but what about Nam June Paik using television not only as an image but a medium and material at the same time? Or the experimental audio‐visualization of John Whitney Sr.? Although a contemporary native Australian work of art does not share the same context as a Western work, we still categorize both objects under the notion of art. I do not wish to deny different cultures their own distinct concept or understanding of art, but in the light of
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globalization and cultural diversity it appears necessary to express the commonalities, rather than the differences. My question is thus how all these different objects relate to this concept of ‘art’ and, through that, to each other. In researching this question, I have taken into account recent developments in the arts industry, especially the increase in public and academic interest in the creative industry (in design, but also gaming and technology‐related creativity). Thus, more precisely, the aim of my research is to understand the theoretical implications the acceptance of the computer raises for the traditional (pre‐new media) understanding of art. Firstly I will assess the historical context of the academic search for a validation of the existence of art, ending with the discussion of influential thinkers of the New Media era. Then I will illustrate the new media art practice through three different artist perspectives. My selection of artists has primarily been based on the nature of their work rather than their current popularity in the field. Lastly, I will turn to art practice to assess the theoretical framework and evaluate the implications, followed by the discussion of a possible solution.
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I – Art as Experience During the 20th century, western art has undergone more fundamental transformations than in the two thousand preceding years. For centuries, artistic expression took the form of music, poetry, sculpture, painting or theatre but since the dawn of the 20th century, artists have sought to defy the application of such categories; painting and sculpture gave birth to assemblage, collage, and installations. Theatre, poetry and music merged into happenings and performances. The introduction of technological developments allowing for reality to be recorded (the gramophone, photography and film) perhaps led artists to question the nature of the ‘artistic effect’.1 Nevertheless, the relationship between art and object changed and even disappeared from time to time, as did the relationship between artist and artwork. The examples of such changes in artistic expression are many; the Dada movement from 1914 onwards sought purely to revolt against the establishment, organizing nonsensical performances, exhibiting the result of chance and chaos and eventually initiating the concept of the ‘ready‐ made’ (e.g. Duchamp’s Bottlerack). It successfully challenged the idea of the artist as an original artisan. Later, from the 1950s onwards, artists like Joseph Kosuth, On Kawara, Bruce Nauman and John Cage echoed this refusal of traditional artistic methods by initiating Figure 1: One and Three Chairs, 1965
1 With ‘the artistic effect’, I refer to the effect an art object has on a person as opposed to a non‐art object. An art object differs from a normal object in that the perceiver of the art object recognizes it as being an art object rather than a non‐art object. In this recognition, the perceiver assumes the object has non‐ practical qualities which might contain meaning, through which the perceiver can hope to get a deeper understanding of the object. When the perceiver finds such qualities the art experience is likely to follow.
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the Conceptual and Minimal Art movements and thereby elevating the art experience from the interpretation of a representational piece, to a mind game triggered or played in the heads of the audience. It was not so much the art experience2 that changed but rather the road towards it; instead of passively being subjected to an art experience, the audience was suddenly expected to undergo a process itself, be it one of shock (Dada), or understanding (Conceptualism). A work could consist of every shoe shop in Amsterdam (Stanley Brouwn), or a composition of three silent movements (John Cage’s 4’33). Finding such forms of creative expression in the same books and exhibition spaces as Caravaggio, Rodin and Picasso, must mean that prominent people and institutions find more than just a casual relationship between them. How can one and the same term (‘art’) be attributed to such radically different things in a justified way?
Figure 2: The Birth of Venus, c. 1485
If indeed the art world allows for different objects3 to fit that categorization they must have at least one thing in common. Let’s take two arbitrary examples of art; Joseph Kosuth’s ‘One and Three Chairs’ (fig. 1) and Sandro Botticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’(fig. 2). The one presents to us three representations of a chair: a real chair, a photographic reproduction of a chair, and an enlarged photocopy of the dictionary definition of a chair. The other is a bigger‐ than‐life painting of a female nude with long wavy blond hair and standing on a giant shell. She is surrounded by two winged human figures on the left, and a dressed woman on the right,
2 The art experience entails the experience through which it becomes clear to the perceiver that the object under consideration is not a non‐art object, but an art object. It follows directly after the recognition of an object as being a art object. As a consequence, any given object could potentially be an art object, as long as the perceiver recognizes it as such and has an art experience. 3 Here, and with my use of the term ‘object’ in general, I do not refer solely to material things, but any man‐made, structured entity which can be presented to an audience at a given point in time.
8 The Revised Artist about to cover her naked body with a cloak. In both cases, the objects used have lost their practical value; you are not supposed to sit on Kosuth’s chair to take a break from walking through the exhibition that it may be part of. Neither can one use Botticelli’s canvas as a sheet of linen. What is left is to look at them; there is not much else we could do, but that would be too easy a answer to my question. Instinctively, we try to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings in order to assure that we are not in danger. To establish a level of threat, we tend to look for a relation between what we perceive and ourselves. In other words, we tend to interpret our surroundings. Standing in front of The Birth of Venus, we are inclined to interpret the (in this case) visual information, and use our emotions, reason and imagination. Ultimately, looking at the painting becomes a mental experience. This evocation of an experience is the fundamental basis of all works of art and it is nothing more than a concept. Just ‘undergoing’ at an artwork, however, is not the end of the line; the evoked experience is not arbitrary. A skillful artist knows his material and how to manipulate it in such a way that it communicates a certain concept to the fullest extent and with minimized distractions. Botticelli managed to manipulate canvas and paint into an image that celebrates the birth of the Roman goddess Venus and presents her embodied in an epitome of (contemporary) female beauty. The use of symbolic language in the image serves to instruct the viewer (e.g. the sea shell is a classical metaphor for the vulva), without distracting from what is depicted (as would happen with written hints or instructions on the canvas)4. Similarly, Kosuth presents us with three different ways to conceive of a chair, using a minimum amount of textual information. Here lies the second answer to my question about the attribution of the term ‘art’; all artworks have been produced primarily, if not solely, to evoke a particular experience5. Duchamp’s Bottle Rack might seem to defy proposed view on art because it is a mass‐ produced industrial item, designed for practical use. We must not forget, however, that Duchamp’s primary goal was exactly that; to defy the definition of art. Defying such a definition could only be done in an artistic object. By challenging the viewer’s perception of what can or cannot be art and what art should be, he successfully created a paradox only maintainable in
4 The tradition of the absence of text in the Western painting tradition is also related to the Middle Age Christian effort to teach illiterate masses about the story of the Bible. Since written words are obsolete in such a setting, elements of the story had to be visually accessible. Perhaps this instills the concept of interpreting pictures in Western culture although, of course, this phenomenon is not exclusive to Western culture. 5 Even when the artist claims to have no intention of evoking the same experience in every perceiver, he will always have the intention of evoking some kind of alteration in the mind of the perceiver during the perception of the presented work. To deny such an intention beats the purpose of presenting a work to an audience.
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art. He could have written a treatise or manifesto, or produced a ‘poor’ painting but that would not have had the same effect on the audience as presenting an ordinary industrial object. Duchamp merely added a context (in this case, other art works), in which his object gains momentum and becomes a powerful defiant statement. Bottle Rack is modern art’s paradox. Like One and Three Chairs, it is the mental process of interpretation that turns the object into art. Bottle Rack, One and Three Chairs and The Birth of Venus are objects to which has been attached a certain concept which is, in turn, attained through its context. From this follows that someone has consciously created this context, or at least the link between concept and object. This translation from concept to object can be described as the artistic process. Many an artist or critic has claimed that the presented work of art ‘grows’ during this process. That is to say, when the artist starts the creative process, the end result is unknown to the artist himself. Yet, it is usually crystal clear when a work is finished. The artist thus goes through a process of familiarization, through which he discovers how the object‐to‐be‐made communicates a concept‐to‐be‐shared best, and what those two elements are. The process can, like the concept and the object, take on any form or duration6.
II - Art and Theories
Artistic expression has been subjected to various heated and long‐lasting debates. This is a trend that continues to exist. Even when separating the popular from the academic discussions, the art experience (i.e. the experience evoked by, issuing from or coinciding with the exposure of a work of art to a certain audience) seems to be fed by personal conditions rather than resting on cultural conventions; the cultural/intellectual ‘elite’ and the working class have quite a different concept of art (e.g. in referring to pop performers like Britney Spears or 50 Cent as artists). As art practice in itself does not seem to suffer from this debate, its relevance to the production of artistic objects is questionable. Therefore, my use of the term ‘works of art’ refers to each and any object, act, situation or utterance which has been referred to as being a work of art. This bears great resemblance to Dickie’s theory that ‘anything is art when a member of the art world proclaims it to be’7, but I do not wish to limit myself to his definition, as the phrase ‘member of the art world’ already is vague and arguable. At this stage of my argument it may be taken as bold as it appears. The term ‘object’ may be interpreted as a confined entity in any dimension, including time. It can therefore apply to physical things, but also performances, happenings, conceptual and virtual artworks, etc.
6 Although this has only been accepted since the abandoning of the strict pre‐modern artistic tradition. 7 Dickie 1983, pp. 57‐64.
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Indeed, Dickie is one of many philosophers and theoreticians, who have attempted to define art starting from a certain perspective, be it historical, institutional, perceptional or genre‐based. The problem with such an approach is that hardly any such theories withstand the test of time. Consequentially, art practice is bound to generate works which are generally accepted as being art, while theory begs to differ. Since a particular theory is, by nature, static (it has been formulated, written and published at a certain point in time) and practice functions by the grace of time‐based changes, practice is hardly ever outdated, unlike theory. For example. Dickie (The New Institutional Theory of Art), Danto (The Artworld), Levinson (Defining Art Historically) and Wollheim (The Work of Art as Object) have all provided us with insightful theories concerning ‘what art is’, but no theory still holds today. Walter Benjamin, an influential thinker in the field of art and technology, commented in 1936 on the negative influence that mechanical reproduction had on the aura of an artwork. Although he does not provide a clear definition of the word ‘aura’, we are led to believe it is an atmosphere surrounding a particular object, enabling it to be perceived as an authentic work of art, which can physically be traced back, chemically or administratively, to the studio of the artist where it was produced. As the photograph and the film do not exist as original, authentic objects, the aura is tampered with. This forces a crisis in art, as practice has gone where theory cannot follow it. This crisis shows itself in art practice through the l’art pour l’art doctrine, denying the categorization of art by subject matter.8 The acceptance of film as an artistic medium exacerbates this crisis by taking away the historical imperative of the art object. Despite this persistent theoretical crisis, the art world has not ceased to develop itself, adapting and reacting continuously to the ever‐changing world artists are faced with. However, theorists such as Lev Manovich perpetuate the idea of the art crisis as new media find their way into the art world, leaving the academic art audience with an uncertainty as to what is left to be substracted from the application criteria of artistic objects. Accordingly, institutional settings such as museums have been losing ground, whilst artists and audience resort more and more (and more willingly) to festivals and similar events. Artists and critics have somehow always managed to distinguish art from non‐art, even when the difference between the two seemed too vague to measure. If the artistic is justifiable, that is to say, truly useful and valuable to society, the only validation for the incidents of the 20th century art world would be that theoreticians have been looking through the wrong keyhole. If the artistic did not prove to be useful and/ or valuable to society, our capitalist supply‐on‐demand system would steer towards an increasing disinterest in it and a persistent decrease of governmental, educational, and
8 Benjamin 1935, IV
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financial support. Instead, there is an increase of interest in art from the financial sector9, artistic events are sponsored and sometimes even organized by the government, and cultural festivals do not only increase in number and scale, but also in professionalism and financial independence. Moreover, there is an increase in educational programs in museums, schools and other facilities10. If we wish to define the ‘artistic’, perhaps the answer lies in the conceptual space between the artist, the artwork and the audience. Perhaps it is purely the art experience (of the audience) which counts in assessing the artistic value of any entity or situation. To assess this issue, we must first define these three elements; the artist, the artwork and the audience. However, the use of such terms already implies that these are elements, retrievable in any artistic encounter or experience. For now, I ask you to consider these terms in the broadest context imaginable.
III - Art in Practice What is an artist? In the Western tradition, the artist was seen as a craftsman who manually produced a certain artifact (thus maintaining the importance of an authentic, physical object as Benjamin argued in 1936). However, more successful artists such as Rembrandt and Leonardo Da Vinci worked with numerous assistants, causing a problem with this concept of the artist as the craftsman behind the artifact. When we broaden that concept, an artist becomes ‘someone who consciously goes through a creative process (making decisions leading up to a satisfying end product), the result of which being something which is to be considered first and foremost for its artistic value’ (cf. a pragmatic solution). In the medieval period, this value was often found in the subliminal or divine, which in the Renaissance shifted to the beautiful. Since the age of mechanical reproduction, this has slowly changed towards a wider scope of psychological effects, ranging from awareness to shock. However, even when we would state that the artwork is the result of a conscious process aimed at and leading to that work of art11, it would be questionable whether Marcel Duchamp, Vincent Van Gogh and Andy Warhol could be accepted as artists. Duchamp’s shock‐art was more influenced by chance and adolescent rebellion than by conscious decision‐making. Van Gogh wanted his works to ‘reclaim what had once belonged to religion’12 and Warhol blended the
9 Companies, banks and insurance firms such as UBS, Deutsche Bank and Rabobank are known to invest and acquire artworks for their constant financial value. 10 For example the Dutch CKV‐vouchers program, which grants High School students of a certain age group an annual budget to spend exclusively on the cultural sector, ranging from movie theaters to museums. 11 A theory not too dissimilar from M. Beardsley in An Aesthetic Definition of Art (1983). 12 See the BBC‐series Simon Schama’s The Power of Art, 2006
12 The Revised Artist image of the bohemian artist with American capitalism to free art from its elitist presumptions. In addition, the genre of Outsider Art13 could not be justifiable; the doodles of a truly insane or delusional person are as much the result of a conscious creative process as the drawings of a child. Nevertheless, the work of Henry Darger or the Dutch Willem van Genk moves us much in the same way as paintings by Picasso or Monet and sometimes the boundary between madness and sanity is too vague to define, as with Salvador Dalí. In practice, it is the end product which needs to astound us and suspend reality, regardless of who made it, and in what way. This brings us to the artwork; a visit to any contemporary or modern art museum teaches even the most oblivious visitor that ‘paintings & sculptures’ does no longer cover the content of a museum. Although indeed many if not the majority of the items on display often are ‘classical’ types of visual art (i.e. Paintings, drawings, sculpture), it is not possible to ignore the installation and consorts. If a work of art can take any form, then what distinguishes it from an everyday object? The theoreticians would say ‘theory’, the artists perhaps ‘context,’ the critics ‘significance’, but neither of these are measurable qualities nor are they sufficiently available to the average museum audience for whom, we may assume, the visit made remains satisfying. The term ‘average museum visitor’ perhaps requires some explanation. Aside from the obligatory school excursions, I would like to make a distinction between the art enthusiast, who is perhaps familiar with ’art’ and expects an exhibition to answer and broaden his/her understanding of art within the confines of what is already understood, and the member of the ‘in‐crowd’, who is more aware of what is going on in the art scene and seeks to find validation of this awareness, or believes to be able to judge the quality of the exhibition on a deeper level. Because the latter has extended knowledge, theory and context are more likely to be available knowledge. When speaking of the average visitor, I thus refer to the art enthusiast. What is available to the average visitor to establish the context of an artwork (apart from the work as presented in the museum) are the little pieces of text which accompany many art works (along with the title, year of production and artist. However, these texts hardly mention the creative process and focus instead on what can be seen or provide contextual information of a biographical or historical nature. If this apparently suffices to satisfy the visitor, to submerge the visitor into the work for even a short moment, it is not at all of any importance in what shape this experience is provided. The art work is simply a hand, protruding into our space, inviting the visitor into the world of the art experience. The better an artwork succeeds in
13 Outsider Art (a term coined by Roger Cardinal in 1972) or Art Brut (Jean Dubuffet), is the term used to refer to art made outside the boundaries of official culture and ranges from self‐taught to institutionalized art makers.
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doing so, the more successful it will be, simply because it will be more captivating, either in quality (the experience itself) or quantity (the number of convinced visitors). Then what is the role of the audience? Indeed, the audience needs to enter into dialogue with the work in order to have the art experience, but it remains unclear how far this dialogue can extend into the reality of the audience. A painting or piece of music is a very straightforward ‘inviting hand’. On the other hand, an installation or happening is quite a bit more submersive, not to mention invisible theatre, which completely blurs the boundary between the space of the audience and the domain of the artwork. The audience is invited to undergo the art experience and is the ultimate judge of a work. However, the audience is at the same time an uncontrollable group of people, the majority of which can be assumed to be either the average museum visitor or even less familiar with art. Their understanding of a work of art is enabled not only through cultural values but also through the personal state of mind and social context. The professional sector of the artist is, next to politics, a rare, if not the only sector which functions like this.14 From school children and tourists to befriended artists and critics, anyone is capable to undergo the art experience to some extent. This points towards an important clue concerning the ‘nature’ of art; that which we call a work of art is indeed merely an example of the workings of art. What we refer to when we speak of art cannot be found in the object itself; it is exactly how it works (i.e. through exposure to an audience) and what it does (i.e. moving that audience on a psychological level), which makes a ‘work’ of art.
IV - Art as Rhizome If the core of art resides in the evocation of an experience in reaction to an object, then what is left of the artist as the credited (and crucial) creator of that object? Apparently, it does not require a genius to produce an ingenious work of art, nor does the artist need to be an excellent craftsman. The work does not require autobiographical content, nor does it need to be original (unprecedented) as long as it ‘works’. Although these bold premises seem to be more applicable to modern art, they are not disputed by historical art practice. As mentioned before, practice and theory have disagreed on premises like these in the past which, however, is not at all
14 Note that Benjamin states that through mechanical reproduction, ‘the total function of art is reversed. Instead of being based on ritual, it begins to be based on another practice –politics’ (1935, p.5). Although art is being perceived by a wider range of people nowadays, it is questionable whether such politics were not already in place in the renaissance, or even the medieval period; the medieval clerics did not share the same cultural and social context as the ancient Greek sculptors who produced the statues which the clerics, according to Benjamin, viewed as ‘ominous’.
14 The Revised Artist strange since one can only analyze the data one already has, or has perceived and both sides have evolved quite a bit. In between the theoreticians and the works they analyze are the artists who produce them. The evolution of art ultimately lies in their hands as they are the creators of what will be presented to the art world (and thus to the theoreticians and critics). This places art theoreticians in a somewhat unfortunate position in the pecking order of art; theoreticians rely works of art which have to be produced by artists who in turn have to be somehow inspired to make those works of art. Although this source of inspiration could be a theory, most works of art form a reaction to a more ‘complete’ selection of the environments of the artist, including the physical, social, psychological and philosophical environments, to name a few.
Since the 1960’s, and especially since the middle of the 80’s of the last century, an artistic revolution has built momentum to an undeniable extent. The facilities provided by electronic devices involving CCTV, Video and the Personal Computer have proved so useful and inspiring, that their presence in, and influence on, the art world is now indisputable. Significantly, the computer has revolutionized the presentation and execution of artistic concepts, as well as the production of art objects and entire genres. The mass‐consumption of PCs in the western world sparked fantastic theories on the integration of the digital into the art world, especially in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Almost thirty years into the ‘future’, integration of Cybernetics with the human body (allowing direct physical access to cyberspace), remains a Cytopia. Like most of the elements of culture, the understanding and acceptance of artists and art objects as being artists or art objects , grows along with culture. This phenomenon recurs in nature; our experience is based on the ability to relate what we perceive to what we know; if we cannot even begin to grasp what we perceive, how are we to make sense of and appreciate what we experience? It is very understandable that only with the arrival of mass‐access to the internet, which finally brought digital communication and computer semiotics from the office to the home environment, this new face of art has settled down a bit. Now, some twenty years later, in an ‘iCulture’ between Web2.0 and 3.0, we can finally hope to see how New Media contribute to the changing understanding of art. With the term iCulture, I wish to emphasize the effort on all levels of society to integrate the use of new technology and, especially, the Internet and mobile media into the daily life. From the government (the Dutch DigID system) to companies (Google) and students (Facebook), all aiming at a combination of global access and publication on the one hand, and
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an expression of personal identity on the other15. It is striking that, although the terminology itself might not be as familiar as the concepts behind it, the Everyman’s daily use of new media increased his perception and understanding of new media objects to a sufficient level to enable an acceptation and appreciation of new media art. The term ‘work of art’ has thus stretched itself in art practice, whilst in 2002 theorists were still not convinced of the artistic value of digital or ‘interactive’ works of art16. The concept of on‐line art and digital avatars are integrated into the user’s daily life before theorists has figured out why and how.
The contrast between daily life and academic theory can be illustrated by Paul Virilio’s distinction between formal, dialectical and paradoxical logic.17 Formal logic presented the eighteenth century audience with a unity of reality and depicted image (the image does not depict a moment in reality as it existed in another time or place, rather someone’s imagination). Photography and film in the nineteenth century presented the audience with a visual actuality disconnected from reality, but still form, to some degree, a physical unity with that reality (the image forms a window from the present into the actuality of the depicted scene). The age of video recording and the computer presented the audience in the 20th century for the first time with a virtual reality that defies the conceptual standards of our reality. The origin of this apparent paradox lies in a concept of reality based on the ancient Greek preference of solidity (or substance) and duration over instantaneity and accident. In the reigning concept of reality, an object could not instantly appear or disappear, and was thus subjected to Euclidean geometry, Newtonian physics and linear time. In the age of paradoxical logic, time becomes the dominant factor over space; the real‐time telepresence of an object (e.g. through CCTV) enables an object to be seen at the same time in a different space (real‐time telepresence), whereas the dialectical logic only allowed an object to be seen in the same space (or reality), but at different times (real‐space telepresence). The Internet has standardized this concept of real‐time telepresence, allowing the public to become familiar with the concept, and enables one of the most important changes the Web has brought about: familiarization with the concept of rhizomorphic structures. Little lends itself more to demonstrating Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of rhizomorphic systems than the Internet. As it has no location and only takes presence through its use, the Internet exists only between users, between machines and has no body. Virtually everything is in some way linked
15 As opposed to e‐culture, which applies more to the general tendency to integrate new media technology into our lives 16 Van Gerwen, 2002 17 Virilio, 1994, p.63
16 The Revised Artist or connected to something else on multiple layers of relevance, or consistency. The possibility of being connected to anything, regardless of location and without any initial limitations has slowly but surely familiarized people with computer semantics. Commands and jargon such as copy/paste, hyperlinks and uploading‐ the familiarity of which was formerly limited to technological elite (scientific, professional as well as artistic) ‐are now part of common vocabulary. Contrary to traditional art forms, which used modes of presentation less integrated into the daily life of the layman, new media art makes use of forms of (re)presentation common to the average Western person. Moreover, the digital revolution introduced simple and accessible ways to record and edit videos, photos and audio material. This has expanded the frame of reference for many people, who can now actually relate to these modes of (re)presentation when confronted with them in an artistic setting. The integration of creativity into the public domain (especially internet) has made people more susceptible to appreciating another person’s creative efforts; net.art is fully integrated into the online experience. Whereas actual contemporary public art seems to fight for attention through its features, design or location (e.g. Marc Ruygrok’s UFO in Utrecht, visible from the train tracks, or Spuybroek & Serafijn’s D‐Tower in Doetinchem ),one can stumble upon an online artwork without any warning. This, in effect, broadens the associative value of such works and frees them from the stigma of passive subjection of traditional art. The Internet as a platform of art deterritorializes art from its elitist reputation and associates it with every arbitrary thing existing on the Web. Consequently, Web art becomes an extraordinary example of the rhizome in practice. I do not wish to say that the practice of online art can account for contemporary art practice as a whole, let alone the art practice before the invention of the Internet. It merely enables a certain aspect of art as it has existed throughout time to surface and flourish over great number of other aspects, which are all equally part of that which we call art. What is happening in art now is a culmination of a long struggle away from the classical notion of art as a token of establishment, a function of education. And then still, what is surfacing now was already present in art practice since the ancient Romans and Greeks. However, it has been freed from all possible restrictions and limitations the audience and especially financiers laid upon artists for the first time. The discussion about the nature of art has been more concerned with the limitations of art and where to artificially create boundaries
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(‘food cannot be art,’ ‘pop music is not art’)18 However, these boundaries aimed more at the definition of elitist ‘high’ art, a concept the art world is struggling to shake off. The integration of the computer in art practice could be said to create a more egalitarian art, in which the difference between ‘high’ and ‘low’ art is being replaced by a system of artistic inspiration and public appreciation in an environment where the artist as a person is overshadowed by, if not hidden behind, exactly that image the artist chooses. The fact that access to and ownership of a computer is so overwhelmingly common, makes not only the tools accessible to a great part of the population, but also makes it easier to share art – and opinion on art ‐ between users. Additionally, because the computer in itself is simultaneously the medium and part of the exhibition space, it becomes much easier for artists to show their work around the world without them having to carefully set up their work time after time. Many works of computer art consist of software rather than computers, much like theatre companies tour with their own attributes rather than a complete theatre. Furthermore, although performance artists are required to remain physically present during their performance, this not a necessity –and sometimes even possibility‐ for computer artists.
In terminology of Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus, the (computer) artist becomes a ‘line of flight’, meaning an entity with a certain momentum and direction within a certain dimension. This is the same for the (artistic) concept (a potential work of art). As the artist and the concept meet each other, they might give birth to a new line of flight, a result of the combined momentums and direction, materializing in an art object. However, the art object does not consist of either of them but exists in between and following from them. An interesting phenomenon in New Media Art is the absence of a visible signature on the art object itself. Although the custom is about as applicable to New Media Art objects as the custom of signing is to modern analog art, the absence of a visual signature of the creator during the confrontation between object and audience is intriguing. Aside from practical dilemmas with the placement or content of the signature, the New Media Artist has become more of a conceptual appearance than ever. This surfaces most obviously in the possibilities the artist has for self‐presentation, e.g. through a personal website, where the artist can present himself in any way possible, aided by photos, texts, reviews, etcetera. Strictly speaking, such a single virtual identity could be used by any number of people, producing work exclusively accessible within the virtual/digital domain it is presented in, while still appearing to the analog world as being a single person.
18 For example in Neill & Ridley; Arguing About Art: Contemporary Philosophical Debates
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An example of this can be seen in the cybercollective ‘Neen’, an international group of people, residing and exhibiting around the world, but mainly functioning by and aiming at their on‐line existence. Looking at www.jacksonpollock.org, a website by Neen‐founder Miltos Manetas, we find Manetas’ name at the top of the screen, followed by the creator of the original application. In an interview about his creative process19, he states that his role was only a minor part of the creative process leading up to the final work, and that it primarily came about through other Neen‐members .The outward presentation of him as the artist is merely justified through a conceptual separation between the physical and ‘digital’ personae of Miltos Manetas. In other words, the virtual identity ‘Miltos Manetas’, the artist of various virtual works of art, is in itself the product of several lines of flight, a number of which might be actually existing human beings. The artist has become an interchangeable phenomenon, a brand name under which certain types of work can be grouped, which not necessarily have to be made by one and the same person. The emphasis shifts from the artist to the artwork, an approach justifying the inconsistency of the attribution of, for example, the ‘Rembrandt’ signature to paintings of which a large ammount of the paint has been applied by assistants. Hardly any work of art has been produced without some level of influence outside of the artist‐artwork relationship. Strikingly, this is often disregarded, perhaps to maintain a clear image of an artist as a person with extraordinary creative abilities. However, by disregarding the sphere of influence surrounding an artwork, part of its meaning can also be obscured.
Traditionally, the artist‐artwork relationship has been regarded as something similar to cause and effect, the cause being the inspiration of the artist and the effect the end product of the artistic object20. This concept has been tried and fitted in a number of different interpretations, but central to this view remains the artist, who skillfully translates cause into effect and therefore is pivotal for the generation of a work of art. The artist is accredited with, and admired for, this translation, regardless of all the other forces involved. Perhaps this evokes a sense of exclusivity which becomes part of the elitist charm of an art object but what happens in fact in the production of an artwork can be quite the contrary. I have already mentioned jacksonpollock.org, by Miltos Manetas. Although he might receive the credit for it, the website started off as a programming experiment by Michael Migurski, who put it on www.stamen.com. It was found there by Manetas’ friend and fellow‐Neenstar Rafael
19 Interview through e‐mail, 2007 20 For a concise overview of the history of art perception, see A. Van den Braembussche, Thinking Art, Springer: 2007
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Rozendaal, who sent a link to the website to Manetas. A third Neen artist, Mai Ueda, suggested registering the domain name and a few alterations, after which Manetas placed the application there under his own name. Manetas is known in his circle as an appreciator of the work of Jackson Pollock. The encounter with the application has several effects on both the animation and Manetas; whereas the application is deterritorialized by Rozendaal as being a Flash experiment by Migurski, it is reterritorialized by Ueda as a Pollock‐inspired online Manetas‐piece. In return, the Flash application deterritorializes Rozendaal and Ueda as individual artists and reterritorializes Manetas as the creator of an award‐winning website. Rozendaal and Ueda are unmistakably elements in the generation of this piece, which undoubtly could have lingered on Stamen.com as an anonymous Flash experiment for an undetermined period of time. In this way, the application and Manetas are fed by each other although they started off in different, unconnected environments –or, to use Deleuze & Guattari jargon, different ‘planes of consistency’21. Although neither Manetas, nor the application had any intention of resulting in jacksonpollock.org, they were brought together successfully by others who saw the potential of their combination. However, their influence as such is not visible in the presented work, leaving Manetas and the application as the creative components of the process. Rozendaal acts as a mediator, altering the direction of the piece from its own environment, or plane of consistency, towards Manetas. Ueda does the same for Manetas towards the application. Perhaps Rozendaal and Ueda could both be seen as a planet, slightly altering the trajectory of a comet as it passes by its gravitational pull. Their influence is only indirect and passive. As the Neen collective demonstrates, the distinction between computers and artist communities is challenged to a certain extent. Traditionally, artist communities might be seen as a social structure in which artists communicate their ideas, reflect on each other’s work and perhaps produce works together. The computer, as an artistic tool, enables the artist to make a certain kind of work, but as it also serves as a digital communication portal. Computer entities can start leading their own ‘social’ life as they are encountered on the Web by different users. Unfortunately for these web‐entities, they are rather passive when it comes to feedback. Still, non‐human entities can exert an equally important influence on the coming into being of artwork as humans can. Accepting that can greatly improve our understanding what it is about art that attracts us so much.
21 Deleuze & Guattari (2004), p.9
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The ease with which the Neen collective can be fitted with the rhizomorphic glove is striking not only because it demonstrates the very reality of a rhizomorphic system, but also because the artist emerges as an integral part of that system on different levels.
V - The Artwork, not the Artist Assuming that the artistic functions as a rhizome, the artist loses the pivotal role, but remains valuable to the understanding of his work. Without access to Manetas’ personal story on jacksonpollock.org, it would lose some of its current significance, as with Rembrandt’s Night Watch; knowing the painting as it exists today is not the complete original, explains why it appears so flat and dark. Certain characteristic elements of Rembrandt’s composition (namely a balustrade and a step22) are, contrary to the original, visible on a smaller 17th century copy of the piece by Gerrit Lundens. Although those details are not crucial to the art experience of the objects as such, consider the elements making up an art work which are often disregarded or overlooked. Outside influences like the alteration of the Night Watch, the creative process leading up to the final product, the medium used or the influence of the use of certain materials all have a great impact on our final perception of an art work. In the past twenty years, the latter three (process, medium and material) have developed their influence even further through the introduction of the computer. The increasing significance of the computer into our lives does not disregard the domain of the artist. Albeit excluded from the presented work, e‐mail and other computer‐ based technologies and communication systems are bound to be part of the daily life of the artist. In an article in the magazine Computational Design in 2001, Mihai Nadin points out that, in the analog world, direct interaction is possible (whether it is through a greeting hand or a hammer), contrary to the digital realm, where ‘a language (of two digits, 0 and 1) and a grammar (Boolean Logic) stand between the user and the hardware.’23 Although not every user has to understand this language and/or its grammar, programmers –which are not an uncommon breed within the computer‐based arts –do need to have a certain level of understanding in order to successfully generate new and original software applications. This means that, as Nadin
22 The Night Watch was painted in 1642, and was cut down on all sides in 1715, when it was moved from the room in the Kloveniersdoelen, for which it was painted, to the town hall in Amsterdam, presumably to make it fit between two columns. This caused not only a balustrade and a step to disappear, but also an arch (three lighter elements placing the scene in broad daylight and giving it a forward motion) and, more notably, two characters on the left‐hand side. 23 Nadin, 438
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formulates it, the computer is a semiotic engine in which all interaction is mediated through signs and symbols24. Although initially designed by humans, computers only allow successful communication in their language, rather than ours. This structures the interaction itself, but humans also have to translate their ideas into computer language. From an artistic perspective, this could lead to distance between the artist and the end product as the computer‐using artist cannot just sketch a composition on a tablet and start painting. Even software such as Photoshop or PaintShopPro has to be programmed to allow the desired actions. However, it seems improbable that human‐ centered design will, in the near or distant future, be prepared for all possible approaches to art making and therefore is unlikely to take away the burden between the desired outcome of the artist and the actual outcome of the computer. The computer is in this sense not just a tool, rather an employee to be instructed ‘indirectly’ through a medium. The computer has sufficient intelligence to apply the relevant rules to ensure the –logically‐ most favorable outcome, based on the instructions. The practical experience artists have with the computer in this sense is a subject for the next chapter.
24 Nadin, 2001
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I - The Creative Machine In the previous chapter, I have continuously referred to a difference between art theory and art practice. As that chapter focused more on theory, this chapter is devoted to the artist in the field. I have argued in the previous chapter that the use of a computer forces the artist to adapt the work to the computer’s logic, causing a gap between the artist and the end product. As a consequence, the artist is less ‘present’ in the work and part of the creative process becomes creating or learning certain programs, working around digital obstacles and converting files from one format to another. Using a computer, the artist has to face and overcome not just problems concerning the production of a concept, but of an entirely different order. Often, computer‐related artists are forced to work with numerous software programs. By doing so, the semiotic machine Nadin referred to is multiplied by the number of programs which, in effect, increases the chance of mistranslation, ‘noise’ and other problems every step of the way. Such hindrances are not limited to the virtual domain but often extend into our reality, even on the most basic of levels such as malfunctioning cables or off‐color printouts. The number of functions the computer can fulfill in the production of art are endless and every artist has the possibility of conjuring up new applications for the computer. Numerous attempts have been made to structure the genre of electronic art somewhat, which has proved to be a problematic endeavor to say the least, as emerging technologies change the (electronic) landscape faster than the printed media can keep up with. Unlike traditional art forms, the computer has indeed given rise to a subgenre solely devoted to research and development25, the relevance of which is not to be underestimated. Of course not every artist is a computer expert, but the will to reach a desired result is strong. In many cases, the required software is not available or nonexistent, which means some knowledge in programming is often necessary. As American artist Cynthia Rubin puts it, artists always find a way26 and not having any programming skills does not seem to be a burden for
25 For example, see J. Brouwer et al., 2005 or S. Wilson, 2002 26 E‐mail correspondence, 2007
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Rafael Rozendaal, who gladly makes use of an external programmer to work out his ideas27. On the contrary, Cynthia Rubin uses an external fabricator for the production of a stained‐glass window, which she designed digitally. Lev Manovich argues28 that the use of computers in art practice blurs the traditional division of art into medium‐based genres, if only because it is a highly malleable machine: from production tool to component to medium and everything in between and beyond. The computer is more malleable than any component of the traditional artist’s arsenal. This has had an influence in my research; instead of contacting artists who work in different ‘genres’ of art, I based my choice of artists on the way they work with their computers; in different ways and – especially – at different intensities. One artist uses it merely as a tool, whereas another regards the computer as an ‘undiscovered landscape’. All recognize, however, that the nature of the machine itself has a remarkable influence on the produced works. The computer is an intelligent, yet not self‐sufficient machine. It requires input, initiation in order to create output. And even when input is generated by a program, the computer is yet to develop to a level where it can actively modify itself. Currently, the computer is at a level where it can perform pre‐instructed actions or form an extension of the artist, as a pencil forms an extension of the arm when drawing29. Simultaneously, the computer has a lot left to be explored and conquered, and artist and computer push each other to new limits: ‘The computer is the body, the artist is the athlete,’ according to Miltos Manetas30. Some artists take this more literal then others, as illustrated by Stelarc, an Australian‐based performance artist ‘whose work explores and extends the concept of the body and its relationship with technology’.31 Stelarc aims to use technology to overcome the weaknesses of the human body. His work involve robotics, installations and the human body and includes a six‐legged exoskeleton, a third hand (mounted on the right forearm) and an installation allowing the audience to control the movement of Stelarc’s own body. Although the work of artists such as Stelarc increases and extends the fusion of man and machine, the role of the computer is limited and always subordinate to the human (body) it interacts with. Even when taking control over the human body, it respects its boundaries and is aimed at its preservation. The relation between the human artist and the computer is complex and comes in as many forms as there are artists in the field. Perhaps the combination of a range of tools,
27 Interview in 2006 28 In Post‐media Aesthetics (2001), later integrated in The Language of New Media (2001) 29 E‐mail correspondence with Cynthia Rubin, 2007 30 E‐mail correspondence, 2006‐2007 31 Taken from Stelarc’s official website at www.stelarc.va.com.au
24 The Revised Artist production methods and modes of representation into one unit enables, more than ever before, a customization of that unit to fit the needs and desires of the artist, whilst allowing for additions when the concept requires it.
II - Neen The computer cannot produce art as humans can, and at its most autonomous state, the computer can serve as tool, medium and ‘stage’ all at once. Together with the Internet, it can offers artists the opportunity for an almost entirely virtual existence. A good example of this which I have already mentioned before is the art collective Neen, initiated by Miltos Manetas. The Neen collective proclaims the Internet not to be merely an addition, but rather an extension to our physical dimensions into the virtual. This means that we can move in and out of the virtual domain. An important aspect of the virtual world which is reflected in Neen ideology is the absence of ‘objecthood’ in the virtual domain. However, this absence of objecthood can be extended into our reality‐experience, based on a notion in quantum physics that our experience of reality is simulated as well32. Thus, certain traits and customs common to the digital community (i.e. people who actively seek to communicate with others using their computers and the Internet) are in place in the physical world as well. ‘We are moving to a new kind of
Figure 3: Screengrab of jacksonpollock.org (2003), showing Manetas’ semihidden signature
32 This is in correspondence with the work of scientists like Karl Pribram, who researched our perception for a number of years. He discovered that ‘when we look at something, we don’t ‘see’ the image of it … on the back of our retinas, but in three dimensions and out in the world. It must be that we are creating and projecting a virtual image of the object out in space, in the same place as the actual object, so that the object and our perception of the object coincide.’ From: McTaggart, p.109
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ownership: everyone can copy digital objects, that is the nature of it and the beauty as well.’33 This has a notable impact on ownership issues, which they extend to the ownership of our identities. Neen artists can, if necessary, use the ‘identity’ of a fellow artist. The identity thus becomes an ideological and relational framework which can be linked to a person’s actions in daily life. In the case of the earlier mentioned work jacksonpollock.org, the identity of Miltos Manetas was recognized in the Stamen.com application, because Manetas would often refer to the work of Jackson Pollock. This is a clear example of the phenomenon, and it can lead (as in his case) to works which are, in effect, almost completely made by others. Another example is the work of Rafael Rozendaal. During an interview, Rozendaal elaborated on his cooperation with programmer Reinier Feijen: as Rozendaal has very limited programming skills, he has to call in the help of Feijen. Sometimes they work side by side, but often Feijen works out Rozendaal’s concept technically and offers some suggestions. For example, when working on wewillattack.com, Rozendaal initially wanted to create a piece with the least amount of ‘style’ possible. The result is a field in which lines can be drawn, creating gradients similar to a standard Photoshop tool. Rozendaal asked Feijen for it to produce random color schemes, but Feijen suggested limiting the color scheme to ten colors. That resulted in the strong contrasts present in the work today. According to Rozendaal, this was an unexpected, but very successful move on Feijen’s part.34
Figure 4: Screengrab of wewillattack.com, 2002 33 E‐mail correspondence, 2007 34 Interview, 2006
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.
Rozendaal keeps his work virtual and on‐line and, although his subject matter might not be directly inspired by it, his works rely on the functionality of Flash applications and websites. Such a kind of art is not possible in any other medium. ‘[The] immaterial [nature] is very important, you don’t run a marathon with a fur coat.’35 Biglongnow.com, for example, is a variation on a theme seen in cartoons; an endless sequence of doors. Although the effect can be shown in animation, the experience of opening a door, behind which is another door, truly into infinity, is only possible in an interactive application (such as Flash). The addition of a doorbell upon entering the site initiates an urge to interact. This is another feature only possible in on‐ line art; a personal interaction between the website and every single user, independently of the number of users at any given point.
‘I am not in love with my computer, what I am crazy about is the Internet. We are at a historical point in time, here we go from broadcasting to narrowcasting; you get what you want from who you want when you want’ –Rafael Rozendaal
Rozendaal’s work only materializes when a website is bought; the buyer receives a certificate of authenticity and a handmade package with files on a CD‐R.The only relevant thing is the domain name itself; domain names come in unique editions and cannot be copied. Aside from ownership issues, one of the most intriguing aspects of online art is that it does not require established art presentation platforms in order to reach its audience; the web art‐enthusiasts often know their way around the Web already, and applications leading users to a random site in their field of interest introduces an unprecedented way to ‘attract’ an audience. In addition, sharing links to websites on forums and online messaging systems can lead to overnight internet hypes. The internet as an exhibition platform is a unique phenomenon, in which each audience and the work of art have an isolated experience. Both Rozendaal and Manetas sign their work online, but not in an immediately visible way (pressing resp. the space‐bar or any key will show their signatures). Rozendaal is not sure whether a signature is really necessary and sees it more as a means of grouping the works as sharing a certain context than claiming them as being his creations. The effect of the initial absence of a signature, allows the work to exist as the website that it is, in the midst of the millions of other websites. As an effect, any user that might stumble upon an art site is more likely to have a mixed artistic/non‐art experience; the only possible forms of interaction are
35 E‐mail correspondence, 2007
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deliberately created by the artist, and therefore there is no other way but to experience the website in the intended way. Whether this experience is pleasant to, or even understood by, the user is secondary to the fact that the website has the user exactly where the user is meant to be in order to optimally undergo the experience. Little media give the artist such control over the presentation of a work. Museums, theaters and concert halls exist only as a variation of unique entities, in which works need to be placed. This cannot but have an influence on the presentation. Sometimes it works in the advantage of the perception and understanding of a work, but not necessarily so. The internet itself is always the same, everywhere. Although bandwidth and computer specifications may influence the perception of an internet work as well, both will exert an equal influence on everything done on the machine, regardless of the artistic value. Another advantage of the Internet advocated by the Neen collective is the real‐time speed of communication. Contrary to traditional media, the Internet allows for immediate action. Museums and other platforms for creative expression therefore have a tendency to lag behind on new developments in art and rely themselves on the Internet for communication and trend spotting. In this sense the computer becomes a portal to an electronic stage or gallery to which there is no other entrance and in which the art object is more indepedent than ever.
III - Cynthia Beth Rubin One of the early birds in Computer Art, Cynthia Rubin soon gave up her paint brushes to settle amongst programmers and other ‘geeks’. In the early days, the computer did not provide her so much with exciting new possibilities but rather challenges;
‘I was already using repeating forms in paint, cutting stencils for a repeat that obviously was easier in the digital world. But in the beginning, I had to draw all imagery by hand (using a stylus), and reduce my palette to 256 color’36
36 All quotes in this section are taken from an e‐mail interview with Rubin in 2007, unless stated otherwise.
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For Rubin, the computer has Figure 5: Avignon Afterimage by Cynthia Rubin, 1987. Mural in Southern Connecticut State University become an extension of the body, and thus a tool, but with a totally different direction. Whereas Rozendaal takes the everyday –mosquitoes, farts and doors –and places it in an interactive virtual environment without any specific location, Rubin takes her inspiration from a more abstract or symbolic level and combines references of the physical world with the possibilities of the virtual. This way, a synthesis is born reflecting both the material and immaterial components of her work. She is not afraid to show the virtual nature of a work which might be physical, nor the other way around. In that sense it is impossible to take the computer out of her work.
‘Of course I could not have designed this image or any other digital image in paint or paper. Computer Scientists have this bizarre idea of "natural media" ‐ that artists want to do in digital format what they do in paint. It is a pre‐conception that took hold early on, and has been difficult to shake.’
Let there be no mistake that the computer has become an undeniable element and indeed something independent from the other forms of producing art. Although Rubin compares the computer to analog tools, like the pencil or brush, she does recognize the fundamental difference between analog and digital tools:
‘My mind is still my own, inside my body, but the computer allows me to make notes to make visible the musings that lead to my work. I record both in words, and by saving experimental stages of visual work that I would not otherwise be able to save.’
Working creatively with computers has given her a good sense of what is possible. In the beginning the technological limitations had a visible influence on her work, but her style lent itself well for digitalization. It did, however, influence her work:
‘There was a change in the rhythm and space of
Figure 6: Senegal Diaries, 2004 the work, owning to the resolution and limited
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color. And I discovered gradients to make deep space (not available in the first version of Artronic paint – but possible later). I love the flatness of form in the first works that I did, and use of pixels up for texture.’
The gain in working with the computer can mainly be found in the content. Although the interface is limiting, even today, the computer opens up a world of possibilities regarding contents, as her subject matter is often involved with memory and places which evoke cultural memories. Although she does not claim to be a photographer, photographic images are an inherent part of many of her works. The application of filters, the superimposition of images and repetitive patterns can be difficult to accomplish without the aid of the computer. With the help of the computer, this still requires some training and skill. Simultaneously, the computer allows for a combination of visual information with other forms of sensory input, such as sound and touch37. However, to computer artists like Cynthia Rubin the difference between digital and analog art making becomes increasingly obscured as they grow familiar with their machines and software
‘I remember vividly the day that I broke the wall and the computer became a natural medium. […] I was so obsessed with the right overlay of a patterns of arches on a landscape, that I forgot about looking carefully at menus, I forgot about the ‘right’ way to do things, and just leapt into creative thought.’
The naturalization of the computer as an artistic tool is not unexpected; the interface is ultimately limited and often categorized into very comprehensible groups which are accessed through keyboard and a pointing device which, essentially, like most analog tools, direct the flexibility of the entire hand into one single action. If there is no more difference from the artist’s perspective between making art using traditional tools and media and digital/electronic ones, then why do digital artists face such a critical reception from both the computer scientists and the general audience? Perhaps part of the answer lies in the use of the computer; the versatility of the machine obstructs a clear definition or categorization of the art made through it. On the other hand, despite the so‐called infinite possibilities the computer has to offer, being familiar with the software allows artists to restrict their use of the software’s abilities to towards the experience they want to evoke by their piece; just being beautiful is not enough. This combined leads to a
37 Although Rubin has to rely on fellow artists to use such combinations in her work.
30 The Revised Artist very diverse community of artists, all making art in the way they consider most appropriate for what they seek to express through their work. Combined with the increased control over art illustrated by the Neen collective, the digital art scene can be more diverse than any other art scene. Perhaps digital art has reached a level of development where indeed the old categories cannot be used anymore and we should study art works at a deeper level.
IV - Harold Cohen An artist who has taken the computer to a whole new level in his own production of art, is the British‐American artist Harold Cohen. Already an established painter, he has been working on software capable of letting a computer producing art works by itself from 1973 to 200638. The computer has been given the name AARON and has produced thousands of drawings some of which Cohen has added color and others have been colored by AARON itself. The motivation for developing a system such as AARON was instigated by the awareness that, back in the 1970s, computer artists used the computer merely as a tool, and that they relied very much on ‘original material’, which was digitized, modified and/or re‐created using the computer. This meant that artists who could not produce work without the computer would not be able to produce art with it either. In Cohen’s eyes, the computer is the only tool invented by man that has “the power to perform functions which parallel those of the mind itself”39. Being from a computer‐generation later, Cynthia Rubin is still a good example of the kind of artist the early computers brought forth. She too started off as a painter and found her opportunity in the computer. Still, she stands with one leg in physical reality and with the other in virtual reality, which makes it hard to recognize the extent to which her work is influenced by the computer. In his earliest writings on AARON, Cohen asks himself whether it is possible for a machine to produce a series of drawings which shows a similar development as would a series of drawings made by a human artist. Cohen thus chooses to produce art in such a way that he uncovers the extent to which the computer can take part in producing a work of art. For a machine to generate art, it would have to be reasonably self‐sufficient in that it would not rely on constant interaction with a human being. When used as a tool the computer processes the input in a user‐controlled manner in order to produce a certain output. The number of simultaneous processes or the speed with which they follow up on each other does not matter for the principle of a repetitive one‐step affair. This can clearly be recognized in the earlier works of Cynthia Rubin, involving the use and alteration of photographic material. Although Rozendaal’s work does not necessarily rely on external ‘original’ material, his work still
38 In 2006 he abandoned AARON in favor of an algorhythm‐based program 39 Cohen 1973, p.1
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relies on constant human interaction for its existence. His work can stay in the computer but does not fundamentally differ from Rubin‘s. AARON is primarily a personal research tool of Cohen, in which he aims to uncover what knowledge about the external world is necessary in order to construct a plausible visual representation of that world. This means that AARON has no camera, nor a database from which it can draw exact examples. Up to 1980, the machine was ‘intended to identify the functional primitives and differentials used in the building of mental images’.40 Gradually, it became capable of building up stick‐figures and recognizing closed shapes from open shapes. This became a foundation for further development, in which figures would contain a skeletal ‘conceptual core’ around which the
Figure 7: an example of AARON’s drawing body is shaped. AARON is capable of generating its own material and feedback based on the results of its actions. Cohen describes his system in a way that appears quite similar to the way Rozendaal produces his work41: the computer communicates between a generative system, which creates an image step by step, and an executive system, which is responsible for the actual realization of the proposed image. As AARON has no eraser, it builds up the image front‐to‐back, which means the executive system feeds back what it has drawn to the generative part. In this way, the executive system has an influence on the creative process as well. AARON uses five different levels of knowledge, ranging from what different pictorial classes can contain, to possible locations and dimensions for a left upper arm in relation to the torso. The first knowledgebase to be consulted is not part of the executive system and contains different pictorial classes. Each class comes with a set of guidelines regarding the elements that can be used in a given drawing and the front‐to‐back order in which they may be used.
40 Cohen 1988, p.3 41 Provided that both the roles of Rozendaal and Feijen are represented by the separate generative and executive parts of AARON. The separation of these roles in the production of art in both cases suggests that this phenomenon is an element in art making valid at a more fundamental level, in favor of Neen ideology.
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Generally, a class is minimally descriptive and rather calls for ‘a few’ people or plants, than two people or three plants, whereby ‘a few’ could mean any number up to four. After selecting a class, AARON expands each entry in the class hierarchically into an internal tree‐structure. At the lowest class, separate managers produce examples of detailed parts, such as hands, from which AARON chooses which one to draw. During the production of a drawing, AARON’s generative system continuously consults the levels of knowledge, or classes, and communicates its decision to the executive system. As the drawing develops, certain demands for a pictorial class may be overridden in favor of the produced drawing. This means that the system never knows beforehand what the end result might be. In respect to AARON’s resemblance to the human practice of art making, it relies for its composition on what Cohen refers to as being ‘the simplest and most universal of compositional paradigms: put it where you can find space for it’42. As AARON started drawing figuratively, a third dimension had to be added to maintain the plausibility of the image. However, AARON has no three‐dimensional knowledge of the objects it draws and thus also lacks knowledge about foreshortening or perspective. It works from appearance, implying lighting and a fixed point of view, providing an object with a certain form. To construct an image without any knowledge about the dimensions of the depicted, one can only look at how solid objects occlude each other, the way light falls on a surface and how objects appear smaller when further away. In theory, according to Cohen, we should be able to deduct from these principles of appearance a particular surface description. However, human beings use the actual appearance of an object to provide such a description. As AARON is aimed at mimicking human perception, the problem with surface illumination can be overcome by using the edges of objects as a basis for representation. Much like sketches, in which different objects are represented by the space they take on the (flat) visual field rather than the actual represented 3D space, AARON builds up its images in two dimensions, whilst maintaining a floor plan of the depicted space:
“Space for an object is allocated initially to the plane of representation. It is then projected back into the ‘real’ world, where it is adjusted to ensure valid 3‐space placement, and then it is projected forward again into the representation.”43
AARON’s working method partly resembles Flower and Hayes’s 1996 model of the writing process (fig. 6), although AARON’s task environment is limited to the work so far, it
42 Ibid. p. 6 43 Ibid., p.7
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nevertheless has a working memory (generative system, making decisions based on both the class requirements and the feedback from the executive system), long‐term memory (descriptive knowledge databases), cognitive process (feedback from executive to generative system) and motivation (pictorial classes and randomizer). Its actual creativity, however, is still under fire. The main issue with Cohen’s research into machine creativity is that, although every image created by AARON is an original, and Cohen’s work on the program has expanded its functionality or quality, AARON is still software, operating on lines of code and choosing through a random number generator. In a 1996 paper, Cohen compares the development in the drawing skills of Zana, a three year old girl, with that of AARON. Although the girl is not a trained artist, she does exhibit a certain sense of freedom unknown to the program. In particular, she has the ability to notice unexpectedly Figure 8: Flower & Hayes’ model of the writing process, 1996 emerging elements in her own work, and use her knowledge to act upon it. When Zana discovers the possibility of drawing short, straight lines, she modifies and refits the concept so that these lines can form lollipop sticks, sun rays, or a lion’s manes. AARON could be developed further and attain a level of complexity allowing for unexpected emergences. It could be fitted with a vast knowledgebase, or code instructing to act upon anything we want. It might even be possible to enable it to recognize the unanticipated emergent properties from its actions, but it would not be the same as an individual acting upon his desires. The most expansive knowledgebase could not give it the experience Cynthia Rubin had when the computer became a natural medium for her. As I already pointed out, AARON has no environmental influences, and no personality. The need for a random number generator
34 The Revised Artist illustrates its persistent lack of free will. Essentially, Cohen argues: ‘AARON is an entity, not a person; and its unmistakable artistic style is a product of its entitality, if I may coin the term, not its personality.’44 The term ‘creative expression’ cannot be applied to AARON’s work. Cohen describes it as an ‘expert’s system,’ as it not just increases Cohen’s artistic productivity, but takes his level of creativity to a higher level than his own. Its drawings are a product of his programming, and are therefore, although perhaps indirectly, a product of his creative mind. If AARON is not the creative one, but an expert’s tool to the creative one, it certainly makes the life of the artist a lot easier; making hundreds of paintings a day, all unique and original. On the other hand, Cohen does not give AARON any concrete instructions and, aside from adding lines of code to research possible enhancements, Cohen has no immediate influence in the production of a single piece. When the drawing is finished, AARON cannot interpret the result and attach a fitting title, nor can it evaluate whether the overall drawing is better or worse than any other drawing. To AARON, all drawings are equally good in quality and composition. This is a questionable issue; if AARON cannot be equated with a human artist, and Cohen has no immediate input on the generative process AARON goes through, which of the two is the artist of the drawings?
V - Elements If there is one issue AARON brings to the surface, it is Nadin’s argument of the computer as a semiotic machine. Cohen minimizes his own influence in the production process and lets the computer interpret more than 14,000 lines of code available to it. Between Cohen and the end product stands a body of electronic and digital information which interprets each and every bit of information available to it, provided by Cohen. Although Cohen has, without doubt, imprinted AARON with a certain artistic style, it is hard to say how much of his own style can be seen through the plotted output of the painting machine. In much the same way, the computer has some degree of influence on its user but the question is whether the artist chooses to let this be an integral part of the identity of the work or not. Harold Cohen relies for his artistic identity very much on the abilities and limitations of AARON and its successor(s), whilst Cynthia Rubin has limited the computer to being one of the (major) tools in her artist’s toolbox. The Neen collective relies very much on certain aspects of the computer, especially regarding the virtual nature of the digital domain, but less so with the
44 Cohen 1996
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computer’s production methods; for them there is no separation between the virtual and the real and the ideology can be realized in architectural design, as well as a movie45. Although these artists are not even the tip of a massive iceberg when it comes to the various ways the computer can be used in the production of art, they do provide us with crucial elements of art in the computer age. Given the level of integration the computer has acquired in our daily lives, it is bound to influence art practice on numerous levels. The selected artists represent very different approaches to the use of computer; the computer as a platform for art, as a tool for the artist, and as a production method in itself. Especially the high speed of technological development will very likely add a whole range of new possibilities and interpretations to the computer‐related art domain in the coming ten years or so. It is not likely that it will completely take over from analog art, but it might just provide a whole new level of understanding art. Those implications will be addressed in the next chapter.
45 Manetas 2006
36 The Revised Artist
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I – Continuity in Practice The new age of art as introduced by the computer is not simply the application of computer theories such as Nadin’s semiotic machine theory on modern art practice. Although artists obviously make use of the computer to some extent they are not simply computer users, nor are they computer scientists or programmers. As artists come, they might be, but certainly not necessary so. The creative input by the artist in the production of art objects brought about the discovery and adaptation of tools, techniques and approaches applicable to art and non‐art practices throughout history. In this respect perhaps art could be regarded as the child of the contemporary Zeitgeist. The peculiar thing about theoreticians like Dickie, Danto, Levinson and Wollheim is that, even though their theories may have become outdated, to a certain extent they are still valid. Still, they will never regain their former applicability as time and technology move on. The rapid succession of technological developments do no longer permit art to be defined historically (Levinson46) and the artist’s battle against elitism has led to artworks which are more easily accessible (countering Danto’s necessity for ‘an atmosphere of artistic theory, a knowledge of the history of art’47). Still, to assess works made around the time these theories were presented, they might offer a valuable context to such works. Post‐war technological development and its lead up to today’s iPhone and F‐117 have surpassed the scope of such theories, and the same can be said for art reflecting that development. Art has exceeded the qualifications of its theorists. Simultaneously, as the profession of artist is a highly personal affair, theories, movements and manifestos of the past still inspire current works of art. The question that should occur to many theoreticians should be whether ‘contemporary art,’ as a term, applies to contemporary artists adhering to contemporary trends and developments, or to a broader group of artists including all active artists and their styles in a certain period of time. The latter would obviously include the trends of the past, but possibly also those of the (near) future and, although perhaps less ‘trendy’, may offer insight into the systems and processes at a more fundamental level. Moreover, it might be interesting to discover whether Rembrandt’s approach to artmaking really is that different to Manetas’ or Cohen’s approach.
46 In: Lamarque & Olsen, p.35‐46 47 Íbid. p.32
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Walter Benjamin was right in his prognosis of art becoming less bound to physical and external attributes but, compared to the mechanical systems Benjamin spoke of, neither ‘imitation’ nor ‘reproduction’ can be applied to computer‐based technology. Simultaneously, the value of physical objects is still recognized in many new works of art, even when involving a computer. Cynthia Rubin’s Avignon Afterimage relies both on the physical and virtual elements captured in the mural, and the same can be said for her stained glass widow (which is in production at the time of writing). AARON’s drawings gain their artistic value largely because of their physical production method. Both Rubin’s and Cohen’s work could be described as embedded in ritual, which is apparent through the testimonial content of Rubin’s work, and the production process of Cohen’s work. Electronic and digital (re)production technologies have only expanded the artist’s option to adjust the relevance of originality and physicality in the object he wishes to produce in order to maximize the artistic effect. Simultaneously, those technologies have made this option available to artists in a greater variety of fields – performance artists, visual artists, musicians, etc. Whether one chooses to create a physical or a virtual work of art, each will limit the outcome of the creative process. Certain past artists might have been forced to limit editions to one due to the effort and time required for the production of a work of art, especially in the case of large scale paintings. It was much easier to commission a less known painter such as Gerrit Lundens to produce conveniently‐sized reproductions of an art work. Cynthia Rubin writes ‘I am thinking of making only one‐of‐a kind prints in the future –grouping them into variations of a theme,’48 proving the need for an authentic original object to be an artistic issue still.
II – The Artist’s Toolbox Although Capitalism and Schizophrenia is not especially aimed at an art audience, it appears to be quite relevant to modern art practice, especially regarding computer‐related art. Together with the work of Paul Virilio, Deleuze and Guattari offer an insightful peek into the systems involved in today’s art practice, and similarities with computer art and more traditional method(s) of art making can be drawn out more easily than we might expect. Cohen’s drawing system AARON bears some resemblance to Virilio’s Vision Machine and we have already touched upon the commonalities between the Rhizome of Deleuze and Guattari, and the Neen collective. Where does this leave Cynthia Rubin? Rubin illustrates by her working method that Nadin’s concept of the semiotic machine does not pose a significant problem to the computer‐using artist. As with analog tools, an artist will most likely use the computer in a way familiar to the artist although the computer may
48 Interview, 2007
38 The Revised Artist obviously offer far more options for interaction through the versatility of the software.49 In her description of her production process, Rubin refers to analog tools as being natural media. However, she also refers to the computer as becoming a ‘natural medium’ to her.50 This implies that at an early stage of the production of virtual art, the computer is not a natural medium and that every step of the creative process is consciously mediated towards the language of the computer. Over time, as an artist becomes familiar with the software, the conscious navigating through menus changes towards a more natural work flow in which the artist knows intuitively what effect requires which tool. The computer artist becomes a skilled craftsman in the same way any other artist becomes a skilled craftsman with the material of his liking. Rubin enables us to compare the production methods and creative process of the digital artist with those of the analog artist and, aside from the fact that the computer enables her to work more efficiently, the computer seems to simply add more tools to the artist’s toolbox, amongst which are medium, storage area and stage. Secondly, her works illustrate that the contents of a work does not merely rely on the artist’s inspiration, the tools used or the medium, but rather they rely on the creative processes during the production stages. The use of a computer does not disable her to make works with a more spiritual and mental direction. The first real change the computer brings about is the effect on the audience. The combination of, for example, visual with aural input allows for a relatively more intense experience, as more senses are tuned into one and the same experience. The computer thus demonstrates continuity in the influence tools and material have on the ultimately presented work of art, through its instant expansion of both tools and material. The fact that the computer functions as a semi‐intelligent machine might seem to increase the influence a tool has or can have on the presented work, but whether this is a new phenomenon is highly questionable. Western art tradition has been influenced by many cultural and technological developments, however small or big. Needless to say the bigger the development is, the more likely it is to have a bigger (and thus more noticeable) influence on the production of the work.
III – Virtual Identity The impact of the computer was bound to be vast since the invention of the Personal Computer, because it opposed our concept of reality by nature. In The Lost Dimension, Paul Virilio exemplifies the generation of counter‐Aristotelian concepts of reality enabled through the computer. Virilio explains that while the existing concept of reality favors substance
49 For example enabling the application of photographic effects to drawings, or vice versa 50 Interview, 2007.
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(enabling solid objects in three dimensions) and duration (objects lasting longer than a moment) over accident (sudden coming into being) and instantaneity, the virtual domain instantiated by the computer functions by the grace of the latter two. This extends into our world through our daily use of technology, and already has an effect on western culture and politics, from the way we form and maintain relationships, to how we voice our opinions. The extent to which the computer challenged the status quo of our concept of reality resonates into many areas of our lives on a practical level, but also on a more conceptual level; the interconnectedness of the world, made plausible through the digital revolution, opens up new worlds to be explored and calls for new world views to be established (e.g. in the form of the Global Village, Glocal communities, etc.). Naturally, such great changes in our environment require time to be understood and many artists reflect on such changes through their work. The presentation of such works in turn extends this reflection into the public (cultural) domain. The introduction of the computer in the art world demonstrates that the art object can no longer be understood merely in terms of artist‐concept‐object, as the artist can no longer be seen as the sole creator of art works. The changes in the perception and production of art cannot be understood to the fullest extend without involving more abstract factors such as material and production process. Including such non‐human factors in the understanding of art calls for an approach to examining works of art in terms of spheres of influence. Each might or might not be important to the understanding of a work to a certain extent and include people (artist, commissioner, friends, etc.), material, medium, production process, concept and inspiration. Naturally, these might differ culturally, historically or in another way and technology is part of a number of those spheres, wherever it might prove relevant. The Neen collective has incorporated this view deeply into their working method by laying bare an element in the production process many artists experience already in their daily lives. I refer to a form of almost selfless interaction, enabling what Neen describes as using another artist’s identity. Without the awareness of the value of this interaction, jacksonpollock.org or wewillattack.com would perhaps never have been made. Their ideology embodies the notion that the work of art is an amalgamation of all the different factors involved in the production process, and even though each factor influences the others, each moves at a different speed and in its own direction. The outcome this process produces is an object which is better understood as a particular articulation of the set of spheres of influence involved. An articulation could also be understood as a certain path followed through a rhizomatic system, and its understanding requires it to be approached as such.
40 The Revised Artist
Categorizing art objects based on genre or medium is limiting because all art, whether good or bad, high or low, is aimed primarily at evoking a certain kind of experience in anyone to whom it is presented, in any means available to the object, but always projecting something beyond the practical use of that object. In that sense, different forms of art, or even different art objects can be described as different articulations of a set of spheres, as even the same spheres of influence can, in a different composition, be present in multiple art objects. Schematic categorizations (such as genre and medium, but also art movements, style periods, etc.) based on the art work as an entity support rather than oppose this approach, as art objects are traditionally already assessed in a quite similar way (‘Bottle Rack’ can be categorized as being an objet trouvée, Dada, a work of Marcel Duchamp and so on, without these categories opposing each other). However, forcing works of art into such categories obstructs a proper understanding of the work at hand. The adoption of the qualities of the virtual dimension of the computer and the internet could be said to bring the rhizomatic nature of the creative process to the surface, making it impossible to be ignored any longer.
IV – [Re]Vision Machine Harold Cohen mirrors the Neen approach on the plane of the tool; externalizing and deconstructing the requirements for the production of a plausible, original image through AARON demonstrates the relatively unimportant role the artist can play in the production process. Much like the original fabricator of Duchamp’s Bottle Rack or Michael Migurski, AARON has no influence in the attribution of artistic value to its product. That Cohen, Duchamp and Manetas can claim these products as their works of art is an important clue to the experience of the object as being a work of art. In addition, their socio‐cultural context adds to the character of the piece. The issue of A.I. artists, to which AARON is a predecessor, only fortifies the deconstruction of the pivotal role of the human being in the generation of art, and thus the attribution of emotional value or meaning to and by ‘dead’ objects. As Virilio explains in The Lost Dimension, the virtual dimension demonstrated through the computer challenges the known and established notions of time, the imagination and geometrical configuration; it exists in a permanent ‘now’ in which nothing can be forgotten, consciousness cannot be absent and dimensions are built up out of points. In other words, the computer challenges our notion of time because a computer’s memory is always fixed and can only be altered artificially, as opposed to the human concept of time which naturally allows certain memories to fade away over time. The ‘consciousness’ of a computer is present whenever the system functions and can always access and alter any data, unlike our concept of ‘now’, established through the impossibility to directly influence what has happened yesterday,
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or will happen tomorrow. Lastly, the virtual environment is built up of pixels, coordinates, etc., that function as a modular unity. A point is, according to definition, ‘a geometric element that has zero dimensions’51; a physical improbability. Regardless of these fundamental differences between our physical dimensions, and the virtual dimension, this virtual dimension is demonstrated through AARON to be able to generate plausible images without ever having seen the objects it draws. Unlike Virilio’s ‘Vision Machine’, AARON cannot see its surroundings and yet it can determine whether a given situation is possible or not (e.g. humans cannot have leaves) and deduct from that what a possible external world would look like. The predicted enigma52, however, is avoided. The rules used by the machine, to construct a plausible impression of the outer world, are produced by a person, who naturally has access to the world the rules apply to. It nevertheless functions ‘like a kind of mechanized imaginary from which we are totally excluded.’53 The only points of intervention Cohen has in AARON are at the level of rule‐building and programming before AARON creates an image, and the attribution of artistic value after the image has materialized in a drawing. The apocalyptic impression the Vision Machine leaves in Virilio’s writing is overshadowed by AARON in certain aspects. Where the Vision Machine might be able to perceive its environment and act upon it without the intermediary step of visualizing, AARON has the ability to create an environment and implement meaning through the gestures of figures, the visualization of which brings human beings into action.
Dpodmvtjpo!! Smoothening the Theoretical Landscape
When Virilio states that the ‘newer advanced technologies of investigation now have given body and corporality to that which before had none,’54 he refers to the construction of mental objects in a (virtual) three‐dimensional space, which can now happen in the virtual space of the computer. Studies on perception in the 196os suggest that human beings construct their perceived reality by mentally projecting three‐dimensional images of the objects (they think) they see. Although Virilio is not wrong in his statement, science implies that creativity in the
51 Source: Merriam‐Webster Online dictionary 52 Virilio 1994, p.60 53 Ibid. 54 Virilio 1991, p.112
42 The Revised Artist broadest sense (i.e. ‘the ability to produce or bring about by a course of action or behavior’), and thus art, is a synonym for ‘giving body and corporality to that which before had none’. It is true that the age of mechanical reproduction has developed further into an age of virtual creation, but the influence of the virtual on the physical has always existed, albeit first in the form of the imaginary and the spiritual and now in a physically perceptible form. As a consequence, New Media indeed presents us with an alternative mode of expression, but a less mediating one at best. The seeming persistent crisis in art, perhaps evoked by a sense of rupture with the history of the art practice, can thus be solved and embraced when art is approached not through the categorizations a work of art might fit in, but through the analysis of the elements of the art experience the audience is invited to undergo. This way, the historical and cultural changes to which an art object might be subjected can be taken into account and the ‘aura’ Walter Benjamin referred to is not shattered through the occasional absence of an authentic original object (even when ‘object’ is interpreted as I suggested in the first chapter). The focus on cultural diversity in the 1980s and the subsequent aversion towards postcolonialist theory building in the 1990s, leading to a rapid expansion of the Western artistic domain in the areas of ethnic and cultural diversity issues55 coincided with the cultural familiarization with the computer in the Western world. This illustrates the awareness of a fractal‐like diversity and the impossibility of unifying that diversity through theory, an issue that has posed a problem to new media art theorists. The endless variation, both on a material and artistic level, poses problematic awareness of the legacy of Said’s ‘Other’ in the ‘traditional’ art scene56, whereas the integration of new media into art has more openly commented upon the location and dimensions of the self. The computer system in itself offers the user a multitude of tools, but the various forms of communication and interaction offered by the Internet enables real‐time user‐o‐user interaction. This satisfies our need to interact on a social level and as a consequence, communities are redefined and divided into subsets of likeminded people, virtually as well as physically. In an era where minorities search for recognition, the redistribution of social identities both obstructs the possibility to form a physical unity and enables a sense of identity through virtual social environments. However, the ubiquity of urban agglomeration and ‘radioconcentric’ politics Virilio envisions is only feasible in a strictly virtual community. As we are partially physical and partially ‘virtual’ beings, a synthesis of these will be instilled in society as well.
55 Domela,2007 56 Ibid.
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The computer, and the Internet with that, is primarily designed for narrowcasting, focusing on countless individuals rather than a homogeneous mass audience. This form of publication is, at least at the moment, not yet integrated in society and/or sophisticated enough to replace physical broadcasting in the form of organized events such as festivals and symposia, where communication can happen either way and the environment supports an element of chance in meeting people, overhearing conversations and witnessing seemingly irrelevant processes of interaction, all of which are part of the rhizomatic character of the creative process. What remains after the infiltration of the virtual domain into our lives is a possibility of superefficiency, in which an endless variation in creative output is established. As numerous attempts to structure the field of new media show, both in theory and in practice, this is already happening while many of the undertaken projects are undertaken by the grace of an undeniable belief in the large, if not global scale in which said projects can be applied. This strong sense of idealism is admirable, but hardly any project reaches even a regionally significant scale. For art practice the consequences usually remain manageable but the academic field runs the risk of overcomplicating and overstructuring art practice in an attempt to describe the status quo. After the adoption and abolishment of the l’ art pour l’ art credo, to say that anything is possible in art is simultaneously false and true. It is true that art can take on any form, but not everything can be, or become, art. Even the postmodern art movement has become outdated. In the present state of the art world, art can no longer step outside of the boundaries created by art theories and philosophies, simply because there are so many. The need for such theories nevertheless still exists, as they can still be necessary to uncover hidden meanings and propose alternative interpretations to certain works of art, as well as certain theories. This suggests a serious revision of the approach to build a theoretical framework to support or survey art practice. As I implied at the start of my paper, the formation of a ‘true’ definition of art is extremely complex and could very well be impossible to construct, as artistic expression changes along with culture. This has not been the main aim of my research, but the issues at hand are closely related to it. The immense freedom offered to and taken by artists to express themselves in the present era might very well lead to a thorough revision of the concept of artistic value, either in a theoretical or practical plane. It is, however, extremely important for future efforts in this field to take into account the approach theoreticians have taken in the past, and the unfeasibility to maintain that approach, for the simple reason that times have changed, fundamentally. Perhaps, the invention of the film and photography captured a human longing to share and
44 The Revised Artist show memories in a physical manner, which has been continued in the capturing of the human desire to show and share our imagination in all its dimensions.
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Arnason, H.: History of Modern Art 5th edition Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall: 2004 Barthes, R.:The Eiffel Tower and Other Mythologies (Tr: R. Howard) Berkley, [etc.]: University of California Press, 1997 Benjamin, W.: The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (1936) In: Art in Theory 1900‐2000; an Anthology of Changing Ideas. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006 (2003) pp.520‐ 527 Benington, G. & Jacques Derrida: Jacques Derrida Cicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 1993 Blais, J. & Jon Ippolito: At The Edge of Art London: Thames & Hudson, 2006 Braembussche, A. Van den: Denken over Kunst. Bussum: Coutinho, 2007 (1994) Blais, J. & Jon Ippolito: At The Edge of Art London: Thames & Hudson, 2006 Brouwer, J & Arjen Mulder: Interact or Die! Rotterdam: V2_ /NAi Publishers, 2007 Brouwer, J et al.: aRt&D Rotterdam: V2_/NAi Publishers, 2005 Cohen, H.: Parallel to Perception: Some Notes on the Problem of Machine Art (1973). From: http://crca.ucsd.edu/~hcohen/ Cohen, H.: How to Draw Three People in a Botanical Garden (1988). From: http://crca.ucsd.edu/~hcohen/ Cohen, H.: Colouring Without Seeing: a Problem in Machine Creativity. (1999). From: http://crca.ucsd.edu/~hcohen/ Deleuze, G. & Felix Guattari: A Thousand Plateaus London, New York: Continuum, 2007 (1987). Pp.3‐28 Dickie, G.: The New Institutional Theory of Art, in: Proceedings of the 8th Wittgensteinian Symposium, (1983), 10, pp. 57‐64. Domela, P.: Acrimonious Discrepancies. Lecture on November 7, 2007 Gerwen, R. van: De Eigen Ruimte van een Kunstwerk, in: Jaarboek voor Esthetica 2002 Tilburg: KUB‐drukkerij, 2002 Jana, R. & Mark Tribe: New Media Art Cologne: Taschen, 2006 Lamarque, S & Stein Olsen [Ed.]: Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2004 Lovejoy, M.: Digital Currents: Art in The Electronic Age New York & London: Routledge, 2004 Manetas, M.: Neen Milan: Charta Editions, 2006
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Manovich, L.: The Language of New Media Cambridge, Massachusetts, [etc.] : The MIT Press, 2001 McTaggart, L. The Field London: Element, 12003 (2001) Nadin, M.: One Cannot Not Interact in: Knowledge‐Based Systems 14 p.437‐440. Wuppertal, 2001 Neill, A & Aaro Ridley: Arguing About Art: ContemporaryPhilosophical Debates New York & London: Routledge, 2002 [1995] Smith, J: Jacques Derrida: Live Theory New York, London: Continuum, 2005 Rush, M.: New Media in Art London: Thames & Hudson, 2005 Virilio, P.: Lost Dimension Semiotext(e): 1991 Virilio, P.: The Vision Machine Indiana University Press: 1994 Wilson, S.: Information Arts Cambridge, Massachusetts, [etc.]: The MIT Press, 2002. Zurbrugg, N. (ed.)Art, Performance, Media: 31 Interviews Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2004
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