From Blackness for Sale to Bindigirl: Identities and Interventions in New Media Art

Mark Tribe has done a spectacular job explicating the origins, history and accomplishments of New Media Art already. I don’t think reiterating the facts he has presented so succinctly is going to serve any purpose apart from making this review a boring read, so instead, I’m going to focus on a few distinctive moments from “New Media Art – Introduction” that expanded the scope within which I previously viewed works of New Media Art.
After taking a class termed “Women in New Media Art” last semester under Maria Fernandez [an extremely passionate art historian], sighting names of works I have reviewed in extensive detail (including Mouchette and My Boyfriend Came Back From The War) under the subtexts that Tribe mentions them in was an interesting chance for me to rethink the ideas behind these works.

To provide a basic summary, Tribe’s writing focuses on the advent of New Media Art and analyses where it stands with regard to the historical and present art movement, and its intersections with/development from different forms of artistic media. He begins with describing the “art historical antecedents” of this wide movement, which includes inspirations ranging from Dada and Pop art to Conceptual and Video Art.

Personally, I found the political conditions behind New Media Art very intriguing;
how after the collapse of the Soviet Union, “artists in that region had a unique perspective on the Internet’s dot-com era transformation – they were living in societies making their transition from Socialism to Capitalism, a phenomenon that in many ways mirrored the privatization of the internet.” Tribe recognizes 3 developments that drew artists to New Media from other disciplines; (i) the emergence of a global art scene (aided by the internet and also enhancing the utilization of the internet as a means of viewing art and acquiring knowledge of global happenings, (ii) advancements in information technology, and (iii) familiarity of computing to a rising generation.

After a brief account of the beginnings of the New Media Art movement, he progresses to categorize the defining themes/tendencies of NMA movement, providing a plethora of new media artworks for viewers to research in the process. I am particularly interested in the concept of hacktivism (hacking + socio-political activism) and the inventive ways in which a variety of artists have explored concepts of surveillance and identity as they unfold on the internet. More on this soon.

There are five focal “themes” that Tribe categorizes NMA works in.
The first is collaboration, in which he states that by working in either ad-hoc groups or long-term partnerships, New Media artists “challenge the romantic notion of the artist as a solitary genius”. When I initially researched works in this field, I started out by analyzing works by independent women artists that focused on expressing feminine/sexual individuality that older and traditional forms of art, with their virtual ‘cartels’ of white men in the forefront did not allow them to create (Martha Rosler’s Semiotics of the Kitchen is a concrete example). Contrasting (or rather, complimenting) this notion of New Media art as an outlet for individuals/ marginalized groups that did not gain access to “higher” art institutions with the idea that NMA is an arena for collaboration gave me a new perspective on the field. VNS Matrix’s Cyberfeminist Manifesto For The 21st Century is perhaps my favourite collaborative digital project, as its originality and social relevance is as succinct and purposeful as it is raw, provocative, and dramatic.

The second and third are termed “From Appropriation to Open Source” and “Corporate Parody” respectively. As the titles suggest. Tribe addresses New Media artists’ tendency to “copy” and “paste” in their process of borrowing found images, sounds, and text through the influx of internet technology and web-sharing, how this process generated a much more restrictive regime of intellectual property laws and policies than ever before, and how these restrictions eventually paved the way for alternative models such as open source software (an approach to developing computer applications in which a program’s source code is made freely available to a distributed network of programmers who develop features and fix problems”). While Tribe exemplifies Cory Arcangel’s Super Mario Clouds to portray how artists used appropriated materials to their advantage, open-source software now poses a higher risk of being misused as a method of communication and encoding amongst software engineers, as is evident through recent developments in Facebook’s Artificial Intelligence ventures. Under the theme of “corporate parody”, Tribe illustrates through examples a segment of artistic activism against corporate structures and capitalistic commercialism.

Since activism and identity are the two primary themes/’tendencies’ underlying NMA that intrigue me the most, I focused more on the part of the article that talks about these considerations. (I also learned a new word! ‘Hacktivism’ sounds pretty sinister before you know what it’s about). Tribe quotes Brian Harvey in claiming that a hacker (far removed from the stereotypical image of a lonesome, sadistic computer geek as is iconized by mass media) is “more like an artist a criminal”. In a context where a hacker can be viewed not as a villain but perhaps as an inventor of new data in pre-existing domains or programs, it becomes easier to synthesize a possibility of digital artist utilizing ‘hacking’ as a powerful tool to intervene in digital spaces they believe require artistic, social, and/or political intervention, thus aiding in concretizing the concept of “hacktivism” (hacking + activism). In a day and age that is governed by and engulfed in the use of technology and digital imagery to forward information, ideas, and propaganda, several artists have proven that the digital realm might perhaps provide the most tangible solutions to the kinds of issues every form of political art tries to address. Cornellia Sollfrank’s Cyberfeminist project, Female Extension is extremely relevant in this context even today, considering that corporations as expansive as Amazon have only just revealed that their cyber-bots have developed algorithms that have automatically been censoring out job-applicant profiles that contain the image of a woman or the words “woman, women, girl, female” etc. in them.
Essentially, I acknowledge that the activist connotation of digital art is what draws me towards it. While something like Jodi.org is inventive in its own purpose, using digital media for the sake of using digital media is not a sub-field I am as interested in exploring, as the hacktivism aspects of digital productions that can reach a much larger audience than any other art movement could achieve in the past, in a much shorter duration of time. I am extremely amused by the real-time mockery of what goes on around the internet in pieces like Bindigirl (almost so as to say; “Hey, did you see those pop-up advertisements of Indian pornsites with the tagline ‘hot-young-brown-exotic-ethnic-girl-on-webcam’ when you were trying to open Wikipedia yesterday? Now see this.”) and by political commentaries that are direct and pervasive to the point of being satirical, such as the one on black slavery that Keith Obadike highlights by quite literally putting his African-American racial identity up for an ebay auction captioned ‘Blackness for Sale’.

STEYERL: In Defense of the Poor Image

Two days before I read this article, I had this conversation with a friend. For context, my bedside wall features a huge poster of Mona Lisa licking a lollipop. Here it is:


Friend (walking around my room): Cool poster! Where’d you get it?
Me: Online. This website called “redbubble” I think. Features a lot of independent artists.”
Friend: Ah, sucks that no one will ever know them.
Me: What do you mean?
Friend: The independent artists. Probably somewhere around our age, right? They’re already using a painting so famous as a base for their art and people will probably never know them. People only remember the original guy.
Me: Original guy? You mean Da Vinci?
Friend: I guess. Oh wow – if they’re anything like me they probably won’t remember even the original artist…lol.
Me: Really? How can people not know Leonardo Da Vinci if the Mona Lisa is literally everywhere?
Friend: It’s probably because it’s everywhere. I saw a meme with Mr. Bean’s face juxtaposed on her body yesterday. If the painting has now become an overused meme template I guess no one is amazed enough by it to know who made it? Does that make sense?

To Hito Steyerl, it evidently does make sense.
Sure, she talked about the “poor image” in the context of film and essayistic cinema, but her writing applies as much to the traditional aspects of the fine art world as it does to film and photography, primarily because she talks about mass distribution of any kind of image as a double edged sword – on one hand, poor quality images make for much more widespread and easily accessible replicas of art that is otherwise only accessible to small, elite crowds and/or through museum visits. On the other, they almost always denigrate the status of any mass-distributed image to a commercial product suited and created more for the purpose of reaching a wider audience in a shorter amount of time, than for leaving a lasting impact in terms of its conceptual value. In other words, in the world of technological cloud-surfing and social media marketing gimmicks, reach>impact, or first impression>interpretation seems to mark the attitude emerging towards art and images.
I feel that this conversation with my friend exemplifies this double-edged sword: it’s great that an artwork as substantive to art history as the Mona Lisa finds itself reaching such a wide audience through poor quality (‘pixelated’) images so much so artists today appropriate the work to create their own renditions of it (see ‘Fat Mona Lisa’ attached below), but the original ‘image’ deteriorates not just physically, but in terms of its conceptual value, with every copy that is reproduced – till this process reaches a point that a Mona Lisa “rip off” hangs on my wall with an individual having no knowledge about who the “original” artist(s) of the painting and its regenerations are respectively.

oh hell no GIF

 

MIRZOEFF, WONKA, AND THE SIMPSONS: On Virtual Antiquity

My earliest memories of being immersed in an interactive VR product are from when I was ten. My parents took my sister and I to Disneyland, where on a six minute 3D ride called ‘Soarin’ Over California’, I got to revisit all the landmarks of the bay area I had seen on foot a mere few hours earlier – and honestly, I couldn’t tell the difference!

California GIF

Another instance from my childhood familiarized me with the expansive world of VR technology progress (which still, to quite an extent is a grey area somewhere between a technological concept and ‘the unknown’ in my mind). Anyone who has seen the on-screen adaption of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory remembers a scene that dictates a young video-game obsessed adolescent boy (‘Mike Teevee’, I think) teleporting himself inside a TV screen, thereby exemplifying the concept of virtual reality and experiencing the interiors of a digital realm quite literally. Mirzoeff’s claims regarding VR existing amongst neo-classical forms of art way before the creation of the extremely exclusive and advanced technology are interesting in this regard – we as a race have come so far so as to predict advances in our technological capabilities (such as the creation of a VR headset as metaphorically shown in aforementioned movie) , via transmitting these ideas through technological advances (a TV) that were predicted and pre-empted by earlier forms or art and innovation.

(I guess each of the Simpsons’ predictions in the early 2000s, from 9/11 to the Trump presidency were all instances of virtual reality – or perhaps instances of “virtual antiquity” that masked a reality in a digital-psychological realm, only to transform into physical realities years down the line. Perhaps we’re all in a simulation and a generation of another TV addled species is watching us watching The Simpsons – will we ever know? Phew.)

Voting Barack Obama GIF

With the words “virtual antiquity”, I believe Mirzoeff tries to give words to an ethereal sensation of being lifted out of one’s physical space, wherein cognitive tendencies are heightened and individuals experience “an image or space that is not real but appears to be” – but if our unconscious mind that gets activated during VR experiences provides a distinctive version of reality to each of us, who is to say that this ethereal elevation isn’t as real as the rest of our physical embodiment of space?

I wonder what Mirzoeff thinks of Jean Baudrillard’s ideas regarding simulation. I wonder if I’d know if I was in a simulation. Kudos to this article for giving me an existential crisis.

virtual reality vr GIF by Saturday Night Live

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