Please use our discussion forum, Riding the Meridian,
generously provided by Sue Thomas at trAce, the
Online Writing Community, to add
your thoughts to this dialogue. You will have to register in order to post to the forum, so the first time you visit you'll find a screen to set up your user name and password.
If there is enough interest, we'll
try to schedule an online chat
with the participants later this
year.
Better than Bali: Travels on the WWW
_____hosted by Jennifer Ley
In late 1995, I picked up a catalogue from the New School for Social Research. I'd heard they had something new -- a Distance Learning Program -- where I could take a class by computer from my home. I'd been hearing about a software program called Mosiac for surfing something relatively new, a graphic internet interface called the World Wide Web. I'd been producing a children's magazine on the environment that we had tried over the previous summer to turn into a computer program, and I knew there was something relatively new out 'there' called hypertext. That was when I first learned of the work of Robert Kendall, who was teaching a class in just that -- hypertext.
I must have read Kendall's course description a hundred times, with the wistfulness usually reserved for travel folders to places like Bali, as I toted up the cost of the class, the software I would need to participate, the fact that my oh-so-forward-looking first release Powerbook 180 wasn't going to let me do much. I wanted color. I wanted graphics. I started a savings account.
By early 1996, I had the computer, the scanner, the killer 17" monitor with 16 million colors. It was late May. I figured I'd get on the Net (what, the baud rates were now 28.8? You're kidding!!) and see the Net world had been up to in the past year.
One of the first web sites I found was Agnieszka's Diary. If any one person has pushed the internet envelope the furthest during its initial stages in the way poetry is presented, it is Marek Lugowski. I met Kim Hodges, then one of the editors for AgD on a mailing list and wailed "How do you DO all that?" and she said: "Just find a site you like and copy the code, then fill in your own text and graphics to give you an idea of how html is structured. You'll figure out how to design your own pages from there."
Well, my first image in Photoshop took up 3.2 mgs. It took me awhile to realize you don't need 300 dpi resolution to present graphics on the Web. And I couldn't make heads or tails of Marek's image maps (I was too embarrassed to ask for help) so I flailed away trying to make html do things it couldn't possibly do. But I soon learned it could do enough, and with the support of some of my offline friends in the New York poetry community, and my new online friends from Zero City's mailing list, I began to create what became the Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks.
It seems hard to believe that it is only three years since that heady summer and fall of 1996, when the meat of poetry and the means to present it starting moving under my hands like a culinary artist's dream feast. On the Net, I met people from all over the world who were just as excited as I was about the possibilities of poetry/html/the Internet, whose work, imagination and most important, generosity, did and continues to inspire me. This roundtable dialogue brings together five of them to talk to you about what that journey has been like, and where they see literature on the Web going in the future. Because if anyone is going to define the future of literary work on the Web, you can count on all of them to forge a part of that definition.
The participants:
Robert Kendall is the author of the book-length hypertext poem A Life Set for
Two (Eastgate Systems) and many other electronic works published on disk and on
the Web. His work has also been widely exhibited in the U.S. and Europe. His
printed book of poetry, A Wandering City, won the Cleveland State University
Poetry Center Prize, and he is the recipient of a New Jersey State Council on
the Arts Fellowship, a New Forms Regional Grant, and other awards. He teaches
hypertext poetry and fiction for the New School, runs the literary Web site Word
Circuits, writes and lectures frequently about new media literature, and is
codeveloper of the Connection System software for hypertext writers.
In a former incarnation Ian Irvine was a singer/song writer for an obscure
Australian alternative rock band. These days he creates, and occasionally
publishes, literary hybrids as exotic in form as any of the new genetically
engineered fruit trees. He also co-edits the arts ezine The Animist and
teaches Medieval magic to unsuspecting undergraduates.
Sue Thomas is a novelist whose exploration of machine consciousness, Correspondence, was
shortlisted for the Arthur C Clarke Award for Best Science Fiction novel of 1992. Her second novel,
Water, examined inorganics, sex and identity, and she is editor of Wild Women: Contemporary Short
Stories by Women Celebrating Women. Her researches now focus on virtual life and she is currently
completing a novel set in a MOO. Her most recent work is displayed in paper printouts at lux: notes
for an electronic writing at the Contemporary Art Centre, Adelaide, an exhibition of text on paper by
local and international writers and artists whose practices extend to online digital environments,
generating an electric relationship between text, reader, writer and physical space. Sue Thomas is
Director of the trAce Online Writing Community, an interactive network for writers and readers
around the world.
Alaric Sumner is a writer, performer, editor. He is Lecturer in Performance
Writing at Dartington College of Arts, UK. He was formerly Writer in
Residence at the Tate Gallery, St Ives, Cornwall, UK. He edited the Writing
and Performance section of PAJ 61 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1999). His performance work has been presented in in New
York, Buffalo, Cleveland, Montreal, and many UK and European venues. His
collaboration with Joseph Hyde, Nekyia (for speaker, singer,
electroacoustics and video) is currently touring. The Unspeakable
Rooms (a collaboration with Rory McDermott) was described by Frank
Green in the Cleveland Free Times as "one of the most powerful
performances I've ever witnessed, and I've attended hundreds... a difficult
masterpiece". Voices (for 9) was performed at the Royal Court
Theatre, London, in 1994. Books and booklets include Waves on Porthmeor
Beach (Illustrated by Sandra Blow RA) (words worth 1995), Bucking
Curtains (Mainstream Poetry 1999), Aberrations of Mirrors Lenses
Sight (RWC 1998), Rhythm to Intending (Spectacular Diseases
1994), Lurid Technology and the Hedonist Calculator (Lobby Press
1994). His collaborations with sound artist John Levack Drever have been
widely performed and broadcast, and published on CDs from ISEA and Doc(k)s.
Alaric's work is included in Word Score Utterance Choreography
(Writers Forum 1998) and My Kind of Angel: i.m. William Burroughs
(Stride 1998). A paper is due shortly in the Metrum Rhythmus Performanz
Conference publication from Peter Lang Verlag (Frankfurt).
Christy Sheffield Sanford was the first trAce Virtual
Writer-in-Residence and an Alden B. Dow Creativity Fellow in 1999. The
previous year, her piece "NoPink" was awarded The Well's prize for the
Best Hyperlinked Work on the Web. Her online projects have been praised
by Frederick Barthelme in Atlantic Monthly Online, George Landow in
Hypertext 2.0 and N. Katherine Hayles in ArtForum. Her web work has
been published by Light and Dust, Enterzone, Ylem, Salt Hill, New
River, frAme, Perihelion and many other ezines and project sites. In
1999, her web projects appeared in the Amour-Horreur Show at Galerie La
Centrale, Montréal and the Aix Art Contemporaine Web en Provence
Exhibit. She has won nine grants including a National Endowment for the
Arts Fellowship and two NEA-Rockefeller sponsored grants for New Forms.
She is the author of seven books including The H's: The Spasms of a
Requiem, The Italian Smoking Piece, Sur les Pointes: the Ballerina and
the Sea Anemone and Only the Nude Can Redeem the Landscape. Her book,
Library of Congress, is forthcoming from Bloody Twin Press. She is
currently working with Reiner Strasser on a commissioned web work for
Nottingham Now.
The Questions:
1. How much has the technology made available through computer software
and
the Internet influenced the work you create? Please give one specific
example.
Robert Kendall:
Computer technology has had a huge impact on my work.
During
the past decade most of my creative efforts have focused on interactive
electronic poetry. In my electronic pieces I strive to make the
interactive
component as integral to the reading experience as possible.
Essentially I
have had to learn how to deconstruct my creative process and recreate
elements of it in software code. The experience has been often
exhilarating
and often frustrating, but it has permanently altered and enriched my
perception of literature.
One of my most recent works is the hypertext poem "Dispossession"
(Eastgate
Reading Room, 1999). Electronic
elements function at several different levels in this work. The overall
structure is nonlinear, so there are many alternative ways in which the
themes and images can develop during a reading. Many of the nodes
contain
variable text, so when readers return to a particular "page," they will
often find that the text there has changed either randomly or to
reflect a
new context. And of course the appearance and layout of the material is
dictated by the possibilities of the computer screen rather than the
printed
page.
Ian Irvine:
Well I suppose in terms of poetry I've always created work
for
two traditionally separate poetic disciplines - that of 'performance
poetry'
(which most often for me came down to how a poem sounded to an audience)
and
that of 'words on a page poetry'. The electronic medium is undoubtably
pushing me in all sorts of new directions. At present my poetic
transformation is a little behind my editor's transformation and the
poetry
I've had published on the Web has been in the fairly conventional print
journal format - so I suppose it emphasizes the 'words on the page'
side of
my work. Though I've experimented with the recorded 'performance' side
of my
work - via Real Audio and Cool Edit Pro I'm not overly happy with the
Web
result (that hissing R.A. compressed sound). MPEG still takes too long
for
people to download as far as I'm concerned. I keep holding back from
sending
these Real Audio files out because I hear things as a muso, and that
means
lack of sound clarity really irks me - stupid really since we don't need
that from poetry recitations. Currently, however I'm in the process of
'multimedia-fying' the collection of poems called "Facing The Demon of
Noontide". I'm experimenting with RA, MPEG, interactivity (image and
Java
when I get the chance), animated gifs, videos etc. - anything I can get
my
hands on really, just letting it happen with one eye on CD-ROM formats
and
one eye on the future web download times ... there is no doubt that I'm
starting to do things with those predominantly 'words on a page' poems
that
were simply impossible in the old 'performance' or 'words on a page'
modes.
Its very seductive!
Sue Thomas:
I began writing about computers in 1987 when I learned a
little
Basic and became fascinated by programming. The whole notion of that
kind of
rule-based system was entirely new to me beyond the little algebra I had
done at school 20 years earlier, and I found it very exciting. I was
immediately prompted to wonder how it would be if I could write a
program
for my personal relationships, debug it, and just let it run! These
speculations provoked my first novel, Correspondence (1992), about a
woman
who makes a conscious choice to transform her body and mind from flesh
to
cyborg. In 1994 I discovered the Internet but didn't really know what to
do
with it until 1995 when I was introduced to MOOs at the Warwick Virtual
Futures Conference, UK, (by GashGirl of the Australian cyberfeminist
performance group VNS Matrix) and at that point Telnet became my
application
of choice. Once again it was an issue of programming, only now I found
it
really was possible to program personas and identities, and that led to
my
third novel, The [+]Net[+] of Desire, set in a MOO and examining the
transformational experiences that some people have online. I find that
my
most constant theme, however, tends to be travelling via virtuality to
find
correlations between the organic world - landscapes, flesh - and the
abstractness of programming and mathematics. The Net of [+]Desire[+] is
currently being revised but the original first chapter is online.
Alaric Sumner:
In 1976-7 I began publishing, performing my own work and
started words worth magazine with Peter J King. We typeset the
magazine on
an IBM Selectric Composer at a typesetting cooperative and I was asked
to
join them as a worker and trained in 1979 on the Linoterm Photosetting
system. So from near the beginning of my poetic exposure I had gone from
pen
to computing - though not (as Robert, Ian and Sue have discussed) in the
programming side, but on the user side. I found that my handwriting got
worse, but my work looked neat. Moving in the mid-eighties to a
commercial
printing firm which had little work for me but a superb designer's
machine -
the Berthold 'M' Series - I was able to construct the score of Voices
(for
9), which has spreads 840mm (1yd) wide. I had to set them vertically
instead of horizontally and each file crashed the printer, but luckily
only
AFTER it had spent 45 minutes printing each page. Voices (for 9) ) was a
work
I had been struggling to write on paper, but as soon as I realized how
to
lay it out on screen I could then work out how to write the thing. It
was a
key point for Barclays New Stages when the work was presented at the
Royal
Court in London - though their grammar left something to be desired -
Designed on a computer, Alaric Sumner has created a text .... my mum
objected to that.
Now, much of my work is created in collaboration with
sound artists Joseph Hyde and John Levack Drever. I am also developing
my
own sound works using ProTools. Recording technology makes it possible
to
explore expanded performance works - Nekyia with Hyde and with Drever
out
of image (sandra blow),Sound,Hope, and Plans for the New
Architecture: Speakable Rooms. It has also enabled me to work with Rory
McDermott who used video and sound recording to make a performance
version
of my text The Unspeakable Rooms. Just as I have used these
technologies
to further works which could have been achieved without them (but only
at
great cost or with resources I can hardly imagine), so I have used the
Internet so far mainly as a form of communication. I have had
opportunities
and provided others with opportunities in continents I have to jet
travel to.
I have yet to make a computer/Internet specific work. When an idea
arrives
that requires this medium, no doubt I will make one, but until then it
is
for me a tool for the creation of works for performance and the page (or
screen as page) and a tool for communication. The one aspect that
thrilled
me was the possibility of containing performance (in sound) with visual
material (imagetext) in the same medium - unlike a book with a CD, this
brings the two into extreme collision. Having now worked through with
many
of the contributors to the Sound/Text section (as Jennifer calls it), I
find
there are many differing ideas as to the relation between page and
performance, image and utterance and these have disrupted my own ideas
usefully. Most medium-specific work that I have come across on the Net
so
far is doing things that I do not get thrilled by or, at least, is doing
things I am delighted that someone else is doing, but I wouldn't want to
do.
Computers are still so very useful to me as pens, printers, publishers,
postboxes, performance aids that I don't feel any need, yet, to force
myself
to come up with some idea that exploits more of the medium's
possibilities.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
Great set of questions, Jennifer. Thanks for asking me to take part in
this
roundtable. Short answer: totally. Long answer: in late 1995, when I
first came
onto the Web, I sensed that web conventions would be an important area
for me.
The innovations that were flowing for the web browsers were astounding:
tables,
frames, forms and then the little bits of Java Scripting that made popouts
and rollovers possible . (I imagine myself as Jackie Joyner-Kersee jumping over
the
hurdles.) I felt and still do that these are psychologically important
to the creator
and viewer. With each individual work, I focused on a new convention.
That
isn't all I was doing but was one significant variable. Moving Toward the
Light, among
other things, was a series of meditations on light and the solstice. It
also dealt
with rollovers!
Since late 1998, I've been experimenting with dynamic html. I started
by downloading scripts from the DHTML Zone and
from Dynamic Drive, and gradually learning
how to control
and make them unique. Compared to the Java Applets-text and image
effects that I'd been working with -- the dhtml Java Scripts were a lot more
digestible to
my Mac friends and had a shorter loading time for both systems.
Finally, I downloaded a one-month free trial of Dreamweaver, an editor
that
codes page divisions and does some Java Scripting. At Christmas I
received
my own copy. I don't mean to wax lyrical about any specific product,
it's the
thinking that's behind dynamic html that I think is liberating. Some
people
seem concerned with the idea of a matrix, which is fundamental to dhtml,
they feel you're going somewhere you shouldn't, into another
dimension. I
have the opposite sense. Much of literature and art have become surface
attractions. Dynamic html allows infinite penetration. Whereas much of
early
hypertext was concerned with navigation and linking page-to-page to a
new
address, a new URL, I think now, hypertext can enjoy more depth, more
interactivity and a sense of unfolding.
2. Who/what would you say were your influences when you first turned to
the
computer/Internet to generate and disseminate your work?
Robert Kendall:
When I first started doing this stuff, I was only dimly
aware of a handful of other people in the field. We were few and far
between back then. I encountered Rod Willmot's long hypertext poem
"Everglade" sometime in the early '90s, and it helped open my eyes to
the
possibilities of using hypertext extensively. Generally, though, I had
very
few examples to follow in the beginning and was motivated mostly just
by a
fascination with the untapped literary possibilities of electronic
media. I
sensed that the computer screen was the medium that was most truly and
uniquely of our own time and that we as writers had to learn to turn it
to
artistic purposes if we were to come to terms with the age we lived in.
Ian Irvine:
I was a relative latecomer to the Web - late 1997 - things
were
pretty much established by the time I came on the scene. Also the
'dissemination of work' aspect went hand in hand with the 'producing a
quality literary e-journal' aspect, so I guess I had a kind of 6 month
crash
course in the whole culture of international literary ezines. What I was
learning there intermingled with what I was learning from the publicity
pages of writers, poets, artists and musicians - many of whom we
interviewed
for The Animist. I guess the pages of the Australian writers Carmel Bird
and
Beth Spencer were a big influence, likewise, I spent a lot of time in
those
early days looking at the Ozlit pages.
My original goal was to use the net to better understand Australian
literature - experimenting with new literary/artistic form only came
later,
and later still came the globalised consciousness which comes from
receiving
submissions, fan emails, communications etc. from arts people all over
the
world.
Sue Thomas:
I was very much alone. I knew of no other fiction writers who
approached computers in the same way that I did. When I was writing
Correspondence I fumbled for who to read, and found some books which
would
turn out to be very relevant for me. Sherry Turkle's sociological study
of
computer users, The Second Self, was extremely clear-sighted and
useful,
and her later book Life on the Screen would also prove to be equally
rich
when I was writing about MOOing. I also read Marvin Minsky's The
Society of
Mind and Joe Weizenbaum's Computer Power and Human Reason, very
different
books but both very insightful into the way we think when we think with
and
about computers. Neil Frude's 1970's study The Intimate Machine is a
great
history of interactions with machines which really helped me to put the
computer into a wider social context. I read and enjoyed Gibson's
Neuromancer but it wasn't until I went online myself that I really
appreciated the uncanny accuracy with which he described the act of
being
logged on - incredible, considering that when he wrote it he had never
been
online himself nor even used a computer. But although I knew a number of
people in the UK science fiction scene, I knew nobody with my take on
computers, and it wasn't until 1995, seven years after I began writing
Correspondence, that I met and heard people with vocabularies for
concepts
I had been struggling to identify for years. At that conference,
GashGirl
was a major influence, but so too was another Australian performance
artist,
Stelarc, whose symbiotic relationship with his machines so closely
mirrored
my own imaginings that I was speechless with excitement when I watched
him
wire up his body so that the audience could direct his movements by
remote
control. To summarize, as a writer I even now feel pretty much alone,
but as
an artist and theorist I can now identify a number of people whose work
is
extremely important to me.
Alaric Sumner:
I first got an email account in 1993-4 at university. I
hardly used it. I don't remember looking at the Internet at all. But in
1996
I started to use email from work and found old friends through
newsgroups. The Electronic Poetry Center is a useful resource, as is UbuWeb, but again I find it hard to
focus on the Net and computers as if they were separate from, different
from
other aspects of my life and work - N Katherine Hayles Chaos Bound was
very influential on my thinking (leading me to Shannon and Weaver and
Information Theory), and Stanley Fish's Is there a text in this class?
gave me a sense of recognition of ideas I hadn't yet realized I was
already
thinking. But I can't dissociate the net/puters from so many other
aspects
of thought to be able to answer the question. Hakim Bey's concept of
Temporary Autonomous Zones has been a delight to dance with (echoing
for
me some of the ideas in Joanna Russ's superb The Female Man).
As a
paper editor and publisher, I hate dealing with printers, I can't stand
distribution. I have always had problems with copyright and consumerism
- I
don't think copyright protects 'authors' from anything. I think work is
transformed into something different from itself when it is paid for.
Value
and money are incompatible to me. So, in many ways the Internet is a
newfound haven. But it has also provided me with opportunities
(including
financial ones) which I would not have expected.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
Circa: late 1995. I could see how much
easier
joining image and text would be -- something I was already doing in the
small press
world. "Red Mona" was my first piece online. Bradley Spatz, a computer
science engineer, developed a random script for that project.
I can't say any one artist
or writer influenced my style or form on the Web.
I was a mature artist by the time I arrived. On the other hand, I much
admired
Mark Napier and Levi Ascher's "Chicken Wire Mother" at Enterzone and
Terry Spatero's "Angels." Mark and I once discussed how overwhelmed we
were by the luminosity of pixels on the computer screen. Janan Platt
was/is doing interesting experiments with sound, text and image. Right
away, I had a preference for those
who regarded the Web as a medium.
Something that kept me going, more support than influence, was meeting
Karl Young and Marjorie Luesebrink. No one knows more about visual
poetry
than Karl. He has been a publisher and poet forever. We'd have
spirited debates,
but more importantly I always felt he had some things to teach me. Not
just about the history of visual poetry but a way of understanding.
Now, Karl
has published quite a bit of my work online at Light and Dust. But we
had many,
many discussions-maybe for a year-before that opportunity arose.
Margie Luesebrink I picked up on the Web with a challenging remark. I
read an
article on hypertext that she had written and wrote her saying why not
include
me next time. (I imagine myself as Loretta Lynn selling records from
the back of
a flatbed truck.). It turned out that Margie was working on her own
creative work,
and we were able to discuss and support each other. We also like to
present at
academic conferences so we've had the chance to meet and work together
in that
arena, too.
3. Does the Internet fulfill your needs (as the most practical way to
distribute your work) or do you use it because it is a new and exciting
medium to explore, whatever its limits, or for a combination of reasons?
Robert Kendall:
The Web certainly has a purely practical appeal. I wrote
an
article last year for Poets & Writers Magazine ("The World Wide Web:
Publishing's Awakening Giant") arguing
that the Web is fast becoming the best medium for distributing all
types of
poetry. The barriers to distributing poetry in print have become almost
insurmountable for many authors and publishers, and the Web removes many
of
these roadblocks.
For interactive writing the Web is the ideal distribution method -- far
better than CD-ROM or floppy disk. It eliminates the problems of dealing
with disks, software installation, and the chasm between Windows and
Mac. Just as importantly, people expect interactivity and hypertext in things
published on the Web. Hypertext is no longer something foreign that has
to
be justified and explained, as it was in the pre-Web days.
The Web definitely has its limitations compared to the currently more
mature software environments for disk-based work. Yet today's Web is
merely
the doorstep to an entirely new artistic world that will take shape in
the
next century. In ten or fifteen years it will be possible to do just
about
anything on the Web -- that is the really exciting thing.
Ian Irvine:
I'm also in transition in regard to this question. I've
always
seen myself as a hybrid animal -- poet, musician, writer and academic --
it's
just how I work. Some of these disciplines are well served by the Web
and in
all honesty I'd have no problem distributing my output from these
creative
disciplines purely through the WWW. In the areas of poetry, academic
writing
(essays), short stories, editing an ezine, the Web is already the best
place
to operate for a variety of reasons - direct access to informed
international audiences, cheap distribution, immediacy of response, you
name
it. Having said that I recently had a story published in Southern Ocean
Review and an essay published by The Antigonish Review and I admit it
was
exciting to be published both in print and online.
The novelist, non-fiction writer (longer pieces) and musician sides of
me
are more hesitant about the value of the Web, in those realms I want to
see
my novels and longer non-fiction pieces appear as published books and my
songs appear as CD-ROMs. I have no hesitation in trying to get my best
short stories and poems published at quality online literary sites, but
I
currently refuse to make my major book length works available on the Web
-- I
put years of effort into those pieces and I refuse to distribute them
for
nothing.
Sue Thomas:
I don't distribute my work online very much. I still see
print as
my main publication medium, and I don't have a very hypertextual brain
so my
attempts at hypertext have been more linear than anything else. In fact
my
most recent 'hypertext', which I began writing online, was purchased by
a
gallery in Adelaide and actually printed out onto paper for exhibition!
But
I feel very emotional about the Web, and about MOOing. I see cyberspace
as
my home and my muse. I spend most of my day there, and most of my
artistic
and professional life happens there. It seems to me that the Lake poets
--
Wordsworth, Coleridge et al -- took much of their inspiration from a
certain
type of landscape, and in my case, it is the cyber landscape which
intrigues
me. But I also write about the organic landscape -- the sea, farmland,
the
wilderness -- and I find that the two easily interact. An example of this
is
the series "Imagining a Stone" which is a combination of essay,
interpretation, and MOO texts, and which also refers to the sculpture of
Andy Goldsworthy, who in my opinion manipulates the landscape from the
physical until it becomes virtual.
Alaric Sumner:
I use the net because it provides the opportunities I
need
now. I wanted to combine text and sound. I couldn't do that easily in
another medium, so I turn to the net and Jennifer pops up waving and
smileyfaced :). For me still at the moment, it is working that way
round. I
want to do a piece with a soundscape that I can perform with live -- Ah!
here
is the technology that can do that. I am sure, soon, I will find that
the
equipment will start demanding that I deal with its opportunities, but
even
with such a simple thing as scanning, it has only been during the
creation
of this issue that I have realized that a whole area of my work which I
have
hardly touched since 1987 would be easily possible (in one form) on
screen.
Again, this is an idea from outside the technology which will work more
easily and be more easily distributed on it. However, Lawrence Upton
asked
me today if he could put a book I published of his in 1978 Mutation on to the Web
since we have few copies left. Of course, I agreed, but I am aware that
the
texture of the paper and card of the cover (which took hours of decision
making) and the smell of the ink, which have been part of my experience
of
the poem since I first bound the first copy in the Poetry Society in
Earls
Court, London, will be lost. My screen has seen hundreds of images and
texts, but handing books or originals -- one of Carlyle Reedy's fragments
or
Wendy Kramer's RAIS Art of Fire is a thrill few readers of this issue
will
have. Yet every reader of Mutation had a unique copy (! if you see what I mean). Our screens
don't change for each different work -- all works are presented on the
same
format -- the medium is so much of the message. Sometimes I want to put
my
hand into the screen and touch the work I am looking at. Mindtouch and
bodytouch are so different -- writing is a form of mindtouch but a
well-loved
book is not merely a mindcontainer, it is felt.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
I use it as a way to explore and develop new
work.
I have the pioneer sense and exhilaration that I'm one of those defining
web specific work. (I imagine myself as Gertrude Stein writing the play
"Listen
to Me:"
Curtain.
It is very easy not to be very lively in the morning as the earth is all
completely
covered by people.
Curtain.)
This is the revolution and I feel at home here. I didn't come on the
Web for ease
of distribution; that has been a pleasant byproduct. I was successful
in the small
press world if that means number of publications and grants. But
responsiveness
was always delayed by the post; many people even if they loved
your work wouldn't write you. Many editors who took my work over and
over hardly spoke
to me. Some notable exceptions: Gloria Vando Hickok, Barbara Hamby and
Stephen Paul Martin. Joel Weinstein was a great and caring penpal for a
number
of years. Brian Richards who published a couple of my books invited me
to his
family home and arranged readings.
The response on the Web has been terrific. Linking is exponential. I
receive letters
not just from writers and artists but from people in all walks of life.
Many more
people have responded to me online than ever did in print. The Web
stimulates
searching and people enjoy that as an adventure. It's my responsibility
not to disappoint that instinct. I try to put the work out and to
get linked.
4. Do you use the Internet because you can distribute your work without
interference from publishers? Is it a blessing or a curse that your
work is
available to readers without charge?
Robert Kendall:
A good publisher doesn't interfere but rather supports
and
facilitates by providing editorial help, publicity, and so on.
Publishers
are still important on the Web, and all my electronic poetry for the
Web
appears on the sites of bona fide publishers such as Eastgate Systems
and
the Iowa Review. I do put my printed essays on my own home page,
however,
to give them a wider readership.
Web writing's resistance to becoming a purchasable commodity is a
blessing
for me. No, I don't get any money for my Web publications, but then the
meager payments I get for my poetry published in print or on disk don't
contribute significantly toward my livelihood either. The real
difference is
that the Web removes the commercial barrier for the reader -- the whole
unpleasant business of hunting down a publication, ordering it, and
then
having to fork over the cash. Of course if I were Stephen King I would
feel
differently.
Ian Irvine:
Again I have to answer here for the various different hats!
I
suppose the best way to answer this question is with a statement: I use
the
Web in order to distribute my shorter work [poet, essayist, SS hat] and
the
works of other artists etc. that interest me [Editor's hat]
internationally
at minimum cost. I also use it to publicise myself as a writer, poet
etc.
[novelist, musician, non-fiction writer's hat]. I also use the Internet
because it would take a vast investment from other people, not to
mention
many years of coddling up to publishers and other non-creative types to
launch ventures like The Animist in the traditional print medium.
It's not that I don't want interference from publishers, it's just that I
can't expect other people to invest large sums of money in the kind of
hair-brained artistic ventures I am particularly fond of. Publishers
'interfere' because they want economic return from the artists they take
on.
Before, however, writers celebrate the fact that print publishers and
editors are going the way of the dodo bird we should acknowledge the
important creative services they've traditionally provided for poets and
writers .... The more I write and publish the more I come to appreciate
the
role of 'dispassionate' reviewers of my work. Given the Web medium I
find
I've begun to fall back on fellow writers and the kinds of professional
editing services available through writer's organizations (I belong to
the
Victorian Writers Centre for example) for dispassionate criticism of my
work. In other words we still need professional people to edit our work
-- to
tell us when what we are writing is rubbish -- and that cost has to be
factored into anything a professional writer puts on the Web. One can
do a
great deal of harm to one's writing reputation by ignoring this fact and
publishing material on the Web that is really second rate. I suppose
that's the curse of all web artists/writers without access to informed
criticism. Then there are the legal issues which are, if anything just
as
complex in terms of publishing material in the web environment. There
are
blessings too, however, evolving, experimental works, politically
challenging works, risky works .... works that are professionally
executed
but rejected by mainstream publishers because they threaten the hegemony
or
only appeal to an avant gardist minority. These can get a go on the Web and
gain
an audience. As for the money side of things, we urgently need to find
ways
to make sure that the writers, editors, poets, artists who are serious
about
their craft and who have something of value to say get paid for their
Internet efforts. I don't think 'hits' should be the measuring stick for
popularity, however, adulation doesn't necessarily mean a poet has
something
of lasting value to say.
Sue Thomas:
I've probably answered this above. I will add that I do put
work
online, but it is mostly for the benefit of sharing ideas with a small
number of people. With another hat on, as Director of trAce I try to pay
our
writers a decent fee even though the copyright situation is somewhat
hazy.
It seems to me that we have to set some kind of example and it is
unrealistic to expect everyone to write for no money, but of course we
are
straddling the line between big sites who take advertising, which we
don't,
and the experimental arts community where nobody ever expects to get
paid. I
like to be paid for my work and I think it is very reasonable for
everyone
else to like that too.
Alaric Sumner:
I don't think paying people improves the work. I don't
think
I read a text more carefully because I have paid for it or received it
for
free. If my work has something of value to someone, I want them to have
it.
I am at present in the enviable position of being employed (part-time)
to
teach the work I love and to continue my academic and creative research.
I
have never written in order to receive money and it has been a confusing
and
slightly embarrassing experience to receive money for it -- 'they think
there
is a monetary equivalent?'. However, someone recently sat beside me
reading
my Conversation in Colour (a play about a gay relationship, illness
and
time -- long twisting sentences using colour rather than time to
structure
the minimal narrative). It had been lying next to her and she just
happened
to pick it up. After a while, I suddenly became aware that there were
tears
pouring down her cheeks and she could hardly speak when she finished 40
minutes or so later (I had hardly dared move!). I don't see that her
handing
me a few coins or a year's salary could have added anything of value to
my
experience or to hers. ***?? (clear up syntax here) The late Michael Holloway (now the work's
dedicatee)
reviewed the performance of CinC at the Tate Gallery St. Ives for the
Cornishman, the local newspaper. I believe he paid the Tate for his
ticket, but what better recompense could I have than the confirmation
that I
had constructed a work which spoke as intensely to someone more involved
in
its subject than I, as well as to the general reader.
Turning to publishers, I would argue that they are fundamentally
different
from editors. I am not sure that the poetry scene really has any
publishers
yet in this sense -- people who view the enterprise commercially. Most
(as
with most small press poetry publishers) are actually editors who can't
find
commercial publishers to publish the works they want to edit and so end
up
doing it themselves. Publishing on paper is costly, distribution a
nightmare
for non-popular titles. You can only really do it and do it well if you
get
a return. Editors are enthusiasts (usually?) who want others to get the
excitement they do -- they want to share. On the net we can do this and
the
main cost is our time, once we have access to the equipment. A number of
the
contributors to the Sound/Text section are not wired. Most contributors
have
left me to encode their tapes and set or scan their texts. I have access
to
the facilities and the excitement and urge to share their work with
others.
It is true that the readership that buys experimental paper poetry is
not
usually a poverty-striken grouping, so, to some extent, the net has
broadened the audience -- people buy the computer, the medium, for other
reasons and then the offerings are (comparatively) cheap. Are people
more
likely or less likely to browse a net poetry magazine in their own home or
to
seek out a poetry bookshop?
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
For me, in terms of publishing, the print to
web
experience is seamless. Almost every web piece I finish, I submit
somewhere:
to a gallery showing, ezine or competition. I've always felt it keeps
me
honest to keep submitting. And I like to send to those I've never met
or
who don't know me or my work. My trAce virtual writer-in-residence
position was obtained that way as was my recent Dow Fellowship. The
literary
and art world, maybe as all professions, has a tendency to get chummy
and
suddenly you don't know whether they love you or your work. If your
work
goes over the transom and is accepted you know it's your work. Okay,
could
be the judges are biased in favor of your particular theme. Still, I
think
my argument holds. So I keep sending my work out to total strangers.
And I
share my work with those who've taken it in the past. I try to have
enough
work to satisfy both camps: those who want to continue supporting the
work and
those who are new and want to recognize it. (I imagine myself picking
the
flowers from my garden and giving each panel member a bloom: peach
hibiscus
for Sue, pink rose for Jennifer, pine cone lily for Rob, hot pink gerber
daisy
for Alaric and a blue hydrangea for Ian.)
As a poet/fiction writer/genre fusionist, I made little money. With
experimental literature the public often has the illusion one day you
may be
well paid so you are seldom questioned about it. I won a $20,000 NEA
one year,
but what happened the previous 10 years? Not much financially! With
the
Web, there is this acute realization that there is no money, and so I am
chronically
asked and looked at like poor thing are you out of your mind to be doing
this.
Actually more opportunities have opened to me on the Web than in print.
I can
almost make a living. But the lack of a salable commodity is an
interesting issue.
5. Before using a computer/the Internet to create/disseminate your
work,
what were you doing?
Robert Kendall:
I wrote poems exclusively for print until I was in my
early
30s, and I had a printed book, A Wandering City, published by the
Cleveland
State University Poetry Center in 1992. My early electronic poems were
presented as computer installations at art galleries, museums, book
fairs,
literature festivals, and so on. I would also often set the computer up
before or after my live poetry readings. The installations included
original music and required a lot of specialized hardware, but I also
distributed scaled-down versions on floppy disks, which I sold at the
venues where the work was presented. After Eastgate Systems and I discovered each other, I wrote some
works
for them to distribute on disk. Now I am focusing on the Web. Each
change
in distribution medium has brought with it a significant change in my
work.
Computer-based installations, disk-based software, and the Web all offer
different possibilities and limitations in terms of interface,
interaction,
and multimedia and I had to adapt my approaches to accommodate these.
Ian Irvine:
I suppose the Web has accompanied, to some degree, my
emergence
as a youngish (I'm 35 now) writer/poet etc.. Before hitting the Web I
think
all the different mediums I indulged in were much more bound by locale
... I
was in an alternative rock band called Goya's Child for three or so
years
in the early nineties. Some of the songs I wrote with that band were
recorded and played on various Australian radio stations -- eventually
they
appeared as the sound track to a film which was financed by the
Australian
Arts Council. However, the Australian music market demands that you live
a
certain kind of life in a big city -- not my cup of tea at all. I guess,
looking back on that period now, we would have done things vastly
differently on the promotions side had the Internet been available in
its
current form. I also did a lot of performance poetry (a recipe for
poverty,
substance abuse and heroic obscurity, as one wag described it) around
Victoria and the North Island of New Zealand and I also had some
material
published in Australian/NZ magazines and newspapers. Come 1994 I started
my
doctoral degree and since I was being paid well to research a more or
less
literature-based topic I immediately went into a kind of hibernation in
terms of promoting/performing my work. I was, however, writing an
enormous
amount of material -- novels, poems, plays, short stories, essays, and of
course the thesis on chronic ennui etc. I still have a huge backlog of
unpublished material from that period -- mainly the larger pieces, which
demand more time editing. Once I'd finished the Ph.D. I concentrated on
sending out some of my smaller works (poetry/SS) ... and did something
else
which is a temporary death to the novelist, started a literary ezine! I
guess only a fraction of the material I wrote during the period
1992-1997
has found its way out into the world at large -- and the Web has
certainly
enhanced that process.
Sue Thomas:
There was a big gap in my writing life, and when I returned
to it
in my mid-thirties I also discovered computers for the first time, so
the
two rather developed hand in hand. Until then the majority of my
activities
had been craft-based: I was studying textiles and making sweaters on a
punchcard knitting-machine, as well as dabbling in weaving and knotting
techniques. I was also a keen gardener. So my creative work was very
manual,
and I still see computer work as manual in some senses. Although my html
skills are extremely poor, I know enough to see web design as a manual
craft
rather than a cerebral activity, although of course it is that too. I
think
I belong to the William Morris school of thought, where craft and beauty
and
usefulness all go together. So even though I'm not very good with my
hands,
I have a history of trying and then theorizing about it a lot!
Alaric Sumner:
I was doing the same as I am now -- using the equipment
and
means at my disposal, making work with what I had to hand, using the
postal
system, telephones. Having fun, grief. Publishing and performing.
Because I
am using it as a tool rather than a medium I don't recognize this sense
of
before and after. Maybe I haven't started using the possibilities yet.
Before I used sound equipment to multiply voices, I wrote scores for
multivoice performance. My second book (or was it my third?) in 1976 was a
self-published handwritten book called Imstanit Mhash (I mean each
copy
was written by hand -- each text varied, each book had some different
texts).
I worked with what came to hand.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
Before the computer and the Internet, I was sending out work to literary
magazines
and competitions. My print acceptances around that time were Central
Park,
Chain, Fiction International, To and Membrane. I was working for six
months
as a Visiting Writer at the University of Toledo. My colleague and
friend Joel
Lipman had encouraged me to apply. He shares with me a strong impetus
to join art and writing. One day Joel came into my office and gave me a
stack
of French Flash Cards. I've always been a francophile. (I imagine myself
as
Suzanne Valadon painting in the nude.) Throughout my tenure at U.T., I
was
cutting out images and overlaying text on the Flash Cards to make a
nonlinear
story about a woman who has stepped out of a DeMaupassant short story,
"Two
Little Soldiers." I envisioned this as a work for the Web, as it was
the only way
I could see it being published. I also wanted to explore how it could
be not just
a gallery-type project but a web project. I had French sound files and
a random
cgi script created and the text itself is very hypertextual. By that, I
mean on the
cards themselves, there are multiple meanings, associations and lines of
connection.
"Red Mona" was eventually accepted for the Montreal Maid in Cyberspace
XX exhibition. That was a long time ago. The mountain has been steep.
6. Do you miss the tactile quality of your previous work, the feel of a
pen, paper under your fingers, use of paint, canvas, brush? Or do you
still
make work for other media? If so, how has your use of the
Internet/computer
software affected your other work?
Robert Kendall:
The tactile component of the creative enterprise is
still
very important to me. All of my hypertexts begin as pencil drafts on
pages
that I spread out and shuffle around on the floor. Working with
physical
materials helps me visualize and clarify structural elements in the
early
stages. Even in the latest stages of writing, I prefer to mark up my
revisions in pencil on printouts of the text and then type them into
the
computer. Maybe I'm superstition about actually having to hold something
in
my hand occasionally to prove to myself that it's really there.
Lately I have started again to write a lot of poems for print. I have
begun
to feel the need to get away from the computer sometimes -- partly because
I
have been having problems with repetitive strain injury in my hands
brought
on from typing. I rarely try for nonlinearity in my printed poems -- I am
more
likely to exploit the linearity inherent in the page as much as I can.
Sometimes, however, when I sit down to write a poem for print, I find
that
the text just isn't working on the page -- that it demands to be a
hypertext.
Sometimes the multiplicities in an emerging poem simply overflow the
medium
of paper and can only be captured in software. A similar thing can
happen
sometimes when a writer sits down to write a poem and finds it
demanding to
be a short story instead. Printed linear poetry and interactive
electronic
poetry are two different genres, each with their own unique demands and
possibilities. I write in both genres and try to approach both as
idiomatically as possible.
Ian Irvine:
To be honest I discovered a sensoral (almost tactile for
me)
dimension to writing for the Web that I had completely lost as a print
writer. After the abstraction of mere words on a computer screen and
white
page-print outs which I faced for five solid years whilst writing my
thesis
it was a 'sensoral' relief to create for the Web -- experimentation with
colour and sound being the two things I discovered first. It still
amazes me
that people access The Animist and send us emails applauding the
journal's
design. I've never seen myself as an artist, but necessity is the
mother of
artistic invention and it took me six months before I would acknowledge
the
fact that I had any talent whatso-ever in that area. I'd just done it
for
the hell of it, out of the sheer pleasure I'd felt in mucking around
with
Photoshop. My co-editor Sue King-Smith also does some of the design work
and
she is more comfortable seeing herself as an artist. In terms of sound,
my
computer is hooked up to a band sound system, I tend to design the pages
of
The Animist with hundreds of watts of sound pounding out at me from the
various musicians who appear in our pages. The whole place vibrates ...
pretty tactile I can tell you! The only thing I miss in relation to
writing
for the Internet, which is actually easy enough to correct, is what I'd
call the pleasure of the live public performance, the 'gig feel'. A
friend
of ours up in Queensland wanted to launch The Animist with a number of
the
performers performing their work on a stage backgrounded by huge
projected
images from the pages of the journal. We will do this one day.
Sue Thomas:
I enjoy the tactility of my computers, my psion organiser, my
nokia communicator, and all those other plastic things. :) See my piece
on
technopolyamory -- the art of loving many machines, (note: this site is
often
quite slow). I also adore clean paper, firm black pens, and straight
lines. I
am a messy handwriter but always trying to improve. When writing fiction
I
still do the first draft in longhand on a pad of paper, usually lying
across
my bed. Nonfiction often goes straight onto the screen. Hypertext, of
course, needs a keyboard but there's nothing to stop me from drawing
maps
should I so desire. I write about tactility a great deal -- I am
intrigued by
the way MOOing draws upon the sensorium -- and I do not see computer
activities as non-tactile at all. The tactility is simply stimulated by
associative rather than nervous suggestions to the brain. As regards
another
aspect of tactility, I seldom suffer the usual computer-related physical
problems of backpain, eyestrain, and RSI, but recently I attended a
weekend
course which required a lot of note-taking by hand and I got terrible
pains
in my fingers and wrists. I think I have mutated.
Alaric Sumner:
Most of my work is for performance I suppose this is
why it
is only really the sound element of the Net that excites me yet. Though
my
texts may be published on paper or screen, their end, resolution, aim is
to
get breath to be passed over vocal chords. My visual work frustrates me
so
much that I always end up transforming them -- Due to Stock
Rationalisation
by a Manufacturer (exhibited at the Tate Gallery St Ives) became a
video
with the texts read aloud; Plans for the New Architecture became a
performance at Ferens Gallery Live Art Space, Hull, for 5 speakers and
soundscape by John Levack Drever -- there were gaps of between seven and
ten
years between the creation of the visual and the creation of the
performance. Technology has enabled me to make works in performance that
were impossible, unimaginable or just damned difficult, before. (Though
of
course I have been typing or typesetting my texts since the beginning
and at
a basic level that has obviously affected things like layout and
therefore
affected everything else about the work.) I scanned Wendy Kramer's
pieces a
few days ago and made the videos of her pieces. Handling her works was
fundamentally different from seeing her work on EPC
or even sitting
in
St Mark's Church in New York on January 1 1999 and seeing her handling
her
text while she read it during the Poetry Marathon. To hold the work
yourself
-- to hold the work itself -- is not an experience this medium, these
computers, can provide. I am excruciatingly aware, with Carlyle Reedy's
work, that these are pieces in flux, they are unique and unstable
events.
When I hold a Carlyle fragment, I am holding something that cannot be
reproduced, cannot be stabilised. If I take it back to her flat and
leave it
there I don't know how it will have been transformed the next time I see
it.
By presenting her work, whether on paper or screen in reproduction, I am
only offering a hint at the work's purpose, significance -- yet what else
can
I do? I shout about what she does because I think she is doing something
extraordinary, but I can't show it to you, it is too particular, too
fragile, too timespace-bound, too body/object-bound. I offer the
detritus of
her process -- the beautiful fragment snatched from the flux and fixed,
pinned like butterflies in a drawer covered by glass. I kill them to
present
them. But only to beg you to go hunt out the living specimens -- to beg
you
to go experience them in the wild.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
I don't miss the tactile quality because I
feel
the Web is very tactile and textural. Isn't that funny? I agree with
Sue
on that. It's so visually exciting. In a sense it's like film or video,
you
have the experience of caressing something with your gaze. I feel it
can be very intimate.
I'm thinking about Alaric's response. I see the Web as offering many
chances for performance-based work. The page can and often
does perform itself. But you're right, I've created some live
performance art pieces, and there is a unique energy and responsiveness
that can't be duplicated on the Web. Documented but not realized.
Fortunately, as the late Juan Downey said, any medium that is satisfying
isn't going to disappear.
I hope there will be more cross fertilization. I like very much the
work of Peter Greenaway because I think he brought into film influences
from other disciplines such as painting and the book It's inevitable
that various art forms will affect each other.
7. What software/html programming/javascript/etc. tools do you most
enjoy
using right now? Why?
Robert Kendall:
Right now I am in the throes of developing a software
system
that extends the primitive hypertext capabilities of the Web. The
Connection System, as we call it, centers around a JavaScript library
that
can enhance any work created in HTML. (Details are available at
Word Circuits.) Plain HTML is very limiting, and
our
system helps overcome many of these limitations without requiring
plug-ins
or complex programming. It tracks the reader's progress, recording
where
the reader has been and how much of the entire text has been read. It
allows links and text to be displayed conditionally or randomly. It
helps
guide the reader to new material, helps create closure in a reading,
greatly expands the possibilities for interaction, and helps eliminate
the
unproductive looping and repetition that can dilute a hypertext
reading.
Ian Irvine:
I haven't really experimented with Java yet ... though we've
featured Java pieces in The Animist. I suppose my stock in trade
programmes
are Photoshop, Frontpage, Cool-Edit Pro (which is useful for sound
manipualtion and for saving Wav files into Real Audio), Cakewalk (for
messing around with MIDI files), Word, Illustrator, Premier and, every
now
and then, 3-D studio Max and other programmes capable of creating
interesting highly compressed animated Gifs. Other programmes have come
and
gone, eg. I experimented with Director in regard to producing multimedia
CD-Rom versions of my poems. In regard to The Animist we've tried to do
the
basics right -- we've heard a lot of mixed stuff about Java and to be
honest
given the programmes listed above just about all bases are covered
unless we
suddenly decide to make The Animist into a SitCom.
Sue Thomas:
It will be clear by now that I am not much of an html-er! I
enjoy
MOO programming, although I seldom have time to really explore it and
have
lately been left far behind by our writer-in-residence Bernard Cohen,
who is
now streets ahead of me. I am learning symbolic logic and intend to
extend
that into programmable forms to use as a basis for some texts, but all
that
depends on a mythical block of time which I never seem to get to.
Alaric Sumner:
I do most of my work in -- er, blush -- Claris Works. I
used
Quark XPress in my job in the 80s and found it better then than
Pagemaker,
but if I can pick Joseph Hyde's brains about shockwave and premiere and
director, who knows? I use ProTools for sound. In performance I use CDs
since we have burners, but I hope to explore LISA for live electronics.
I
don't think I am lazy -- I just need the right project which demands a
new
exploration. There is so much to do, I can't spend time learning a range
of
software just on the offchance I might need it. My main interest is
still
the placing of word next to word.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
I've already spoken of Dreamweaver, but I can
say a few more words. With this editor as with some others, you can
switch back
and forth between html and dhtml. A wysiwyg allows you to see the
layout
develop. You can automatically code page divisions and layers. And you
can with a few clicks create a show-hide Java Script without knowing how
to
code or program. This means, you can have a hot link that will open a
layer or
several layers at once. There can be overlapping or a total cover up of
what has
been. In addition, there is the opportunity to create timelines, making
words or
images fly through the air or behave in choreographed ways. What I
think is
most significant about all this is that is causes a temporal and spatial
consciousness.
It creates a geometrization of the interface. I think dhtml will have a
very positive
factor in the evolution of hypertext.
The other program I've been experimenting with is Flash. This is a
vector
graphics program that allows you to make small file-sized movies, which
come up quickly. They are interactive in that you can zoom. I have
some
examples in "Jill Swimming"
, a work that
was in the Aix-en-Provence Art Contemporaine Exhibit
8. Does the Internet give you a diverse audience which was unavailable
to
you before its inception? Or do you worry that your readership is now
largely limited to those who can afford computer equipment or have
access to
it through institutions?
Robert Kendall:
The Internet has certainly broadened the audience for my
electronic work. There are still many people who can't be reached via
the
Web but only through live readings or printed books and magazines,
however
this will change. I expect the day will come when it's pretty near
impossible to buy a telephone or a television set without a Web browser
built into it
Ian Irvine:
My creative works have been presented to many different
types of
audiences over the years. The Internet has undoubtably brought me into
contact with a highly intelligent and diverse international community of
thinkers, poets, artists, musicians etc.. This has been positive all
round
as far as I'm concerned, I owe these people a lot in terms of the way in
which they've supported what we've been doing with the journal and
stimulated my thinking on a whole range of issues (John Kinsella's
poetry
email list has been excellent in this regard). All these people have
contributed a great deal to the evolution of my work. I have no problem
what-so-ever with the fact that these people are computer literate. The
work
I do still gives me a great deal of contact with non-computer literate
arts
people, and a lot of my work is still published in print journals etc.
so to
me the two worlds complement each other, I don't believe in the
so-called
stand-off between web writers/artists and established print
writers/artists.
However, in terms of audience diversity, I sometimes miss the
drunk-punk-
pub audiences I performed to as lead singer in a band. There wasn't a
lot of
informed opinion handed out from these people when it came to which
lyrics
were working and which weren't ... at times criticism was wonderfully
frank
and brutal: cheers when people liked something and flying empty beer
cans
when they weren't!
Sue Thomas:
As a writer about MOOing, my problem is that the world is
divided
into those few hundred who know what the hell it is, and the millions
who
don't! When I first began to write about the programmed environment of
the
MOO I was fascinated as much by the programming commands as anything
else
and very much wanted to use those commands as part of my work. However I
soon discovered that I had not a single reader who understood what I was
talking about. Now I know a few more people who are MOO-literate and
also
interested in writing, and so I feel more enthused to produce something
just
for them, but beyond that it would be impossible to form a connection
with
an audience that is unfamiliar with the terminology. The question of
portraying virtual life in general widens the brief a little, although I
have found that the problem here is that publishers have a concept of
'the
internet novel' which reflects popular misconceptions about the Web
rather
than the realities. The realities are generally less intriguing to them,
unfortunately. What I'm trying to say here is that, working mostly in
print
but writing about the Internet, I need an audience which is web literate
so
that it recognizes and understands what I am trying to do. You don't
need to
be online at the moment of reading my work, but you do need to have
spent
some time online in order to appreciate it.
Alaric Sumner:
As I have written above, the audience is different but
not
necessarily financially better off. However, I am very aware that I have
been in contact with Australians, North Americans, Europeans and even a
few
South Americans, but all are educated, comparatively affluent, part of
the
'global community'. In the 'West' you don't have to be fabulously rich
to
have access to computers, but though my range of contacts has exploded
enormously, I am very aware that it has expanded in a very thin seam,
smashing geographical boundaries rather than social, linguistic or
racial
boundaries. These boundaries are as much in place offline as online. But
the
gap between those of us who have access and those who don't may prove as
difficult to narrow (or abolish) as that between the rich and the poor --
so-called 'representative democracy' doesn't provide mechanisms for
altruism, only for talk about it.
By the way, though I have seen or met at some point most of my
contributors,
with at least three I have never had more than virtual contact. I don't
think there is much difference between this and page publishing in that
I
published work by people I had never met, but the speed and ease of
email
meant that I could ask people I would have found it hard to find a snail
mail address for. Does any one know Cecil Taylor's email address? I have
wanted to publish his texts with his performances of them for years. He
is
one of the missing contributors from my section. There are clips at
UbuWeb.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
Yes, the audience has greatly increased.
Literary
magazine subscribers are a fairly select group. In terms of democracy,
I
think the Web allows much more access. For experimental artists,
the audience is seldom large on any account. I do think people in the
U.S.
have been privileged to have inexpensive servers. I hope for cheaper
access around the world. Yes, I realize some people are not able to buy
a computer, some people are not able to buy a magazine. I know quite
a few poor artists and they have all managed to set up computers. Most
now think it a necessity for networking and for trying to find work.
I recently learned the U.N. Human Development Report 1999 shows that
outside the OECD, only fractions of 1% of the population have Internet
access. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development
accounts for 19% of the world's people and has expanded from Europe
and
North America to include Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Finland,
Mexico,
the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland and Korea.
9. It is unclear to what extent electronic archives of internet work
will
be preserved for posterity. Does the thought of your work being lost
alarm
you or have you started to work with the potential ephemerality of the
medium?
Robert Kendall:
Some of my early works no longer run on modern
computers,
and one doesn't always have time to keep old work updated for newer
systems. Software obsolescence does pose a disturbing threat to
electronic
work. The obsolescence problem should become more manageable in the
future,
though, because the Web is helping to establish more universal and
durable
standards for software than those that existed previously. Our
Connection
System is also partly an attempt to ensure archivability. By
systematizing
and standardizing approaches to advanced hypertext techniques we
increase
the chances that these functions will survive or be easily reproducible
in
years ahead.
I don't think today's Web work is going to disappear in the future, as
long
as there are people around who are interested in preserving it. I do
think
we will inevitably lose details and nuances, however. No matter how
carefully we try to maintain backward compatibility, today's texts will
appear and behave somewhat differently in the browsers of the future.
But
then this sort of erosion process is something to which all artists
have to
resign themselves. Details of musical and theatrical performance
practice,
nuances of linguistic meaning, and even the colors of paint gradually
become murky over the course of generations.
Ian Irvine:
Well The Animist is archived by the Australian National
Library,
so the ephemerality issue is not such a big one for me. I'm at the
stage
where I see print as increasingly ephemeral. Books are incredibly
localised,
they go out of print, they rot, they cost a lot to produce and then to
send
to friends overseas, etc. Unless you're taken up by a publisher your
halfways
to being a business person rather than an artist. Likewise, even if you
are
published you might only be published in one run, in one country.
Electronic information can be stored all over the place more or less
permanently, for little cost and taking up very little space. We keep CD
rom
back ups of everything we do with The Animist, then there's the library
archives, and I think we're also archived by another Australian
cultural
site, instantly accessible from anywhere in the world (I leave the kind
of
preservation issues discussed by Robert above to them), and there's also
the
hard copy print outs I take of most of my work. Added to this because
most
of my serious work is 'text' based (I still don't see myself as a
digital
artist I guess), the preservation issues are not such of an issue to me
....
probably more important for the digital artist, or the musician. My
biggest
disappointment has been in seeing other literary ezines who publish my
work
disappear without a trace, no archives, no lingering pages. That is
very
frustrating, consequently I now save whole ezines I've been published in
to
hard-drive and CD-Rom. I'm also interested in Robert Kendall's comments
regarding the erosion of electronic information ... I think I need
educating
in that area.
Sue Thomas:
At trAce we archive everything we can, including weekly
writers'
journals and the development of web sites by people who are learning with
us.
In terms of my own work, the MOO is as ephemeral as any live
interaction. I
have become accustomed to being very careful about recording any
interaction
I think might be significant, and also recording descriptions of people,
rooms and objects (although I never cite other peoples' work without
their
permission). So I guess you might say that I have chosen to work in the
most
ephemeral of all internet environments but I have established a security
routine to capture that very ephemerality whilst also making sure it is
not
lost. I'm very jealous that Ian's work is being automatically archived!
Alaric Sumner:
Loss is essential, as is change. Robert, Ian and Sue seem
either to regret or fear or ignore it. What is retention? It is
constipation. Performance can't be archived -- only traces, dead things.
So
though I do keep things and make things and sometimes even hope that
some of
the things I do will be around in the future and I also attempt to
retrieve
aspects of passing things (I interview Carlyle about her performance
work in
the 70s and 80s -- 'Language Image Sound Object' (PAJ 61), but I am not
trying to retain or retrieve those events. We are creating something new
and
alive -- a memory. It can't be what it was. I can never again read Samuel
R
Delany's Stars in my Pockets for the first time, never again see my
first
James Turrell, never again hear Amirkhanian's Dutiful Ducks for the
first
time, never again explore for the first time Paul Sermon's Telematic Dreaming. I have no regrets. I have something else to listen to, see, read.
These experiences are fleeting. It is their fragility, emphemerality
that is
their glory. If we had no methods of retention other than speech (as in
the
oral tradition) we would live differently -- would it be a better life?
Who
are we creating for -- each other or posterity? I liked Ian's 'rotting
books'
-- I could work with that. Now, who can write me a degrading virus, a
virus
which would eat away slowly at my cyberworks, yellowing and embrittling
the
'pages', simulating mould and insect damage, hastening catastrophic
collapse
of the software?
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
Yes, of course, as a woman I worry about my
history being lost. I've seen so many examples of that. Much more
progress can be made if people don't have to keep reinventing the wheel.
Civilization profits by the experiences and products of those who have
gone
before. Exclusionary tactics exist cradle to grave. My latest
experience had
to do with a woman. Control issues are genderless.
When my mother moved into a highrise for seniors, she gave me my
father's
paintings. He died when I was nine. He was prominent in Atlanta, had
won
many prizes and had a large body of work. He had sold quite a few
paintings
when he was alive, but many of his art works are now in a bin in my
hallway.
Have you ever tried to place several hundred works? They're good, too.
But
this legacy is quite a responsibility.
I hope my work is preserved, I think it's groundbreaking and has the
power to
inspire others. Even when it's dated, the ideas behind the work are
important
and show a way of thinking. I have a CD burner and I intend to make a
few
archival copies. I've had several publishers approach me about a
retrospective
CD of my work so I'm hopeful it won't all disappear.
I applaud those who have documented performance art events. I've
greatly
profited from seeing images from Carolee Schneemann's performances.
Pina
Bausch, too. These weren't dead to me, Alaric. They offered quite
vital inspiration.
One issue of archiving is quite amazing. You can keep changing the
work!
I suppose technically the work is not really archived if that is the
case.
10. What do you think the future holds for the Internet writing/art
community? How do you plan to affect this community?
Robert Kendall:
This is probably the question I am asked most frequently
and
it's certainly the one that is hardest to answer. As I said earlier, I
think the Internet is likely someday to become the preferred venue for
all
new poetry and short fiction. Hypertext poetry and fiction will become
more
popular and successful as improved software eliminates the problems
that
readers now sometimes encounter (disorientation, redundancy, lack of
direction, lack of closure). Eventually the fields of serious
art/literature and commercial entertainment (i.e., computer games) are
bound to interpenetrate more, resulting in more sophisticated technology
for
the former and higher artistic quality in the latter. Whatever else
happens, one thing is certain: the Web is going to bring us all manner
of
things we couldn't possibly even conceive of now.
What will I contribute to the Web community? Well, I try to do my bit by
writing hypertext, teaching it through the New School, publishing it on my
Word
Circuits Web site, writing about
it,
and developing software to facilitate creating it. I am particularly
interested in fostering hypertext structures that are more intelligently
responsive to the ways that readers poke and prod at them. I want to
see a
body of hypertext that is as satisfying, stimulating, and rewarding to
intelligent readers as the body of printed literature created in our
time.
Ian Irvine:
I think Robert has answered the first part of this question
pretty thoroughly (see above). I'd only add that I see a greater and
greater
shift toward live web performances by artists/writers/poets/musicians
etc.
stationed in different parts of the globe. Cyber literary festivals? At
times in editing The Animist over the past two years Sue and I have felt
like we were the managers of some kind of theatre production -- we were
trying to co-ordinate musicians, writers, artists, designers etc. from
all
parts of the globe to produce a whole that worked -- the kind of
'site/performance (?)' we put out in February of this year. We have a
real
sense of community with many of the people who have appeared in The
Animist,
I've also had the same feeling working with other literary ezine editors
on
the kinds of issues under discussion in this round robin discussion. I
also
feel excited about the prospects for electronic books ... when people
start
buying genuinely readable electronic books which, of course, can
download
novels, interactive novels, longer non-fiction pieces and music at small
cost, off the World Wide Web, I think we'll have reached a seminal
point in
the literary revolution we're currently living through. I'm also
extremely
excited about the new literary forms being birthed in this medium -- in
this
sense the themes of 'spatialisation', 'interactivity', 'sound/video
accompaniment' and ' non-linear layering of texts' will become
increasingly
important -- who knows what people will come up with!
My role in all this? Well along with the other editors at The Animist I
spend a lot of time educating people about the benefits of this new
medium
through public lectures and the like. I'm also a founding member of ILEF
which is an international organisation devoted to articulating and
working
through many of the problems that currently beset editors who want to
publish quality literature on the Internet. Other than that I guess I'll
keep on trying to expose the Web and general audiences to quality poets,
writers, thinkers, artists, musicians etc. as published through The
Animist.
Sue Thomas:
I think that the artform currently developing online will
eventually be simply called 'Web', and it will be a multimedia form
which
encompasses any new technological practice as it arrives. Some
web artists
will focus on text, some on sound, some on visuals, but each work may
well
contains aspects of all of those. The Internet will also be more
recognized
as a social and political milieu which will be better understood and
therefore work like mine which commentates upon it will be more
accessible
to more people. I hope that my own writing will continue to resonate
with
those who are interested in the medium. As regards trAce, I think it is affecting the writing community already
simply by connecting
practitioners with each other and providing them with a place to meet
and
work. I very much enjoy that sense of community and atmosphere and look
forward to its continuation and growth.
Alaric Sumner:
I had hoped that the future held disorientation,
redundancy,
lack of direction and lack of closure for the writing community until I
read
Robert's reply. It seems to me that these are some of the things the Net
does best and are central to its advantages over other forms. I do hope
it
doesn't cling desperately to the old stabilities. I suspect we will end
up
with money and irrational 'Rationalism' and the dream mongers rampaging
with
their shiney new expensive software. And in the virtual equivalent of a
Poetry Centre's basement, poor poets will crank out ignored, 'deathless'
works on the virtual equivalent of the Roneo or Gestetner (remember the
Gestetner?). Junk mail will have so clogged the email system that no one
will use it any more. Internet pages will be too expensive to lodge on
crammed servers without advertising. Poets will wander (virtually) from
smokey rooms upstairs in cyberpubs to almost deserted cyberchatrooms
offering each other their latest hypertexts.
The division between the cyber community, an 'us', and a 'them' is one I
reject (and I mean reject as an action, a political act). I would hope
to be
part of the creation and dissemination of works which disorient,
multiply,
wander and open up new possibilities for experience in any medium,
including
the various digital media. In particular I would seek to blur the
distinctions between the media -- clashing body with machine, hearing
with
vision, object with digit. Michael Woolf said this morning on BBC Radio
4,
'Watch out for homogeneous product'. I hope he meant it as a warning
rather
than an encouragement.
Christy Sheffield Sanford:
I am optimistic. I think hypertext will
develop
into a satisfying form. In my latest web essay, Rob, I have a page or
two
devoted to the question of what is satisfying-in past literature and in
current
Hypertext efforts and, in general, what forms are satisfying. Those
questions
haven't been addressed for quite some time because the whole issue of
aesthetics
has been taboo. Satisfaction is inescapably in that philosophical
area. I feel
you're on the right track there. I think there will be more depth in
literature
and art due to the penetrable matrix idea. Sue, I hope there will be
more wonderful communities like trAce. You're a model, a role model.
Ian, you mentioned spatialisation. I've used the phrase
spatial-temporal and sometimes spatio-temporal.
I think we're in agreement on the importance of that whole area for the
Web.
It's a new dawn but right now it's my bedtime. (I imagine myself as
Saint
Theresa flying across the night sky dropping rose petals all over the
world. A
great poet, Sainte-Therese de Lisieux.)
_____
Please use our discussion forum, Riding the Meridian,
generously provided by Sue Thomas at trAce, the
Online Writing Community, to add
your thoughts to this dialogue. You will have to register in order to post to the forum, so the first time you visit you'll find a screen to set up your user name and password.