Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Between Real and Ideal by Caitlin Jones and Lizzie Muller


BETWEEN REAL AND IDEAL: DOCUMENTING MEDIA ART
Caitlin Jones, #3 223 St Marks Ave., Brooklyn, New York. 11238. USA. E-mail: <caitlin.jones@gmail.com>.
Lizzie Muller, Creativity and Cognition Studios, University of Technology, Sydney, PO Box 123, Broadway, NSW 2007, Australia. E-mail:

Abstract
This paper describes a new approach to documenting media art which seeks to place in dialogue the artist’s intentions and the audience’s experience. It explicitly highlights the productive tension between the ideal, conceptual existence of the work, and its actual manifestation through different iterations and exhibitions in the real world. The paper describes how the approach was developed collaboratively during the production of a documentary collection for the artwork Giver of Names, by David Rokeby. It outlines the key features of the approach including artist’s interview, audience interviews and data structure.

Introduction
Art historians, conservators and curators all look to documentation to support their research and their ability to preserve artworks, maintain collections, and mount exhibitions.  Media artworks rarely exist as static, discrete and unique objects, but rather as collections of components, hardware and software, which together create time and process based experiences. Such works may change radically depending on the contextual conditions of their staging. Even the material components of such works are subject to rapid change due to technological obsolescence. Documentation is, therefore, increasingly important in media art, as it provides a continuing source of knowledge as to how a particular work manifests over time.

Traditional models of documentation are not well adapted to such works. Recent attempts to develop new models for documenting media art offer flexible paradigms which focus on the processes of creation and exhibition, rather than on static objects [1, 2]. However, there is still an important gap around the documentation of the audience’s experience of the work, and ways to integrate experiential documentation with other information [2]. In late 2007 we were awarded research residencies at the Daniel Langlois Foundation Centre for Research & Documentation to explore ways of documenting media art. The result was a case-study documentary collection for the artwork Giver of Names (19912004), by David Rokeby. Through the creation of this case-study we have developed a promising new approach which draws together the artist’s intentions for the work and the audience’s experience. The approach creates a dialogue between the ideal, conceptual existence of the work and its actual manifestation through different iterations and exhibitions in the real world.

David Rokeby’s Giver of Names David Rokeby is an artist who has written extensively about his work, particularly on his iterative production methods and the importance of audience experience. He is highly reflective and articulate about his process and intent. Giver of Names is an interactive piece which requires considerable participation from the audience in order to be activated. It has a long exhibition history and has evolved through many iterations. Significantly, however, Rokeby suggests that the work has reached its “sweet spot,” [3] where few changes are envisaged in the future. This creates an excellent opportunity to review the work’s history and create a record of its existence at this moment in time. The documentary collection for Giver of Names, which is the basis of this article, can be accessed on the website of the Daniel Langlois Foundation [3].

Between Real and Ideal
At the beginning of this collaborative project we reflected on the relationship between our two different research perspectives. Jones’ approach, based on the tools of the Variable Media Network, focused on the artist's intentions as a means to illuminate conservation considerations. The key principle of this approach is to record information about the essence (or “kernel”) of an artwork, independent of the media in which it manifests. It privileges the relationship between the conceptual aspects of the work (the ideas behind the artist’s intentions) and technical aspects of the work (encompassing the decisions the artist has made in regards to the physical components, software, installation and environmental factors of the work). Muller’s approach focused on the experiential aspects of the work, based on how the artwork "occurs" for audience members in the real world. Her research emphasizes the argument that media artworks (particularly interactive installations) exist primarily in human experience, rather than as discrete objects. The strategy of this approach is to create a lively portrait of the art work as it actually occurs through in-depth interviews with real audience members. The background, rationales and methodologies of these two approaches are detailed in [4] and [5].

As we began to gather documentation we were faced with an apparent conflict between our perspectives; whilst Jones’ approach sought to identify an “ideal” form for the work through an exploration of a work's medium-independent qualities, Muller’s approach emphasized the “real” experiences, which were often very far from the expected or desired description given by the artist. The gap between artist’s intentions and audience experience is not a new realization in terms of art theory. The poststructuralist critical revolution of the last century has established the authorial position as only one privileged, but not definitive, perspective on the interpretation of an artwork. However, this gap remains a problem for documentary and preservation strategies in ephemeral art where, in the absence of a clear, discrete and material art-object, the artist’s intentions have, in many cases, provided the touchstone for how a work will be preserved, restaged and described in the future. We recognized a productive tension forming between our approaches and between the “real” and “ideal” versions of the artwork that motivated them. Both approaches challenge the authority of the other in a useful way, and each offers the other complimentary information— creating a richer, deeper and more complex overall picture. The Variable Media Network approach is designed to capture detailed information about the artist’s intentions and the degree of variability of technical components of the work. This notion of the ideal version of the work usually grows from the artist’s experience through numerous installations or ‘versions’ of a work. By looking for consistencies and difference in these versions, this approach gives conservators a clearer picture of what elements of a work are important, in the eyes of the artist, to preserve over time. It therefore constructs an idea of the work that may not have ever existed in an exhibition context. The experiential approach, on the other hand, captures real world experiences that provide a rich and detailed picture of the work as it existed, but does not provide essential technical information about how and why it was achieved.

While our approaches were never mutually exclusive of each other, explicitly recognizing the tension between real and ideal provided us with a strategy to solve problems within our individual approaches and develop what we believe to be a useful holistic approach to the documentation of media artworks. In our combined approach we have sought to draw together both ideal and real accounts of the work—without erasing or smoothing over their differences. Rather, in this collection we have tried to preserve and exploit the tension in several ways: first in our methods of creating documentation, including our interview with the artist and our interviews with the audience; second in our approach to structuring and ordering data within the repository; and third in the creation of “access points,” which link together information describing aspects of the ideal version of the work with records of its actual manifestation.

Our Process
Artist Interview
We developed a combined method for conducting an artist interview that drew together our two research perspectives. The medium-independent questions of the Variable Media Questionnaire framed the conceptual and technical aspects of the work. These were placed, by Muller, within an experiential context using tools from human-centred interaction, including “Personas and Scenarios,” a technique which involves telling the “story” of an artwork from the perspective of an imaginary audience member [6]. This created a valuable dialogue between “real and ideal.” Framing the discussion in experiential terms enhanced our understanding of why, in certain circumstances, Rokeby had made particular decisions, and this frame allowed us to create links between different versions of the work and to account for changes that have occurred over time. Additionally, by interviewing Rokeby during an installation period, we were able to probe his choices about the technical aspects of the work at the precise moment when variable decisions were being made. This timing further elicited rich and specific details about his experiential goals and assumptions. Our hybrid method allowed us to generate an interview that has clear links to both the audience interviews and the conceptual and technical background information that we have gathered. As such, the artist’s interview can act as a lynchpin for the collection without claiming to provide a definitive account of the work.

Audience Interviews
Using techniques adapted from humancentered design, ethnography and oral history, Muller interviewed a total of 28 people, including general visitors, invited participants and museum guards [3, 5]. Each of the interviews presents a unique experience of the work, and together they represent a cross section of ages, occupations and self-identified levels of experience with art. The interviews were based on two methods: semistructured interview and video-cued recall (in which the participant simultaneously describes their experience of an artwork, whilst watching a video of their encounter). Both methods aim to record rich descriptions of the way in which each experience unfolds through time, as well as capturing information about the participants’ motivation, thoughts and opinions about the work [5].

Data Structure
Traditional arrangement in archival studies follows a principle of “respect des fonds” meaning that the original order in which the records were kept is a key element in maintaining the integrity of a collection of documents. In the case of a created collection, however, rules of arrangement of documentation and standardization are less prescribed. Jones has outlined a number of current data structures proposed in the field of media art preservation and documentation [4]. The aim of our structure is not to create a hierarchy of information, but to allow for a drilling down of information from the general to the specific and back. This reflects traditional archival arrangement and is in keeping with standards for media art documentation, such as Richard Rinehart's Media Art Notation System [7] and V2's Capturing Unstable Media Conceptual Model [1].

Access Points
While it is not our intent to provide an analysis of the material in the collection, we hope the arrangement and description of the elements articulates the relationship between audience experience, artists’ intentions, the conceptual and technical/installed aspects of the work and other contextual factors. We have provided multiple access points into the information through a series of access points that will help users of the collection make connections between different forms of material within the documentation.

Conclusion and Significance
Maintaining the tension between the ideal notion and the real manifestation of Giver of Names in the case study produced a productive way to reconcile the way in which ephemeral artworks exist in the world and the way they are represented in archival contexts. The result is a collection of documentation that provides multiple perspectives of the work, as well as multiple layers of information, held together with—but not superseded by—the idea of a unified ideal. Rather than creating an authoritative collection of documentation, which establishes a fixed identity for the work, our approach seeks to capture its mutability and contingency through the dialogue between its experiential, conceptual and technical aspects. This strategy, we believe, enables us to create a more, not less, “complete” account of the work. By allowing future researchers to understand more deeply the occurrence of the work in a particular place and time, we believe that our approach offers them a field of possibilities relating to the work, enabling them to act confidently, in their own time and place, in respect to their own conservation work, research, restaging or exhibition projects.

Text Box: TransacTionsReferences and Notes
R. Fromme. and S. Faulconnier, “Capturing Unstable Media Arts: A Formal Model for Describing and Preserving Aspects of Electronic Art”, in U. Frohne, J. Guiton, and M Schieren, eds. Present Continuous Past(s) : Media art : Strategies of Presentation, Mediation and Dissemination. (Heidelberg: Springer Verlag, 2004).
A. Depocas, J. Ippolito and C. Jones, eds., Permanence Through Change: the Variable Media Approach (Montreal: Daniel Langlois Foundation, New York: Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 2003).
C. Jones and L Muller, Documentary Collection: Giver of Names, by David Rokeby (Montreal: Daniel Langlois Foundation, 2008).
C. Jones, State of the Art of Documentation
(Montreal: Daniel Langlois Foundation, 2008).
L. Muller Towards an Oral History of New Media Art (Montreal: Daniel Langlois Foundation, 2008).
S. Bodker, “Scenarios in User-Centred Design— Setting the Stage for Reflection and Action,” Interacting With Computers 13 (2000) pp. 61-75.
R. Rinehart “The Media Art Notation System: Documenting and Preserving Digital/Media Art,” Leonardo 40, No. 2, (2007) pp. 181-187.

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Chicago Style Citation
Jones, Caitlin, and Lizzie Muller. "Between Real and Ideal: Documenting Media Art." Leonardo 41, no. 4 (August 2008): 418-419. Art Full Text (H.W. Wilson), EBSCOhost (accessed March 07, 2017).

Next Memory City from Border Crossings




TITLE:
NEXT MEMORY CITY
SOURCE:
Border Crossings 21 no4 36-40 N 2002
The magazine publisher is the copyright holder of this article and it is reproduced with permission. Further reproduction of this article in violation of the copyright is prohibited.

    "Next Memory City" is a collaborative project involving architect and curator MICHAEL AWAD, pianist and sound artist EVE EGOYAN and multimedia artist DAVID ROKEBY. Their project was chosen to represent Canada at the 2002 Venice Biennale in Architecture and was on exhibition at the Canadian Pavilion from September 8 to November 3.
    The following forum is a collage of separate responses by the artists to questions that have been removed. It is an exercise in interstitial reduction.
    MICHAEL AWAD: The project was based not only on urban space, but on the lack of architecture. Even though David and I had never met, we were working on exactly the same projects, except that I was working in an analog form and he was working in a digital form. My piece is specific to Toronto: one image of Chinatown, four minutes of activity recorded in the heart of the most densely populated part of the city. But it records without any architecture in the background; it only registers things that happen or change--people, automobiles and movement.
    DAVID ROKEBY: There's a fundamental link between what Michael is after in his photographs and what I've been interested in since the early '80s in tracking, monitoring and translating movement through my video systems. I find the more I look at Chinatown, the richer it gets. What was interesting in retrospect was trying to figure out how to balance a live, moving image and a still image from the perspective of the viewer. And it has something to do with time: Michael's piece requires time to view successfully.
    AWAD: What we really tried to create in our pavilion was a pause. Amongst all these other pavilions with high-powered architecture and an overwhelming focus on buildings, our space was a bit of a quiet, dark oasis where people could actually stop for a while. On many levels we counter-programmed by presenting an installation that focussed attention on urban space devoid of buildings. But I can't imagine the installation without the sound. As soon as the sound came up, it engaged the images so directly. It became integral.
    EVE EGOYAN: The sound definitely seemed to draw the images off the wall and into the space with the people. My work was on the ground and on the ceiling. On the ground I placed the same stones that were used on the Giardini walkways, and that made the floor both visual and auditory. We wanted to create an atmosphere where people, when they were looking at other people, would have a sense of themselves in the space. There were also moments of silence where the images went back to the walls and everyone was left just with themselves. We had eight channels along the ceiling and we had sounds that were really intense--a vaporetto and a streetcar. There were sounds from Venice and Toronto, and I had to work with the combination of them as if they were orchestral. For me, it was a question of thinking about the two cities and what their sounds represent. Toronto sounds are upbeat, they have vivacity, largeness and multi-ethnicity. Venice is slow, quiet, extremely transparent and really lovely to record. If there is such a word, it was autogenic. Collecting sounds was almost like creating a palette, which we then took to the pavilion to see if all the colours were appropriate.
    ROKEBY: Venice is an extraordinary city because there is such a depth-of-field of sound that you're always hearing people around the next corner. We really got into that and made a lot of recordings of a densely populated space like San Marco, and then individual footsteps going down isolated passageways, and everything in between. When we came back to Toronto, it was frustrating because the depth-of-field that was so seductive was gone. Mostly because of the fan noise from the office tower ventilators that are like sound blankets.
    EGOYAN: In Venice people didn't have to raise their voices above the general blur of sound, which is constant in Toronto. On our streets you can have an intimate conversation and some degree of privacy because there is so much sound around. In Venice, because you can hear everything, you can't do that. It can be irritating. We were in an apartment and you could hear everything the neighbours did. And where were the musicians? It would be quite an adjustment to practise there. I couldn't imagine it. But the way the sounds captured the two environments we were dealing with could be quite beautiful. Both of us were using intuition in the editing process about what sounds to use where. It was also a lot of fun because when you put the sound into a computer, it became so malleable, so manoeuvrable.
    AWAD: The pavilion is quite quirky. It's the only structure on the Biennale grounds that doesn't have a 90-degree angle and dealing with it can be a love-hate thing. From what we heard, this may be the first time that the space has been used in a highly sympathetic way. Architecturally speaking, I kept referring to it as a half-doughnut. What we did was fit all 120 feet of "Chinatown" on the outside wall of the pavilion, and then we built two walls in a v-shape on the inside, on which David could project the images he had gathered on San Marco. The sound piece, which was called "Channel," brought the two images together. It worked both spatially and metaphorically. The actual editing was a digital technology that spatialized the sound and moved it back and forth across the channel. We've been calling this place the Inter-city, primarily because it's between both cities while it exists as neither one. At the same time, it focusses attention on the interior of the city, which is something very deliberate. "Interstitial" is a great word for it; something in between that represents both but is neither.
    ROKEBY: When I was thinking about the flow through public space, there was always, in my mind, the notion of water, hence "Channel." And as Eve pointed out when we were standing in the pavilion after the stones were laid down, you did imagine you were in a drained canal. But the rawly expressed Inter-city was not as important to me as the basic notion of public space. What makes public space unique but also universal is that it's formed by people. It's still a socialized space and its very basic human needs, desires, likes and dislikes define how the space works and what happens there.
    AWAD: We're not trying to represent or recreate an urban environment; we're actually showing you things that you couldn't see otherwise, but they are things that are happening in front of you at every moment. It's as if our eyes were programmed differently, or if we were able to remember things differently. We were trying, in a very distilled way, to present qualities of the city that may be allusive.
    EGOYAN: I'm not a composer. I'm more of an interpreter but I think people associate me with being a composer because I play, almost exclusively, the music of my time. And I improvise, too. So it's in the nature of the things I do to find a way to invite people into hearing things without any fear. I work with new music and a lot of people who are familiar with classical music have real problems going to hear stuff they've never really heard before. I try to open people up to the pure act of listening.
    ROKEBY: In my work and in Michael's--in different ways--there is a perceptual displacement. This is a strategy that I've pursued for a long time; looking at the way a banal, familiar or completely readable image is radically renovated by putting it through some fairly straightforward filters. In a lot of my work I'm trying to remove the familiarity of things. This process of perceptual destabilization, especially in relation to very familiar stuff, is connected to my notion of language. It's a very expanded idea of language as any codification, where you stop dealing with raw experience and start replacing it with concepts, ideas and words. We have a tendency to get trapped in the terms and symbols we choose to apply to things. My hope is that destabilization will shake off those symbols, momentarily, and give us a way of re-reading and rejuvenating what is very conventional experience.

This page and facing page: Canadian Pavilion, 8th International Architecture Exhibition of the Venice Biennale, 2002, presented by Alphabet City and InterAccess. Photographs countesy Alphabet City and InterAccess.
Source: Border Crossings, November 2002, Vol. 21 Issue 4, p36, 5p
Item: 505021941


Chicago Style Citation



Techno Hectoring by Christopher Bradshaw


Techno Hectoring by Christopher Bradshaw

AUTHOR:
Christopher Brayshaw
TITLE:
Techno Hectoring
SOURCE:
Border Crossings 20 no2 135-6 My 2001
The magazine publisher is the copyright holder of this article and it is reproduced with permission. Further reproduction of this article in violation of the copyright is prohibited.

    The first things you see, once your eyes adjust to the dim light of David Rokeby's video installation, Watch, are two wall projections, two slightly different views of the same downtown intersection: cars waiting for the light and pedestrians clustered on the sidewalks. Wait a moment; the walk signals flash; the pedestrians begin to cross, then abruptly freeze in place, like still holograms through which the speeding cars aim. Another moment, and the cars blur into long trails of light, the dark pavement overlaid with the trace of successive vehicles' passing.
    These changes unfold so imperceptibly that neither projection seems to change much; you can't point and say, here is where it changed, as you can with a film cut, because the changes only occur in discreet aspects of the otherwise static scenes. In this, Rokeby's work is closely related to a number of other recent artworks that consciously blur the boundaries between a still and a moving image. I'm thinking, for example, of the Per Kirkby-designed "chapter headings" for Lars Von Trier's Breaking the Waves, which look for all the world like mobile J.M.W. Turner paintings, and, closer to home, the video loops and "projected stills" Vancouver artist Mark Curry recently exhibited at the Western Front.
    In Rokeby's case, the work does not remain physically divorced from viewers because, at intervals, an image of the audience is projected onto the wall in a space previously occupied by one of the intersection images. In this way, Rokeby suggests that human consciousness is shaped by technology, that our access to events we did not personally experience is always mediated by imaging and surveillance technologies. But--and this is a big but--the mind-numbing thematic literalness of this piece renders it a deeply unsatisfying work of art.
    By including viewers "in the picture," Rokeby implies that we are as effortlessly absorbed into his project's surveillance routines as are the lines of cars and shoppers--just look, there we are! The problem is, the shock of recognizing yourself "in the picture" in no way equals wholehearted identification with Rokeby's thesis, but, rather, provokes impatience with the artist's insinuation that this device might be sufficiently convincing on its own.
    The day I visited the exhibition, a UBC fine arts instructor was visiting Watch with a class of undergraduates. He doggedly rehearsed the conceptual premises of Rokeby's work out loud, while his students nodded and took notes. They--and I--couldn't disagree with any of the claims he was making for the work. At the same time, it was obvious that they (and I) were totally estranged from and unmoved by it. An art exhibition is not just an illustration of a thesis; the formal choices an artist makes in constructing a work must somehow amplify it, kindling a corona of unspecifiability around the work's thematic core. Nothing like this was visible in this plodding, earnest work. I felt embarrassed and vaguely resentful in Watch's presence, conscious that the work was lecturing me with all the formal energy Rokeby could bring to bear.
    If viewers really wish to explore the dangers inherent in media representations and technological surveillance of the body, let them look to works like Chris Burden's early performances, or The Larry Sanders Show, or The Simpsons, works that turn media against itself with snap and panache.
    Another Rokeby installation, The Giver of Names, was far more successful. Discussing this work, Rokeby has written, "The Giver of Names involves the replication of parts of the human mental system in computer code. I do not approach this task with assumptions that it is possible or impossible; I am in it for the process, and for the resulting artwork. The process itself yields some precious results: it provides me with an extraordinarily tangible sense of the remarkable complexity of the many human (and even animal) systems that we take for granted."
    In its Presentation House incarnation, The Giver of Names consisted of a low plinth surrounded by a variety of large, simply shaped objects. Stuffed toys and moulded plastic utensils predominated, giving the spot-lit room the appearance of a Pee Wee's Playhouse set. Visitors were invited to pick up these objects one at a time and to place them on the plinth, where they would be identified and described by a computer program whose output scrolled continuously up a monitor located adjacent to the installation's entrance. The conceptual slippage resulting from the computer program's misidentification of the works on display was wonderful to behold, bearing more than passing resemblance to the products of a Kootenay School of Writing poetry workshop.
    Whereas Watch's strict conceptual determinism rendered it a deeply problematic work of art, The Giver of Names' conceptual schema was far more open, admitting accidents and chance, and allowing viewers to interact with and alter its parameters. Perhaps this is why I lingered longer in this subtle, moving installation, absently stroking the ears of a floppy stuffed dog.    Christopher Brayshaw is an independent critic and curator with a special interest in conceptual art and aesthetic theory. He lives and works in Vancouver, British Columbia.
    David Rokeby's installations Watch and The Giver of Names were on display at North Vancouver's Presentation House Gallery from January 6 to February 18, 2001. David Rokeby, Watch. 1996, video still. Photographs courresy Presentation House.



Chicago Style Citation
Brayshaw, Christopher. 2001. "Techno hectoring." Border Crossings 20, no. 2: 135-136. Art Full Text (H.W. Wilson), EBSCOhost (accessed March 07, 2017).