Samarost

Steven Vitiello

Drum Beats

To begin, I thoroughly enjoyed Melinda Barlow’s presentation on Mary Lucier. Barlow’s presentation was thorough, entertaining, and informative. The work presented was interesting, but made more accessible through Barlow’s speaking comfort and skill. I currently am sitting in on a class with Barlow and have learned quite a bit about the work of Lucier. However, during this presentation, I had the chance to see and hear about work that I was completely unfamiliar with. I received a lot of information and was still engaged throughout the lecture.

Another high point in the day was getting to see another selection from the long list of works by Luis Valdovino and Dan Bord. The videos were one of many humorous breaks in a long day of video discussions. Within the weeks leading up to the symposium, I had seen a few other works by Luis and Dan. Of the many I have now seen, I feel these were some of their best works. These 3 were more appealing than the 4 in the BMOCA show, possbly due to their shorter length and the difference in setting. During the presentation Luis and Dan made the conscious choice to keep their presentation to a minimum and maximize the time available to see the work. I applaud their choice.

The presentation I was most surprised by was that of Barbara London, MoMa Associate Curator in the department of film and video. I had no specific expectations for this presentation. Though I was not as engaged by the curator’s lecture, the range of work she presented was varied and relevant to the symposium. Showing the work of the Residents as well as David Bowie, took a fresh look at the medium of video that always seems mired in the history of Paik and a handful of others. I feel that this presentation was an important discussion, opening the dialog about what the medium of video has been historically. The one place I feel that could have been expanded is in reference to contemporary works and new directions in video and digital technologies.

I have long heard of Chip Lord through Luis Valdovino. Lord’s work with Ant Farm has frequently been referenced in discussions about my work as a point of refernce. With the exception of “Media Burn” and “Cadillac Ranch,” prior to his presentation, I had not had much exposure to the work of Lord or of Ant Farm. I found the work to be varied, interesting, and progressive. Even the current work, to be displayed in SF MoMA, has a contemporary relevance, both technologically and socially. I was lucky to have had an informative critique with Lord the previous day and feel that I got a greater perspective on Lord’s ideas and contributions to the dialog of collaboration and contemporary art.

Liliana Porter, artist from New York, was also a pleasant presentation. In the show “In and Out of Time,” I wasn’t overly engaged by many of the works. I felt that most did not build on one another and were disparate in theme and form. The only commonality was the use of video. In this case, I feel that each would have been stronger in another context. This is the case of Porter’s work. In the exhibition I has stayed for a few minutes to watch her piece. Unfortunately, I came in on a section of the “orchestra” which was not one of the strongest moments. I generally prefer a gallery setting for video works, but in this case, I feel that the theater setting of the symposium allowed me to see the work in total. There were great moment of humor and minimalism that I found refreshing. Having experimented with similar themes and objects, I found Porter’s work to be a simple, yet playful approach to video and kitsch.

I wasn’t as engaged by the remaining discussions, primarily due to their length. Each of the remaining speakers spoke at length and would have benefited from Valdovino and Bord’s method of speaking less and allowing the audience to experience the work more fully. While I don’t mean to minimize the other speaker’s contributions, the amount of information that can be absorbed and enjoyed in this setting, is possibly best described by the cliché “less is more.”

I have known about DJ Spooky for quite some time. I had heard of his work and been exposed to a few tracks at some point in the mid to late 90s. It wasn’t until I purchased a copy of NEST magazine around 2002—complete with soundtrack CD provided by DJ Spooky—that I really had a chance to absorb his music. Reading Rhythm Science has given me a different insight into his background and methodologies.

Initially, I was surprised to find that Paul D. Miller (a.k.a. DJ Spooky), had written for art magazines and had studied philosophy and literature. Not having known much about him, it was easy to assume that this experimental musician had only a familiarity with music. In much the way he described the success of his music as not relying on familiarity with his conceptualization of the work, I was able to enjoy without knowing the depth behind it.

Now that I understand his source material, I find much more depth in the soundscapes than I had before. From his referencing French philosophy, American literature, pop culture, and conceptual art, I now see his work is designed as a response to specific theories and scenarios. This is a far more intellectual approach than I had previously assumed from the multi-layered soundscapes.

Much of the content of the book deals with reworking ideas of culture and new ways of responding to it. Incorporating ideas of the Situationists, Surrealism, diaspora, open source culture, and literary criticism, Miller elaborates on the cultural landscape from which remix culture is born and how it has become an integral part of contemporary dialogue.

Quoting Emerson on ideas of originality, Miller makes a case for a more open approach to appropriation as an artform, requiring conceptual and technical skill. Much of the text reads as a freeform riff on remix culture as a whole. Along these lines, Miller brings Jazz, Punk, Hardcore, Hip-Hop, and other musical genres into the discussion as a sort of cultural call and response improvisation. Music tends to be an easy measurement of cultural trends, but Miller directs the dialog to include levels of critical theory not normally associated with popular and underground modes of music. The result is a surprisingly well-crafted exploration of remix and DJ culture as art.

Within the reading, I had no epiphany moments. There wasn’t anything I felt that I suddenly understood in a new way. My major criticism lies in the design more than anything. It seems more like an unnecessary way of repeating text. I appreciate the economy of color in the printing, but the graphics and pull-out quotes do nothing for the bulk of the text. I would recommend varying the graphic page breaks to allow the images to expand the concepts rather than seeming like space-filler. Otherwise, The book reads as another creative riff on how and why appropriation is valid. Remix, Cut-ups, Phychogeography, collage, and the cento are all historical examples of how appropriation can be useful and effective. While Miller uses some of these as examples are argument, the bulk of the text seems a creative riff around the topic as a whole. Rather than arguing specific points, it is as though he is creating a text-scape of ideas surrounding a central theme. Possibly this isn’t necessary as an argument since there are many historical examples of this phenomenon and justification may be redundant—at least to those who are familiar with these issues.

Reading this book, I drew the most benefit from hearing Miller’s back story and seeing his impressive knowledge of theory and criticism. At times, I thought his quotations were worth noting, if for no other reason than to expand my future reading lists. In my opinion, Miller’s major contribution with Rhythm Science is the CD that comes with the book. There are very few writers who include soundtracks with their text. Of those, Miller, on numerous occasions, seems to have found a way to allow you to read, as you are enveloped by his manufactured sonic landscape. The sound colors the text in such a way that it surrounds you without making it’s presence oppressive or obvious. The pacing is such that he has complete control over the flow of both text and sound alike. In my mind, Rhythm Science is not a groundbreaking book. However, I enjoyed discovering a new depth and purpose within Miller’s work as a whole. At the very least, I now have a new ambient, experimental CD to add to my collection.¬

Debourd speaks of a new method of repurposing and re-contextualizing a range of media. The repurposing of image, film, text, and audio serve to feed on previous associations with the material, but allowing for an entirely new dialogue. This repurposing is suggested, not as a justification of plagiarism, but as a necessary development in the evolution of contemporary communication.

Five decades later, with an entirely different technological landscape, the idea of détournement is again highlighted as an important debate. What is the value of “pure” expression? Is originality still possible? With so many media types readily available, and easy to copy, why not incorporate these as a basis for one’s work? These questions are a familiar to virtually all contemporary musicians, artists, and creative professionals.

As these questions have become increasingly important, legislation has been proposed to expand intellectual property. The power of “owning” and original idea is highlighted as presumably they are feared to be finite in number. In reaction to this scarcity of ideas, open source, creative commons culture has developed as a counter balance to top-heavy, industry driven control over media. Rather than protecting the individual, or free speech, the system has responded to protect business and commerce.

Despite these political and social trends around originality or branding, re-contextualization has infiltrated the mainstream media. Debourd speaks of increasing the effectiveness of a message, when incorporating material that already has mental and emotional associations. This combining of meanings has a staple in advertising, artwork, entertainment, and literature. This repurposing has now become a form unto itself.

Remixing has developed into a cultural phenomenon and been integrated into public and private school education. The wide use of these tools and concepts has forced the education and commerce systems to assimilate this new culture rather than battle it outright. The increasing ease and availability of communication technologies, as well as computer programs designed to manipulate and convert virtually all forms of media, has become so widely accepted by the general public that private and governmental institutions alike, are forced to adapt to this new social and political landscape. In a sense, the political power has shifted and the microphone has changed hands. The tools to access, manipulate and distribute information is in the hands of the public. This has significantly shifted the way artists visualize, politics are practiced, and the balance of power is, arguably, in check.

I find the strongest aspect of Weaver’s work to be his experimentation with genetics, as a form of biological narrative. The comparisons of geography, genetics, and story telling suggest a different understanding of individual history and trajectory. Each creature on earth is imprinted with the residue of a grand, collective experience. The artist’s use of phrases like “ecological memory,” suggest an inherent wisdom within all living creatures. In another sense, it is as though all living things are recording data, which can eventually be deciphered as code. It is this principle of data that provides the armature for much of Weaver’s work.

Using DNA code as source material, Weaver has transformed the biological information into a soundtrack for each work. At times, the DNA also provided an internal logic for the timing of edits and blending of video clips. Playing with the concept of DNA control of what you see, or sense, one of Weaver’s pieces includes a dissected, compound eye of a Monarch butterfly. The image of the eye, with it’s defined component colors and structure, suggests a form of biological design echoing the pixels he projects.

In both, his lecture and his writings Weaver speaks of raising awareness about ecology, through understanding the evolution and demise of extinct species. Through genetic research and experimentation, Weaver suggests the possibility of reanimating some of these forgotten creatures into a new physical or psychic existence. Specimens of endangered, or extinct, woodpeckers, parakeets, and pigeons decorate his work as samples from once great North American populations. These act as a reminder that what was once all around us is now so easily forgotten.

Inspired by oral traditions and combating humanity’s ecological forgetfulness, Weaver has adapted his video and sound work into a live performance model. Using live VJ software, Weaver is able to improvise a piece with predetermined components. This creates a space for interpretation and spontaneity, similar to the improvisation of music or theater. The result is a work that continues to evolve from show to show. This live aspect is completely ephemeral, similar to the experience of a poem or story read aloud. I enjoy Weaver’s logic in the development toward a live performance, though I find this area in his work to be the most difficult for me. The similarities of DNA to programming make sense. However, the necessity of video, projection, music, and VJ software as an essential element seem a bit vague. Allowing DNA to guide a computer program is interesting, but I am unclear as to how video projection is the best medium. Could this not be equally engaging, or effective as text, sound, or a painting. What Weaver is dealing with is information. While any data has an obvious comparison to computer technology, All things contain information, which would include painting sculpture and almost everything else. If this is the case, why is the computer so necessary a platform … specifically in the form of projection?

Despite my lack of clarity on the point of Weaver’s media choices, I do find his concepts to be interesting. Questions of how a story is constructed or functions are far more complex when investigated in relation to scale … both in size and time. I’m looking forward to our class discussion with Tim Weaver this Thursday.

This idea of “freedom” in online communities is part of a new philosophy, which builds on the concept that information should be available to all. In this model, any advances made with open source media would benefit all within the community. The principals upon which open source communities are based echo Marxist ideas of power in a society as rightly held by the producers of that society. The benefit of such a concept is that money is no longer the sole factor determining access to information or the tools with which one may process information. The ultimate goal is to return the power of production and information to individuals.

The popularity of open source and creative commons has grown in recent years as internet communities have grown. Individuals are now able to connect with increasing ease, sharing knowledge, tools, and media, in spite of protests by those in positions of corporate authority. The benefits of both ideas are readily apparent. Source material and tools are available to anyone, and everyone benefits from direct adaptations to and feedback about how each element functions. In contrast, the idea of artistic control is weakened if there are no controls over creative licensing.

In many recent readings and discussions, I have noticed multiple references to the Disney Corporation as the model for legal abuse and manipulation of intellectual property laws. In many of the arguments, Disney is painted as responsible, through lobbying, for the exponential extension of legal control of images, despite having made millions on reworking stories from the public domain. In my opinion, the effects of Disney’s greed seems to have gone beyond the reasonable or necessary life of artistic control.

From the lectures and readings so far, I have come to believe that the original life of a copyright—14 years—would be a more reasonable time to allow an artist to do his/her best with the work before allowing the public to benefit or improve upon the knowledge. As for control when working or displaying work on the internet, I would argue that there should be a system to allow artists and companies to choose from a more modest series of controls. A more widely  accepted creative commons copyright option would allow the artist the choice of limited controls over his  work. The current model seems to benefit large corporations, lawyers, and politicians more than most of the population. In this case, money seems to be what  determines access.

I’ve long admired many artists  who sample and remix a variety of media. From Dada and Surrealism, to poets, film makers, and graphic designers, sample and remix culture has become an important part of contemporary cultural expression. Most recently, I found the lecture from Luke Dubois to be most interesting. I had long known Luke’s piece “Billboard,” which averages the sounds of number 1 Billboard songs, but I had forgotten the artist’s name. I had referenced that piece in a number of conversations but had no knowledge of his other work. Now that I am taking a class on Max/MSP/Jitter, I found his work and his programming for Jitter that much more fascinating.

In my own practice, I have recently been working with clip art and plug-ins from many creative commons sites. My background as a graphic designer has shown me the benefits of knowing when to make elements yourself and when to sample or work with external resources.  For a graduate student, finances are always a concern, but having access to free materials greatly extends the possibilities in my current projects. Through this experience, I find both open source and creative commons essential developments in the evolution of internet culture. Maybe, with further assimilation,  the politicians will eventually  see the benefits, as well.

You can find examples both, here and here.