Hermenautic Circle blog

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[Image: Posters for Grand Illusion, currently out of print from the Criterion Collection].

For the first film in Breaking Out and Breaking In a distributed film fest—where you watch the films at home and return here to discuss them online—co-sponsored by BLDGBLOG, Filmmaker Magazine, and Studio-X NYC, we watched Jean Renoir's Grand Illusion (1937), recently described as one of the 100 best films of world cinema (Seven Samurai, if you're curious, was #1).

I will limit myself to discussing Grand Illusion solely from the perspective of this film fest of prison breaks and bank heists (which will be true for all the films discussed in this series). In other words, I'll focus specifically on the topology of escape—on holes, tunnels, walls, and borders. And I should note: there are spoilers ahead.

[Images: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

The first attempted escape of the film is through the earth: tunneling from beneath the barracks of a German prison camp with the intention of popping up beyond the outer buildings, in a garden.

Removing the floorboards and hacking through exceptionally soft soil, the prisoners rig an alarm system and fashion a tentacular speaking-tube to make sure they all know if the person on digging duty has passed out in the carbon dioxide-rich microclimate being created by their tunneling activity. In fact, the speaking-tube—like an old-fashioned game of telephone—initially appears to be a breathing apparatus of some sort, as if they are, in fact, snorkeling through the earth.

[Image: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the digger—an irritatingly effusive French cabaret singer—loses consciousness, his candle goes out, and he must be hauled backward out of the mud by rope.

[Image: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

There are at least two particularly interesting things about this tunnel.

1) The diggers engage in an illicit earth-moving operation by filling their clothes with the resulting dirt, and then dumping the dirt into the garden. They're thus generating their own little artificial topography out in the prison yard as they scoop out the earth beneath their barracks house. The negative space of the tunnel becomes this new terrain of dirt piles and rows, which are thus symptoms of this literally underground activity.

[Image: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

2) More interestingly, the tunnel is soon abandoned: all of the prisoners are moved to new camps, the barracks are emptied, the tunnel still covered by floorboards, and a last-ditch attempt to let the incoming prisoners know that there is a half-completed escape tunnel beneath their bedroom fails. A train pulls away, splitting up the prisoners and bringing them to new camps; all the while, a remnant escape route, unfinished and unknown, lies waiting to be rediscovered.

Immediately before their departure, however, there is a brief exchange between two of the film's protagonists. Looking out at the clockwork machinations of the German guards, who march in synchrony across the prison courtyard, the imprisoned Captain de Boeldieu quips: "For me it's simple. A golf course is for golf. A tennis court for tennis. A prison camp is for escaping."

[Images: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

While this is by no means a remarkable piece of dialogue in and of itself, it suggests that, internal to and implied by the diagram of the camp, there is a goal or proper use, but one that runs against the grain of the space's stated intentions. The camp is a landscape that necessitates its own peculiar misuse; escape is just the sport that actualizes this. Put another way, the design of the camp rigorously implies its own escape routes.

Further to this point, however, and as evidenced by the casual manner with which our sporting gentlemen pack up their rackets and coats and abandon their incomplete tunnel, their behavior is motivated more by following unspoken rules (of war, of the camp, of sporting etiquette) than, in a sense, by trying to win.

In any case, from this point in the film it's onward, out and further, through a series of other camps—shown solely in montage—before the displaced captives arrive at an imposing mountaintop fortress—filmed at the Châteaux du Haut-Koenigsbourg— run by the wounded Von Rauffenstein (who, to my mind, looks remarkably like Darth Vader without a helmet, as seen in Return of the Jedi).

Von Rauffenstein takes his new forced guests on a fortifications tour, walking around the castle's walls. "Nice castle," one of them remarks, as another methodically recites the centuries of original construction. "12th century," he mutters. "13th century."

[Image: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

But all along they are looking for blindspots, low points, and ways over the wall.

[Image: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

The eventual—and final—method of escape is by way of diversion, using small flutes and makeshift drums to distract the castle guards as two prisoners make an improbable break for it down a handmade rope out of a tower. And, after a brief stop by a house in the Alps where a spot of romance pops up, they find their ultimate freedom in a moment that is absurd for all it reveals about the notion of political jurisdiction.

Running in plain view of German soldiers, who have finally caught up to them, our remaining two heroes have nothing to worry about: they have crossed an invisible line in the snow, making a mockery of all their tunnels and secret ropes, as they walk up a hill in neutral Switzerland.

[Images: From Grand Illusion, courtesy of the Criterion Collection].

Clearly, outside the specific context of Breaking Out and Breaking In, there is much more to discuss, including the film's actual central theme, which is not escape but class divisions.

Hopefully, though, this will serve as a quick intro to the film's many specifically spatial propositions. If you had a chance to watch Grand Illusion last week, by all means let us all know what you think—and stay tuned in the next day or two for a post about Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped.

(Note: Friday, February 3, brings The Great Escape).

Learn to love cameras.

London 2012 Mascots - ‘Adventures on a Rainbow’ - Wenlock and Mandeville! - YouTube <- EMBEDDING DISABLED BY REQUEST.

Isn't it time you visited the "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks? It's been a while, hasn't it?

Make your own mascot - London 2012 Mascots

CRYSTAL CG, animators of Wenlock and Mandeville.

dream lover beyond dream window in dream house?

by L. Ronstadt Music-journalism giant Pitchfork Media has been home to online music criticism and commentary for almost two decades, and has been essentially running the show for the most recent one. A combination of unrivaled power and unbridled influence … Continue reading →

blech:

Dolores Park, by Caryn Kesler.

Marilyn | Marilyn | Marilyn

kiameku:

Nicholas Knight
Taking Pictures (Marilyn)
2007
archival pigment print mounted on aluminum
20 x 30 in.

“If you like to drive and would like to get to know your local streets and hoods, Skyhook is hiring worldwide and will pay you to literally drive each and every single street in your city or town. As a Skyhook driver, you will be using a scanning device to gather wireless information in specific territories assigned to you by Skyhook. These contract positions typically last 2-4 weeks. There are no stops required, just driving and letting the device scan. All drivers must have a valid license, insurance, and a car in good working order. So get your maps, your shades, some snacks, and your tunes ready for a driving experience you are not likely to forget.”

- Skyhook: Who We Are > Careers

THE COLOR OF MONEY

planetaryfolklore:

rmgdesign: great #cover newmanology: Fortune, January 1960 / Art director: Leo Lionni

“Members of Poland’s Parliament hold up Guy Fawkes masks, symbolizing protests by Anonymous, to protest ACTA.”

Forbes

Monolake (Robert Henke) enters the Loudness Wars and talks about mastering [45 secs].

geometric

“Exmovere Holdings Inc. is developing a Segway-based upright mobility device that surrounds the user’s thighs, hips and legs in a kind of cocoon, called the Chariot. The user’s hands, arms and chest remain free to do whatever is desired. This would position the vehicle as a direct competitor to existing sit-down scooters marketed to obese, elderly and limited mobility persons.”

Exmovere Holdings, Inc., via @moongolfer.

“It would appear that someone on the production line was having a bit of fun.”

iPhone Factory Worker Photos Found on New iPhone - Mac Rumors

(via Twitter / @LondonFire: We’re likely to be at the …)

The Stars Below, 2011. Mixed media installation

One thing I like about your work
is the fact that you seem to operate like a hacker, taking things apart,
finding new ways to misuse technology. But throughout your approach appears to
be deliberately poetic, wherein you bring out these singular moments of beauty.
For example, when you first started working on your scanner films during a
residency at the MacDowell Colony, you mentioned that you began by simply
placing a scanner outside of your cabin at night. The footage became a kind of
accidental biological study, as the scanner intrigued light-seeking moths and
other bugs, resulting in a time-lapsed nighttime sample of the various critters
in the forest. I’m wondering if you can comment on how you “hack” technology in
your work, and what you hope to achieve in that process. Are you guided by a
kind of poetic hacking? How so?

In most of my works that
involve a technological device (printer, scanner, photocopier, etc.) the
technology itself is actually fairly un-altered. I tend to adjust the context
in which the object is placed, or introduce variables or conditions that exist
outside what I might call the area of expertise of the device. To use your
example of the scanner: whether I’m scanning documents or moths in the woods,
the scanner is still executing its function in exactly the same way; I’ve
simply adjusted the expected input. I’m interested in looking at a given system
and seeing what else it has the potential to speak about aside from its narrow
band of acceptable usage, and how its native landscape (office, classroom,
computer lab) might be related to other sorts of spaces, systems, or sets of
ideas.

Since you
brought up the topic of systems, I’m wondering if you could discuss that
further. How do you approach the notion of “system” in your work? How do you
reveal the presence of these systems, is it simply an act of mimesis or a
disturbance or something else?

At different moments, I
might describe my work in terms of systems, structures, frameworks, rules,
and/or devices. I think there are a few things at play for me on that page of
the thesaurus. The first is that I am always looking for various sorts of
engines to move a project forward. Just like a physical device I take up may
immediately describe a set of material and procedural constraints, I’ll often
involve a secondary framework–south polar exploration, the history of astronomy–that
will both move a material system beyond itself and help to select supporting
materials, an installation’s logic, etc. The second is developing a
relationship between the system immediately at work and the secondary
framework through a third, usually less visible system. To use my recent piece,
The Stars Below, as an example: I first developed the material process.
A series of solenoid valves release drips of water onto upright sticks of
chalk,  slowly eroding them. The
secondary framework–an installation space suggesting something between an
office and a classroom–arises from the materials involved (what is the domain
of a stick of chalk? Where does this drip of water originate?) and provides a
context in which to situate the erosive activity. Between these two things is a
conception of Deep Time, of which slate and chalk are both products, which complicates
the scales of time at play within institutional spaces. So, the work tries to
establish a series of interrelations between a set of materials, landscapes,
and ideas. In short, a system. Whether or not the audience is able to unravel
all of that immediately is not as important to me as their awareness that there
is a sense of order, an underlying logic at work.

I feel that in your work you
abuse technology not only to see that technology anew in itself, but also so
that we, as viewers interacting with that technology, can see the world through
it in a different way. Towards this end, the viewer’s perception is always a
key component for you, such as in Xerox
Astronomy and the Nebulous Object-Image Archive  (2008), which, using a strange configuration
of a cubicle, a photocopier, and numerous mechanical lamps, produces Xerox
copies that closely resemble telescopic images of outer space. How does
perception factor into your practice, and how does this relate to your approach
to technology?

I am often thinking about
modes of viewership that provide alternatives, foils, stand-ins, or compliments
to looking at objects and images in an exclusively art context. These modes
could be scientific, commercial, historical, info-graphical. There are
different frames that get erected around objects and images in different
contexts, and I’m interested in things that slip between these frames. I got
serious about researching and thinking about astronomy when I started to
transition from making sound-based works to ones in which the visual is more
central. Considering stars and planets requires extreme conceptions of space
and scale (so in that way astronomy is super-sculptural, especially material)
but for thousands of years our knowledge about them came exclusively through
looking (more recently, of course, we have non-visual approaches, radio
telescopes, etc.). So, the history of astronomy seems like a case study in the
impulse to look deeper, further. People initially saw the sky as a planar
surface because that’s the way it more or less looks. Contemporary viewers
project a current-day understanding of cosmic space onto that flatness, and so
we perceive deep space. We are basically imagining something we can’t actually
see whenever we look up. The variable distance between direct sensory
experience and all the non-sensory layers that go on top of that, that shape
our interpretation of objects and events really interests me, especially when
this received knowledge doesn’t cleanly align with our own perceptions.

It seems your fascination with
technology is deeply routed to your parallel interest in scientific inquiry –
an aspect apparent in your recent exhibition “The Stars Below” at the Kitchen
in New York City. The solo exhibition centered around the piece The Stars Below (2011) which replicated
staple artifacts from the science classroom, complete with a dry erase board
and fluorescent lighting. Like Xerox
Astronomy and the Nebulous Object-Image Archive  (2008), you seem to be turning the assumed
certainty of scientific objectivity upside down, through the appropriation of
its tools and ephemera. Can you say more about this thread within your
practice? 

As an undergraduate, I
started off studying biology and geology, then switched to history before
settling on a program of art and technology. Those first three disciplines
continue to inform and inspire my work in the studio. At the first, and most
superficial level, the perceived objectivity of scientific investigation would
seem to provide a foil for the more fluid and subjective frameworks associated
with art making and viewership. Looking a bit more carefully at the history and
philosophy of science reveals that scientists with at least a touch of
historical perspective readily admit the limitations of a given theoretical
framework, and that current science represents a selection of the best
available models. That is, a given theoretical model is only true insofar as it
conforms to current observations and does the best job of predicting future
outcomes. Scientific theories are constantly being revised, and get completely
tossed out when and if something better comes along. So, the history of science
is full of radical transformations in how we look at and think about the world.
I find the possibility of these shifts, and the way science is ideologically
equipped to incorporate (even encourage) them within its seemingly strict
framework incredibly inspiring. I think my interest in this structural
flexibility and these transformations in thinking probably explains why I tend
to make my materials (technological and otherwise) operate as more than one
thing at once, or operate within more than one intellectual framework at a
time.

Some of your works, such as …a History of Light (2011) and Printershake  (2007-2008), concentrate on light and the
fabrication of color – how color comes to be under certain limitations,
technological, scientific, historical, etc. I’m wondering if you can talk more
about the use of color in your practice. 

I have a hard time
choosing colors. Lately, the objects I’ve been making are intended to appear as
some kind of institutional (and therefore impersonal) artifacts, so seeming
color preferences undermine that to me. I try to avoid thinking about
individual colors in favor of color options in a given scenario. So of course,
like many artists, I am drawn to pre-selected color palettes, and often the raw
systems that produce colors in a given scenario. My working process is really
material-centric, so I tend to deal with colors that are, or at least come
close to feeling “native” to a given material. Another way of putting
this is that I typically work with “found” color palettes, which
lately could be the colors in a variety pack of construction paper, or the
available colors of dry erase markers. So maybe yes, each set of materials I
deal with has its own particular rainbow. The work I am starting to think about
now has one foot in interior decorating, and I am starting to think about
something we like to call taste as a kind of foil or anti-system to scientific
methodology, so color choice is an issue I am going to be confronting head on
pretty soon. I’m looking forward to collecting swatches.

Sound is another important
component for you – and it seemed to be a major focus especially while you were
in graduate school at UCSD. During that time, you built a mobile modified piano
called the Myano (2003-2006) that you
would perform around the city of San Diego, as well as the installation One ship encounters a series of notable
exceptions (2006) which was an experiment in sculptural storytelling
wherein you recounted a narrative detailing the passage of ships through polar
waters in an elaborate, sonified acrylic sculpture. How do you approach sound
in your work?

When I first started
working with sound, I was drawn to its immediacy, its physical impact on the
body, and its ability to invisibly fill and transform space. I am not working
with sound so much lately, but I think it has been useful to me as a material
that bridges a kind of structural, analytic framework (i.e., acoustics, western
systems of tonality, etc.) with a visceral non-lingual experience. This aspect
of sound is similar to how I have been thinking about astronomy and the sky
more recently. A musical instrument (like the piano) is a perfect example of a
system that presents itself with a specific set of behaviors, inputs and
outputs that it expects, that others expect about it. I think there is not much
of a leap between engaging (bending) the rules of a piano and the rules of a
printer or photocopier. All of these things come pre-loaded with a prescribed
set of activities and implications, which, for me, prime a terrain for
investigation.

 

---

 

Age:

30

Location:

Long Island City, NY

How long have you been working creatively with
technology? How did you start?

I think I had a penchant for
science and engineering style toys as a kid. Legos, Capsela, chemistry sets. I
remember being in some kind of computer club in the 5^th or 6^th
grade where I spent my lunchtime programming with LOGO. I made my first website
(on AOL!) using HTML when I was in junior high.

Describe your experience with the tools you use. How
did you start using them?

I don’t have a standard set
of tools that I am always using. I like to be able to do everything myself, and
this has lead me to try to acquire new skills as I need them, which typically
involves consulting people who know more than me, tutorials online, and a lot
of trial and error in the studio. In one of my first sound performances, I
wired a bunch of telephones and mini-speakers together in such a way that smoke
came out of the headphone jack of my laptop. No one believed me, but I had the
scorch mark to prove it. This led me to learn something about resistance, which
set me on the path of learning just a little bit about electronics. I took two
computer-programming classes in college, which have enabled me to muddle
through well enough with whatever new languages and programming interfaces have
appeared in the intervening years.  A lot
of the sculptural fabrication-related skills I acquired in grad school under
the guidance of a truly excellent facilities/shop manager, but I am always
using new materials and trying to figure out how to work with them as I develop
new work.

Where did you go to school? What did you study?

I received my Bachelor’s
degree at Brown University in New Media Studies and my MFA in Visual Art from
University of California, San Diego.

What traditional media do you use, if any? Do you
think your work with traditional media relates to your work with technology?

I use a lot of materials in
my work, and they tend to be fairly integrated. Personally, I don’t really
respect any division between those that might be considered traditional and
those that are more clearly technological.

Are you involved in other creative or social
activities (i.e. music, writing, activism, community organizing)?

I’ve curated a few small
exhibitions and have done some writing in relation to them. Thinking and
writing about other artists’ work is sometimes a productive way to deal with
ideas that interest me that aren’t necessarily directly applicable to what I
happen to be making in the studio at a given moment.

What do you do for a living or what occupations have
you held previously? Do you think this work relates to your art practice in a
significant way?

I’ve been teaching
undergraduates for the last five years. When I first moved to New York, I
worked in an office full time for about three months, and since then have
worked on-and-off part time in a similar setting. It’s probably obvious that my
experience in various institutional environments has had a heavy influence on
my work of the last five years.

Who are your key artistic influences?

I am drawn to radical
investigations of form, deep sensitivity to material, and compulsively pitched
humor. I had formative experiences as a student with the work of OULIPO writers
like Raymond Queneau and George Perec and composers like John Cage and Alvin
Lucier. Some films that inspire me include Peter Greenaway’s The Falls and Vertical Features Remake, Jacques Tati’s Playtime, and Charles Atlas’ Hail
the New Puritan. Sculptors I can get behind include Mark Manders, Cosima
Von Bonin, Ester Partegas, and Charles Ray.

Have you collaborated with anyone in the art community
on a project? With whom, and on what?

A few years ago, I
collaborated with Zerek Kempf on an artist book published by Onestar Press. My
partner–Adam Shecter—and I started a project called 2-UP in 2010. As a
collective of artists and writers, 2-UP produces a series of double-sided
posters, each of which is a collaboration between two members of the
collective. The project is completely funded by dues from its members, enabling
us to give away the posters for free at events around the city. The project is
also supported by a group of subscribers who receive the posters by mail. We’re
just starting our second series of posters in January 2012.

Do you actively study art history?

You are much more likely to
find me reading other kinds of history: intellectual history, cultural history,
history of science and technology, or just plain history. I read art history
more selectively, based on recommendation or relation to a particular project I
am thinking about, but it’s not a section of the library or bookstore I find
myself casually browsing.

Do you read art criticism, philosophy, or critical
theory? If so, which authors inspire you?

There are certain authors in
this vein that I keep floating around (Roland Barthes, Susan Sontag, Manuel
DeLanda) and return to every once in a while, but criticism/theory/philosophy
is not necessarily a place to which I am naturally drawn. In addition to the
areas I mentioned above, I read a fair amount of fiction. I find novels
inspiring in a lot of ways, both in terms of formal innovation (I often think
of novels as sculptures), and also as a way to balance my analytic tendencies
with a hefty dose of the imaginary. The contemporary authors that inspire me
include Steve Erickson, John Crowley, and Ursula K. Leguin. 

Are there any issues around the production of, or the
display/exhibition of new media art that you are concerned about?

I think this is mostly a
problem for curators, but I’ll say that of works that involve technology, I am
most interested in those that are aware of and actively make meaning out of
their technological infrastructure.  

Like a walking mandala in the trappings of a classic Romantic casualty, JOHN LYDON (born 1956) tears down everything that ever made him successful and his followers happy, so there’s no place for anything but what’s utterly new. Survival is not what we want from pop novelties and uncomfortable voices, so that’s exactly what Lydon has worked at for more than 30 years. The Sex Pistols were a scandal, but when that became what was expected, the ex-Johnny Rotten went on confounding the “public image” of himself, giving that name to his next band — which he declared was not a band but a corporation. He lurched from the Pistols’ cataclysmic tune-core to PiL’s somber art-grumble, to a run as renegade pundit and alternative intellectual, and back to the Pistols when it was time for the ideal of a perfect young death to be pissed on by happier, wiser, angry old men. The sacrifice Lydon makes for his art is not his life or self (he’s the healthiest of egos, by which I mean an honest one), but his illusions and yours. He clears away the worship that can cloud minds on either side of the stage; his life may be a work of art but none of it is an act.

***

On his or her birthday, HiLobrow irregularly pays tribute to one of our high-, low-, no-, or hilobrow heroes. Also born this date: Carol Channing and Grant Morrison.

READ MORE about members of the Original Generation X (1954-63).

“Neil Harbisson introduces himself as the first cyborg ever legally recognized by any Government (2004). He was born colour-blind; so he can only see in black and white (Achromatopsia disorder).

An electronic device implanted in his neck allows him to translate colours into sounds. The camera that hangs from his forehead 24/7 was accepted as part of his British passport photo. By that very fact, the camera became congenital and not prosthetic to his body anymore. Thanks to it, light frequencies are captured and translated into sound frequencies by the chip, which in turn sends them to his brain. He literally listens to colours with his electronic eye.

A standard eye perceives light, tone and saturation. Harbisson’s organic eyes perceive light, but tone is converted into sound, and saturation into volume through his third eye.”

deconcrete/////, via Warren Ellis

Flying People in New York City (by ChronicleNYC)

The conventions of the form—the dimly lit stacks, the librarian’s mask of thick glasses and hair tied into a bun, et cetera—are, of course, well known. Unlike video porn, where these conventions are typically used as a wholesale substitute for narrative, porn books still feel the compulsion to tell a story, to make the glasses and bun mean something. I was curious just what story these new books were telling. What does our most current version of the librarian fantasy say about us? To answer this question, I visited the library. (via Paris Review – Checking Out, Avi Steinberg) —thanks to RKB for the tip

must read this book, Gentlemen of Bacongo, now

We’re in the middle of the MIThenge: for a few afternoons in late January and in November, the sun shines straight down the 825’ Infinite Corridor. Learn more here.

(thanks to Georgy for the reminder!)

Nick Hasty moderates “Emerging Trends in Internet Art” at SXSW 2011

SXSW Interactive is a little over a month away, and with hundreds of talks and panels, it is easy to miss some of the great ones. This year, Rhizome Director of Technology Nick Hasty is leading the panel “Preserving the Creative Culture of the Web” and Senior Editor Joanne McNeil will be on the panel “The New Aesthetic: Seeing Like Digital Devices.” Here are a dozen other art and technology oriented panels that might be of interest to the Rhizome community. Please add anything we missed in the comments!

 

---

 

FRIDAY: 

Queer Viral Practices in New Media Art and Theory
Elle Mehrmand, Micha Cardenas, Pinar Yoldas, Zach Blas
AUSTIN CONVENTION CENTER ROOM 10AB
3:30 -4:40PM

MIT Media Lab: Making Connections
Andy Bardagjy, Catherine Havasi, Joichi Ito, Yadid Ayzenberg, Yves-Alexandre de Montjoye
HILTON AUSTIN DOWNTOWN SALON FG
5:00PM – 6:00PM

SATURDAY:

Journalists Discuss the Future of Games
Dale North, Jamin Brophy-Warren, Morgan Webb, N’Gai Croal, Ross Miller
PALMER ROOM 1-2
11:00AM -12:00PM

Shoebox Full of Photos: Beyond Digital Storage
Jesse Chan-Norris
OMNI DOWNTOWN LONE STAR
12:30PM – 1:30PM

The Curators and the Curated
Alexis Madrigal, Maria Popova, Max Linsky, Mia Quagliarello, Noah Brier
SHERATON AUSTIN CAPITOL ABCD
3:30PM – 4:30PM

The Public Is Present: Exhibition Subsites at MoMA
Chiara Bernasconi, Dan Phiffer, Lotte Meijer, Shannon Darrough
AT&T CONFERENCE HOTEL CLASSROOM 203
5:00PM – 6:00PM

SUNDAY:

The Mind & Consciousness As an Interface
Julian Bleecker, Nicolas Nova
HILTON AUSTIN DOWNTOWN SALON FG
9:30AM -10:30

Designing Tomorrow’s Digital/Physical Interfaces
David Merrill, Fabian Hemmert, Leah Buechley
HILTON AUSTIN DOWNTOWN SALON FG
11:00AM -12:00PM

Open Art, Open Audiences: The Edinburgh Festivals
Andrew Coulton, Kath M Mainland
AT&T CONFERENCE HOTEL SALON E
12:30PM – 1:30PM

Preserving the Creative Culture of the Web
Jason Scott, Kari Kraus, Nick Hasty
AUSTIN CONVENTION CENTER ROOM 9ABC
3:30PM – 4:30PM

The Love You Make
Catarina Fake
AUSTIN CONVENTION CENTER EXHIBIT HALL 5
3:30PM – 4:30PM

The Power of Contemplative Play
Ben Cerveny, Justin Hall, Robin Hunicke
PALMER ROOM 1-2
3:30PM – 4:30PM

On the Internet, Everyone Knows You’re a Dog
Christopher Poole, Heather Champ, Michael Sippey, Rick Webb, Ted Rheingold
SHERATON AUSTIN CAPITOL ABCD
5:00PM – 6:00PM

MONDAY:

The New Aesthetic: Seeing Like Digital Devices
Aaron Cope, Ben Terrett, James Bridle, Joanne McNeil, Kevin Slavin
DRISKILL HOTEL DRISKILL BALLROOM
9:30AM -10:30AM

Artists in Labs: Participatory Design at Eyebeam
Fran Ilich, Jon Cohrs, Kaho Abe, Nova Jiang 
SHERATON AUSTIN CAPITOL EFGH
11:00AM -12:00PM

Expanding Our Intelligence Without Limit
Lev Grossman, Ray Kurzweil
AUSTIN CONVENTION CENTER EXHIBIT HALL 5
2:00PM – 3:00PM

What WebGL Will Mean for the Web
Aaron Koblin, Gregg Tavares, Henrik Bennetsen, Ken Russell, Shanna Tellerman
AUSTIN CONVENTION CENTER BALLROOM A
5:00PM – 6:00PM

brandnewpaintjob:

Man Ray RQ-1 Predator Drone, 2011

New work from 9eyes’ Jon Rafman.

microspores:

Electric Angels are recharging their halos at the petrol station, plugging themselves in. Their images burn up pixels on the security monitors. 

image source:Jo Ley

How long does the average share holding last? Just 22 seconds - Telegraph

the moon is made of gold leaf and dots

planetaryfolklore:

the-rx: Geomantie - Cod. Pal. germ. 833 - 16th cent. k by peacay on Flickr.

defacevalue:

“Hands Off”. John Lennon and Yoko Ono Two Virgins LP as found. Submitted by Jive Time Records.

stickemupmovie:

the secret…. #streetart

(from Magnus, Robot Fighter #1, by Russ Manning, 1963)

just go read metro international trade services – mammoth // building nothing out of something already

#imissthe90sbecause trending on Twitter.

iPad Pixelator final version (by Allerian1)

Thomas Dolby’s “Airwaves” single came out January 30, 1982. Here’s the original video.

306090, under the guest editorship of David Hays, is seeking "possible futures for architecture through speculations about new disciplinary knowledge." Hays asks, "What specific methods, materials, or understandings—tools, ratios, formulas, properties, principles, guidelines, definitions, rules, practices, techniques, reference points, histories, and more—not presently considered essential to architecture could, or should, define its future?"

These are architectural nonessentials: unexpected sources of spatial counter-expertise that are "currently undervalued, generally misunderstood, or not yet recognized" (like, for instance, the peculiar architectural insights found in bank heists, the tactics of urban escape and evasion, or the tools of forced entry banned by California Penal Code 466-469).

Submissions are due March 30, 2012, and more info is available on the 306090 site.

(Via Alex Trevi).

The Nightingales’ “Use Your Loaf” single came out January 30, 1982.

Adorable and beautiful cardboard models of vintage synths. See the full photoset.

(via Sumit)

Twitter news: US bars friends over Twitter joke | The Sun |News

Jim Punk is prolific and anonymous. 

His website is encased largely in a cryptic
vernacular predominately of his own design: A laptop is rendered in ‘Oldskool’
ASCII style illustration graphics with the ‘keyboard’ displaying letters and
symbols (such as “&” or “n”) arranged in no particular order—as if Punk had
button smashed his keyboard and left the results to exist as is.  There
are no direct title links, or any kind of straightforward archive list of
projects, instead it’s these arranged letters and symbols that when
painstakingly, individually clicked on, lead the viewer down into a further
maze of Punk’s own glitchy, early net art based work. 

&é‘(-è_çà)#+           

azertyuiop^$¨£           

qsdfghjklmù%*µ!§          

<>wxcvbn,?;.:/~“{@ 

It’s this jumbled arrangement of symbols and
navigation confusion that has come to define Punk’s work over the
years.  Responding to blog comments, tweets and even emails with this
seemingly incomprehensible employment of language, Punk avoids a certain
communicative regularity; rejecting the comprehensibility and clarity that
often lends itself to distinct individual recognition.  Instead, Punk’s
non-linear, schizophrenic performance draws attention to the form language and
communication take, all the while disrupting standardized information flow and
producing an irregularity in the way we expect to approach and access content.

Punk’s latest user generated project, exq=.s.te
=n.c&de/s, is a glitched out Twitter feed that anyone can
post to. Utilizing a customized keyboard, comprised solely of unicode symbols, users can easily create
and tweet glitchy status updates.  With currently more than 600 tweets,
Punk’s project works within the hyper consumptive pace of Twitter and utilizes
it as an alternative platform for formalized making.  While Twitter
predominately exists as a website used to communicate in short, concise bursts
of text, with users usually promoting an event or revealing the banal
adventures crucial to their own existences, Punk’s Twitter demonstrates the
formal exploits of such a system; its purpose, re-purpose and what it is
capable of doing.

In a time when the capture and dispersal of
information seems crucial to maintaining productivity, Jim Punk decides that
playfulness and experimentation are still worth pursuing.

Follow and contribute here.  

 

Screens embedded in greeting cards, via @iotwatch.

Videogrußkarten – Verschenken Sie persönliche Videogrüße auf einer Grußkarte)

‘The Renew bins are equipped with Wi-Fi, so the next phase is to offer greater connectivity via the units.’

London broadcasts news to City workers via recycling bins | Mail Online, ibid

By Joshua Glenn and Elizabeth Foy Larsen. First published at Slate, December 2011.

Elizabeth Larsen lives in Minneapolis and has two sons, ages 12 and 9, and a 7-year-old daughter. She and HiLobrow’s Joshua Glenn, who has two sons, ages 13 and 11, are collaborating on Unbored: The Essential Field Guide to Serious Fun. It is forthcoming from Bloomsbury this fall.

When we were adolescents, our moms weren’t too crazy about rap and hip-hop, which back then meant the Sugarhill Gang, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Kurtis Blow, and, er, Blondie’s “Rapture.” But because they were busy and permissive-ish single moms, they never actually prevented us from listening to it. (Elizabeth’s mom, who had four daughters between the ages of 10 and 16 at the time, focused all her censorship efforts on one pop album: Prince’s Dirty Mind.) All the same, they made a point of letting us know that they didn’t think much of music that glorified casual sex, drugs, or violence; music that denigrated women; or music featuring swear words.

Times have changed. Today, most of us are aware that rap and hip-hop are not unique among musical genres in sometimes celebrating sex, drugs, and violence, or denigrating women; and, conversely, that even the most brutal rap song might plausibly be interpreted as a confrontational act of artistic ventriloquism. So when our own kids started downloading rap songs, it was humbling to realize that we were squeamish about it for some very familiar reasons.

Our households enjoy hip-hop. Elizabeth’s husband, a former middle-school music teacher, raised eyebrows a few years ago by hitting “reply all” in a parent and friend’s group email discussion on his heated defense of Akon’s lyrics. Josh wouldn’t go quite so far — he’s tried to steer his kids away from Kanye and Jay-Z in the direction of old-skool hip-hop and alternative and indie stuff. And when he’s driving carpool, even that relatively innocent stuff is verboten.

Why? Because in “Rapper’s Delight,” for example, which Josh used to play over the intercom for his middle school back in ’79, we hear Big Bank Hank speculating about whether Superman (a “fairy”) can satisfy Lois Lane with his little worm, then offering to bust Lois out with his super sperm. In L.L. Cool J’s “Milky Cereal,” a gay man is described as a Fruit Loop. Blackalicious’ “Alphabet Aerobics” and “Chemical Calisthenics” are perfect for kids — except for the N-word. And does Will Smith let his own kids listen to “Parents Just Don’t Understand,” in which a teen picks up a 12-year-old runaway who first tries to seduce him, then accuses him of rape?

We’ve engaged our kids in discussions about the messages in the medium. Afterward, they’ve gone ahead and listened to whatever they wanted — on their headphones, like we did at their age. We’re OK with that. But plenty of parents have banned hip-hop from their homes, which is a shame. So Josh went on a weeks-long quest in search of a playlist’s worth of clean hip-hop. Not radio-censored versions of “dirty” songs, nor hip-hop songs written for children (brrrr), but instead hip-hop tunes that are classics of the genre, yet clean enough for — gulp — Tipper Gore.

Here’s one such playlist, in no particular order, complete with talking points. If it’s heavily weighted to the 1980-90s, it’s because the idea is sharing music you love with your kids.

“Tennessee” (1992), by Arrested Development. At a time when gangsta rap was ascendant, Arrested Development, a group founded by MC Speech and DJ Headliner, wrote songs about peace, love, and spirituality. In this one, Speech reminisces about visiting the American South, and raps: “Now I see the importance of history/ Why people be in the mess that they be.”

“First in Flight” (2002), by Blackalicious. Known for their tongue-twisting lyrics, Blackalicious is a duo that includes MC Gift of Gab. Here, Gift of Gab sounds like Obi-Wan Kenobi when he raps, “No need to force the progression, just ride the wind/ You’ll know the answer to the Where and Why and When.” Parents might want to point out the guest vocals by Gil Scott-Heron, whose spoken-word performances in the 1970s were a key formative influence on hip-hop.

“Tread Water” (1989), by De La Soul. A crocodile, a squirrel, and others encourage De La Soul — high school chums Kelvin Mercer (nicknamed Posdnuos), David Jude Jolicoeur (Trugoy), and Vincent Mason (Mase) — to maintain a positive attitude. Mr. Fish says: “As for me, I’m in tip-top shape today,/ ’Cause my water’s clean and no-one’s menu says ‘Fresh Fish Filet.’ ”

“Television, the Drug of the Nation” (1992), by the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. Your kids don’t agree that TV rots the brain? They’ll listen when Michael Franti raps, “TV is the reason/why less than 10 percent of our nation reads books daily/why most people think/Central America means Kansas, Socialism means un-American, and Apartheid is a new headache remedy.” The only question is: Are you ready for your kids to become militants?

“I Know You Got Soul” (1987), by Eric B. and Rakim. Rakim raps, “It’s a four-letter word when it’s heard, it control your body to dance …” But no need to dive for the volume control — the four-letter word to which he is referring is soul. During the so-called golden age of hip-hop (let’s call it 1984-93), DJ Eric B. and MC Rakim were regarded as the most talented combo around.

“120 Seconds” (1991), by Freestyle Fellowship. The four members of this pioneering jazz-rap group — Aceyalone, Myka 9, P.E.A.C.E., and Self Jupiter — became friends when they attended the same schools in Los Angeles. Their wordplay and pop-culture references are dizzying.

“Kick, Push” (2006), by Lupe Fiasco. This Grammy-nominated song is a love story about a skateboarder who tells the girl he loves that, “I would marry you/But I’m engaged to these aerials and varials/And I don’t think this board is strong enough to carry two.” What a sexist! His love interest, who turns out to be an even more experienced skater than he is, sets him straight.

“Monie in the Middle” (1990), by Monie Love. Via complex rhymes, a high school girl proclaims her right to decide what she wants out of a romantic relationship, and life. “I made my decision, precisely, precision is a must/ For me to solve another riddle/ Step into a brand-new rhythm, ism schisms/ Nope, I’m not with ‘em.”

“Bridging the Gap” (2004), by Nas. Nas is widely considered to be one of the greatest rappers of all time. On this song, which features a guest appearance by his father, the jazz cornetist Olu Dara, he attempts to bridge the generation gap between rappers and older musicians.

“Ham’N’Eggs” (1990), by A Tribe Called Quest. Phife Dawg, Q-Tip, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and Jarobi White celebrate soul food while promoting vegetarianism and healthy eating at the same time: “Asparagus tips look yummy, yummy, yummy/ candied yams inside my tummy/ a collage of good eats, some snacks or nice treats/ applesauce and some nice red beets.”

***

MORE SLATE.COM ESSAYS by Joshua Glenn.

MORE HIP HOP on HiLobrow.

“Ever wished you could check out the latest moves on the stockmarket without turning on the TV or loading up the web browser on your phone?

“Well, thanks to a company called Renew, you can now access news, weather and travel information via that most ubiquitous piece of street furniture: the bin (or ‘recycling point’ as the firm’s press release puts it).

“Renew currently has 50 bin/screen units in the heart of London, and this will rise to 200 in time for the Olympics. The company calls the idea ‘the first of a new generation of “on-the-go” media’, and says the editorial team behind the plan will cover breaking news, weather, the arts and sports.”

City braced for rubbish news - Citywire Money, via @antimega

“Olfactory training of bees has been used to locate mines and weapons of mass destruction. The Hybrid Insect Micro Electromechanical Systems (HI-MEMS) program is aimed at developing technology to provide control over insect locomotion, just as reins are needed for effective control over horse locomotion.”

Hybrid Insect Micro Electromechanical Systems (HI-MEMS)

Two CJ neologisms:

• “Oh, drubbles” — this means roughly the same as “Oh, drat.”
• “Bluz, bluz, bluz” — this means something like “bla bla bla” or “yadda yadda” and is to be uttered in a world-weary tone of voice.

I actually think both of these are superior to the more standard expressions of those emotions.

Also, CJ ate five eggs and four pancakes for breakfast this morning.  Wowza.