A while ago in Manhattan's Little Italy, I went with friends to a small restaurant that was nearly empty.
Soon after our drinks were served, more people began arriving and
their numbers grew consistently for two or three minutes until the entire
place was filled. Like clockwork, cheap house wine was delivered to each table
and a man who resembled the late-Elvis began testing his Casio keyboard.
Before long, the entire group was singing the theme song from (the 70's T.V. situation
comedy) the Brady Bunch, for lack, I presume, of any other festive and shared culture.
Most people in advanced industrialized societies
have become so accustomed to having their art and entertainment delivered
to them as a commodity that they have trouble producing much of
anything that constitutes more than an echo of the mass culture. As "popular" musicians
become ever more entangled in product marketing, the experience of music as a phenomenon
generated by family members, locally, and for friends, continues to deteriorate.
This has consequences for a network art practice, for it may be that such practice should strive to awaken a
dormant creative capacity which can in turn engage history and cultural tradition.
The commercial sector, in its prodigiously funded initiatives to make of
e-commerce something more effective than broadcast, is not burdened
by any agenda to improve its customers. In the falling away of legislation,
its general operating principle has been to encourage masterbatory distraction,
for the love of profit. Whether curators and artists reject this destructive
cynicism in the name of humanism, Marxism, or even libertarianism, is of secondary
concern to me; the mercenary revolution that has seized the
Internet is a movement that should be seriously counteracted. Moreover, artists and museums
can play an important role in sustaining alternative standards, ones that embrace a
fuller potential of interactive, networked media than is motivated by commerce.
Passive consumerism reigns, whereas the capacity to contribute and conduct
has become too rare. Many cultures, including earlier manifestations of American
culture, have shown an aptitude for creative participation that would be the envy of
networked art. In the masked dance rituals of the villagers of Cote d'Ivoire, for
example, I have seen forms of spontaneous interaction that differ markedly from the object/spectator
and performance/spectator dichotomies of Western culture. Therefore I am skeptical when some dismiss the
possibility that meaningful interaction can be a commonplace in the networked
spaces of the Internet. Likewise, I am unconvinced that navigational clicking
from "here" to "there" represents the frontier of creative contribution by the spectator.
On the contrary, the very language we use to analyze and describe network interactivity is
imbued with the slanted rhetoric of profit extraction and content minimization. We
are forever hearing of "browsers" -- a term that implies the act of searching to buy --
when in many cases such software frames experiences that concern neither searching
nor buying. "Client" and "server" also are loaded terms that reflect dubious assumptions
about the horizons of the 'net.