The paper formerly know as
good vibrations
time as
special effect
Sean Cubitt
LIVERPOOL JOHN
MOORES UNIVERSITY, ENGLAND
VISITING FELLOW
IN THE SCHOOL OF TELEVISION IMAGING, DUNCAN OF JORDANSTONE
COLLEGE OF ART, UNIVERSITY OF DUNDEE, SCOTLAND
Keynote address for "Digital
Aesthetics: A Symposium on the Cultures of Time and the Everyday",
Innis College, University of Toronto, April 15th 2000
1.
Why digital realism is not indexical
2.
Precepts for a digital artwork
2.
Precepts for a digital artwork
The
primary task of the contemporary artwork is not to represent
an object world to a subject supposed to have a monopoly on
consciousness. That task belonged to a historical epoch when
the emergent and then triumphant industrial bourgeoisie required
an artistic and scientific culture to promote the philosophy
of willed domination over an alienated nature and an objectified
and to that extent also alienated industrial class structure.
Industrial capital created a culture of materials, including
technology and the labour force, that required the form-giving
principles of an industrial aesthetic, focused on the intensely
local hub of manufacture: the factory. Industrial networks
were a function of their nodes.
In
the information economy, the nodes are functions of their
networks. The global today is necessarily prior to the local,
especially those localities which, like the border free trade
zones of Tijuana studied by Coco Fusco, are sites of oppression.
The reality of a woman forced into prostitution by the strategic
requirements of the global economy cannot be photographed.
No indexical account, anchored in the preeminence of the local
in industrial culture, would be sufficient to understand the
forces acting on her. A photograph would only stir the sentimentality
defined a hundred years ago by the novelist Meredith: pleasure
without responsibility. Responsibility today derives not from
empathy, in any case a metropolitan prurience, but from understanding
the networks that force her into this double economic and
sexual oppression, the task of an iconic art, and the symbolic
regimes that describe, define and give meaning both to her
experience and to that of her oppressors, who include every
user of the computers she builds when not supplementing her
non-union subsistence wages with sex labour in the tourist
economy. The digital artwork must be networked, and
the formation of alternative networks is a critical function
of them.
An
artwork is material, and an artwork that fails to take account
of its materiality fails to that extent. Digital materials
are no exception. What is vital in the indexical quality of
media arts is not that they point away from themselves towards
a recorded past to which is ascribed a reality they deny themselves.
Rather, digital indexicality presents its own materiality
as what it is -- a concrete node constituted in the networks
of social relationships, including the NAFTA sweatshops. As
Margaret Morse (1998) argues of digital installation art,
the contemporary artwork must construct its own local, not
presume it. The embodiment that concerns it is not the
depicted body abstracted into a type that can be identified
as the body, but a specific body constructed as local in the
locality of the installation itself, a unique body which there
confronts the imbrication of embodiment in the global networks
that are brought to bear in the devices that surround it.
In this way the digital index points not towards the recorded
past of representation but to the materiality of the present
as a concrete node of a networked society. The digital
artwork must be material, and its materiality incorporates
the bodies that come into contact with it and the local space
and present time of their co-existence.
Which
brings us to a crucial issue: the digital artwork is processual.
When the index depicts its object, it both objectifies that
object and presents itself as another object standing over
against the depicted. But in the information economy, objectality
is a secondary effect of primary flows, an argument made as
forcefully by urbanists like Saskia Sassen (1991) and Manuel
Castells (1996) as it is by Deleuze and Guattari (1972, 1980).
In the attempt to image flow, the principle of indexicality
itself demands abandoning the index as primary resource, since
there is no object toward which it can stand in any relation.
Instead, the intrinsically relational symbol takes priority.
Information flows are relational first: content, expression,
even form are secondary to this materiality. If the digital
artwork is to be adequate to this relational world, it must
itself prioritise relations. Communication is that relationship
which precedes its terms -- from the same standpoint, a line
is no longer the shortest distance between two points; instead
the terminal points are defined by the activity of the line.
The active principle of communication defines senders and
receivers, not vice versa. The material process of establishing
relationships, which I tend to call mediation, is the core
task of digital art today. It should also be emphasised here
that the processes of mediation are not necessarily exclusively
human. In our field, they also can -- and perhaps must --
engage a relation that determines the material of mediation,
the technologies employed in it, as a term of the relation.
We can no longer deploy machines as fixed capital without
submitting ourselves to the anonymous and to that extent autonomous
dead labour of the machine in pursuit of that anonymity and
autonomy which post-subjectivity seeks in mirroring the dissolution
of the object in information flows. The digital artwork
must mediate, and in submitting to the mediation of technology,
offer itself to the task of vindicating the generations whose
lost lives are congealed into the shape of our devices.
The
acceleration of modernity in contemporary societies has reached
a point at which the pseudo-instantaneous management of data
flows has resulted in what at first glance appears as a total
administration of the present. When cultural critics as alert
as Paul Virilio describe communication as instantaneous, not
only do they deny the materiality of mediation; they fall
into an ideological trap laid precisely by the administration.
Discourse that surrenders to the ideology of light-speed communication
presents as normative the proposition that the present is
always already documented -- represented, distributed, consumed
and past. The technological fact is that transmission
is not only delayed by the institutional processing which
administration demands, but by the physical limits to
the speed of electromagnetic wave forms. Very, very fast is
still not instantaneous, and the present should never be mistaken
for its occupation by images of even the most recent past
-- the one 25th of a second required, for example, to build
up an electron scan on a video monitor. As process, not object,
the digital artwork must inhabit the present as a moment
of becoming, a moment whose reception is therefore always
deferred into a future which has not yet become.
The
immediate result of this habitation of the present is that
the digital artwork is by nature ephemeral. The remarkable
archiving of web and net art undertaken by Steve Dietz at
the Walker
Art Gallery is a case in point. Dietz is clear as curator,
and the design of the frame that surrounds the documented
sites ensures that any visitor should be too, that what is
archived here is not art but documentation. The important
task of archiving does not deny ephemerality: on the contrary,
it affirms the gap between archive and art, and asserts if
anything the necessity of the distinction. Like the special
effects blockbuster, the digital artwork is condemned to be
cutting-edge, but unlike the blockbuster it doesn't suffer
from the patina of the out-of-date that so rapidly scratches
the emulsion of films that have passed their sell-by. Instead,
that passage into the archival ensures both that the code
enabling the work becomes a resource for other artists ('The
writer who does not teach other writers teaches no-one' --
Benjamin 1973) at the same time that it ceases to function
as an occupant of the present. If the web, as auto-surveillant
traffic in documents, is a self-mapping device, its cartography
is itself effervescent -- a simulation which is no sooner
recorded than it becomes defunct. In the same way, the instruction
set that generates a digital artwork is over as soon as it
has completed its run. This is why the effects movie is never
an artwork, and why Photoshop images are so aesthetically
moribund: what has been aesthetic in them is the process of
making -- once that process is terminated, the art is over,
and what is presented to the public is only its discarded
archival image. To this extent, whatever is mimetic in the
digital is a mimesis of a task already accomplished, a body
that is already past, and as such is excluded from the aesthetics
of digital artworks, in which the process is as yet unfinished.
The mimetic persists, but as a raw material for further processes.
In this sense, the digital artwork is obliged to be incomplete,
its ephemerality dependent on the deferral of all goals to
a time which cannot be achieved in the artwork, but toward
which it aspires, and in whose direction it gestures.
Moreover,
the ephemerality of the digital is an integral element of
its formal properties. As Virilio would say, the invention
of the computer is also of necessity the invention of the
computer crash. Many of the most significant works -- Jodi's
are the most obvious -- are dependent on the disruption of
the normative efficiency which has been inscribed into computer
design as an ideology if not a reality. In a recent piece,
Lapses
and Erasures, Sawad Brooks undertakes a related task,
writing in a text note to the piece
In
analog media, when something is erased, it is often possible
to sense the mark left by erasure. Thus Rauschenberg was able
to present his "Erased de Kooning" drawing as his own (ironically).
Erasure leaves its own traces, it is writing or drawing. It
is a wiping clean which puts forth an order with the possibility
of decipherment. . . . I make drawing interfaces to draw upon
the erasure of erasure in the realm of the digital.(Brooks
2000: np).
If
drawing is a practice in which the artist subordinates herself
to the activity of the line as to a machine designed to generate
a non-volitional autonomy from selfhood, as it is in the work
of David Connearn,
subordination to the technologies of computer memory offer a
further tool: the double negation of the erasure which the computer
also enables, its amnemotechnics, becomes a resource for the
construction of the future as the erased erasure of the past.
The proof is that it is almost impossible to erase a file accidentally.
Traces remain from which skilled operators can retrieve even
the most shredded data as, once again, the Microsoft trial researchers
proved in their fossicking among the dead-letter offices of
internal e-mails. Erasure is a making of traces in the form
of what has been erased, but where in analogue media what is
revealed is the surface which the erased drawing itself erased,
in the digital there is no preexisting surface, only the space
created by the act of recording, so that what erasure produces
is the evidence of a surface that never existed prior to the
erasure. At the same time, however, the erasure is never complete,
but approaches asymptotically to the mystical point of zero
existence. Here, as in the attempt to make a total artwork,
zero resembles infinity more than it does unity, and can only
be approached by infinitesimal subdivisions of the existing.
Where analogue media had the power to work in the binary opposition
of presence and absence, the digital are endowed or cursed with
an inability to deal in absolutes. To this extent then, the
digital artwork must be imperfect, since it can never achieve
either absolute existence nor absolute absence. The greatest
benefit of this discovery is that the imperative towards harmony
need not be heeded, and the digital is thus freed of the necessity
of harmonising formally a world which is, in all its relations,
so profoundly inharmonious. The digital is profoundly incapable
of that perfected harmony in which the ideological tasks of
societies are achieved under the guise of the autonomous artwork.
The
processual nature of digital art makes it incomplete and imperfect,
in the sense that it cannot achieve the absolute completion
and perfection of pure presence. In fact that metaphysics
of presence, abandoned first by mathematics in the mid 19th
century, now haunts, as absence, only the transitory sublime
of annihilation as special effect. Nonetheless, though practice
has all but abandoned it, the sublime still haunts contemporary
aesthetics from Adorno to Danto as both the Kantian marvelling
at domination and its negation -- the abjection of the subject.
This unappetising metaphysical binary suits the times, as
visible in the new cult of Bataille as it is in the neo-Kantianism
of Lyotard's late writings. The result is a performance, typical
of idealist metaphysics, that simulates the aesthetic dialectic
in the static play of a rational/irrational binary that merely
enacts modernity's logic of efficiency and degradation. In
aesthetic terms, here rigor mortis masquerades as danse macabre.
It fails not so much because of this stasis, however, nor
because of its misreading of the present as 'what is the case',
but because it takes reason and unreason as essential
terms in an epoch in which essences no longer pertain. What
distinguishes the digital artwork is its elegance, in
the sense intended by David Gelernter: its clarity, economy
of means, operational grace.
This
is not to say that digital artworks are passionless and formalist.
On the contrary: the hall of binary mirrors that traps essentialist
art produces that affectless manipulation of tear ducts, erections
and fight-or-flight adrenal secretions in sedentary and stultified
consumers. It is rather the case that the characteristic emotions
of digital artworks -- the movement through disorientation
to new orientation, for example, in a dislocated place, the
gasp at beauty realised on the wing, the complex humour of,
for example, the First
International Competition of Form Art -- are more subtly
and actively conformed to the changed character of accelerated
modernity. They are, in a word, necessary. The digital
artwork must be necessary: its elegance is a function
of the need for the work. That need can no longer be formed
as expression, although it remains true that contemporary
capital is ever more dependent on the hyperindividuated narcissism
of the competitive corporate playpen, and an art that pretends
to bypass that lens of subjectivity thereby fails to respond
to the necessity of individuation as a passage through which
a work moves. Expression remains, but now as the anonymous
product of autonomous networks.
Aesthetic
necessity arises at once from the fact of flow, its mediations
and the temporalities they engender. The tendency of capital
is toward monopoly; that of its flows toward domination. Control
over financial flows in particular is the goal of transnational
capital. But this goal is realisable only in the eradication
of difference, that difference which produces flow from one
place to another. That difference, since it cannot be eradicated
systemically without destroying the flows themselves, is now
displaced into the managed future of corporate planning, most
directly in the simulation of futures markets. But when the
future is evoked as the basis of global stability, capital
faces a crisis of unpredictability. As ideology, future modelling
depends on ever more refined data sets and ever more
rigorous algorithms for their projection. But it is precisely
in computer modelling that the problem of turbulence is posed
most categorically. Not only definitionally but technically,
the future resists modelling.
By
dint of its pseudo-theological position in the regime of global
data flows and their perpetually deferred promise of perpetually
deferred payment, the future is held to vindicate the claims
of the present to wholeness and completion. But the deferral
on which that wholeness rests denies that wholeness to it.
As the active relationality of networks, mediation, by definition
in process and incomplete, is thus forced to pretend to a
completion to which it cannot attain. It materiality is deferred
into the not-yet as the price of its present functioning (a
state of affairs that generates the illusion of static binary
oppositions). This contradiction in turn generates the digital
aesthetic as its necessary outcome: the materiality is restored
to the present, while the function is shifted into the unforeseeable
future. Hegel's concept of art as the consciousness of need
is the inspiration for this insight, but as the digital aesthetic
arises from the relationality of global networks inclusive
of human and machine components, that consciousness is now
not individual or even merely social, but cyborg. The digital
artwork is cyborg: it responds to the institutional, economic
and discursive formation of corporations as actually existing
cyborgs by building an alternative consciousness in which
the mechanical is no longer the object of domination but integral
partner in the production of culture. Neither the consciousness
under construction nor the need to which art responds are
then entirely or purely human.
In
order for the future to be held up as the settling of accounts
on the promissory notes of the economic, political and ecological
present, it is essential for the administration of global
data flows that the future be isolated from the present, so
that the promised completion on the deals which are the dominant
mode of communication today need never arise. Here a specifically
temporal contradiction arises: the difference between future
and present is both affirmed and eradicated. The future must
be both continuous with the present (all debts depend on the
concept that they can eventually be paid) and entirely divorced
from it (since debt is the motor of financial flows, they
must never be allowed to be paid). It is this faultline of
difference between present and future that requires the digital
as its necessary outcome: its elegance derives in part from
its determination as the inhabitance of the present as difference.
The digital artwork has no choice but to affirm the immanence
of the future at the point of its emergence.
The
necessity of the digital artwork is then not organic in the
sense propounded by Romantic aesthetic philosophy, since it
necessarily abjures wholeness. Instead, the digital works
at the level of mediation as the unhappy conscience of dominant
communication, a cyborg will to grace. The digital is then
communicative rather than representational. This places it
in opposition to the evolution of e-cash as the supposedly
immaterial universal signifier of all exchange values, promoting
the substitutability of everything for anything. Asserting
aesthetic difference restores neither the individuality of
objects nor the objectality of individuals, the reciprocal
functioning of index and identity resulting from industrial
modes of communication. Instead it assets the primacy of mediation,
of the material of relations. In this perspective, the digital
artwork can be assessed according to the breadth, depth and
complexity of the networks it engages or engenders. Unlike
Deleuzean difference, however, aesthetic difference is not
an absolute horizon external to all humanity and all communication,
but a difference intrinsic to communication which, viewed
outside the confining determinations of the actually existing
historical conditions, is defined by its tendency towards
inclusiveness and its capacity for translation, misunderstanding
and so for interpretation and systemic innovation. Communication's
own need, bred in the interface of combined human and technological
networks, is that of a newly cyborg communicative species
for inclusion and autonomy. The digital is the necessary next
phase in this historical process, a process which I believe
is synonymous with history: hastening the globalisation of
the mediating infrastructure while driving forward those internal
contradictions that make the global and deferred information
economy unthinkably neither present nor future. Like Ed Dorn's
railway wagon, everything is behind and nothing in front.
Mediation is the activity through which the hybrid communicative
species become, and specifically how they become other than
they now are.
When,
as D.N. Rodowick explains it, Deleuze argues that 'what philosophy
resists' is 'the globalization and banalization of information
as a power that affirms the dominance of late capitalism'
(Rodowick 1997: 192), we perceive both the binarism that hog-ties
Deleuze's philosophy for lack of a dialectic, and the weakness
of a politics that relies on the unequal struggle of philosophy
against world capitalism. You can be guaranteed that philosophy
will only ever resist, and that it will never triumph. Against
this brave, pious but ineffectual quietism, and against what
Eco (Eco 1986: 93)refers to as the 'negative theology' of
philosophical nihilism from Heidegger to Baudrillard, the
digital artwork must be communicative, for only communication
is vast enough and necessary enough to endure and to overcome
the vicissitudes through which it is being tortured in the
age in which communication is information, information is
power, and money and data are electronically indistinguishable.
The
implication of the theses of ephemerality and communication
is that the digital has an altered relation with consumption.
Much electronic art owed and owes its genesis to the conceptual
art of the 1970s and to the critique of the commodity which
gave rise to media as varied as LeWitt's instruction sets,
the Situationist dérive and the community workshop
and newsreel movements. But now that the commodity itself
is in a state of implosion, a vacuity both raged against and
celebrated in the rage of mainstream culture from Tarantino
to rap, the focus of the digital is shifting from the provision
of objects whose contemplation exposes the emptiness of the
commodity towards building encounters for participation. This
has little to do with what is usually referred to by the term
interaction. It concerns rather factors such as the level
of skill required of both producers and participants in digital
artworks. The digital artwork demands that audiences acquire
a determinate set of skills and understandings to participate
fully in the work. In Toshio Iwai's Resonance of Four, for
example, there is a default state which is pretty but dull,
while random gestures with the track ball will produce interactive
'rewards', coloured lights and sounds. But the experience
of the work as artwork demands both understanding the principle
of the device as a composing machine, and working in consort
with three other users to create music. Artisanship is
integral to the digital: so the best artists are also
either engineers or groups including technologists and programmers,
and so our students demand of us programming skills more than
bundled packages. This goes against the current of the televisualisation
of the web, where the end-user defined html language is being
submerged in a wave of server-defined Javascript while, as
Tim Berners-Lee (1999) argues, the full interactive power
of alternatives like the Linux-based Amaya browser remain
unexplored and marginalised. The old balance cannot be restored:
instead, it must be remade, as it is in interventions like
The Webstalker
that not only offer control but demand active participation.
Something similar is true of RTMark's
web works, which imitate the control structures of corporate
web-design but demand action if they are to be experienced
not as parody but as art.
Digital
media are grounded in work in a second sense: to return to
an earlier theme, electronic media are grounded not in leisure,
as the televisualisation of the web insists, but in the workplace.
In place of the elite contemplation of the refined consumer,
the digital artwork demands the intellectual and emotional
graft needed to change the work into something else, very
clearly in the collective montage projects now such
an integral part of web art, but also in projects like Sera
Furneaux's Kissing Booth, where users not only orchestrate
virtual kisses but record their own into the booth's database.
In this instance, the work does not exist until the user provides
the input. This culture of the database is akin to activist
post-artworks like the SOS Racisme mail-bombing of Le Pen's
National Front, or the Zapatista Interneta's of the Frankfurt
stock exchange. Conceptualism left a legacy of anti-commodity
art: its dialectical outcome is a pro-work work. The digital
artwork is work, a labour shared in the human-computer
interface and, like any work, founded in a social process
that demands cooperation among workers, and between workers
and those anonymous forebears whose skills are enshrined and
concretised in the dead labour of our machines.
As
work, the digital requires the shared labour, specifically,
of artist and audience, to the extent that the distinction
begins to blur. To what extent are Audio-ROM the authors of
a sound piece I might make with their programmes and interfaces
but using my own samples and, since the coding is open, my
own coding too? On the one hand, this scares those brought
up in the expressive ideology of the art schools, and on the
other the pious elitism of humanist scholars who, 30 years
ago, leapt at the novel focus of the Birmingham Centre for
Contemporary Cultural Studies to abandon attempts to understand
labour. Yet work is today a curiously liberating principle.
To the extent that artists relinquish control over the artwork
and, to that extent, over the audience, the audience must
assume the same degree of responsibility for the work that
the artist has abandoned in offering it to them. Without that
assumption of responsibility, the artwork resorts to the default
state of older art: passivity and what we must now understand
as the anaesthetic. The digital artwork demands responsibility:
there is no art where the audience does not take up this gauntlet
and where instead it reserves for itself the sentimental position,
enjoyment without responsibility. This is the burden of Eduardo
Kac's Teleporting
an Unknown State, in which the survival of a small plant
depended on CUSeeMe clients providing it with remote sunlight,
or Ken Goldberg's Telegarden
which depended on telerobotic users to tend the garden. Likewise,
since even in death the labour of past centuries is still
exploited, the digital artwork's destiny is to redeem and
liberate the concretised labour embodied in our communicative
machines. That is how the past becomes future, beyond the
old lie of posterity. After all, we are the future that our
ancestors looked to to judge and justify them, and we are
not worthy -- unless we seize the present as the becoming
of their future. This is the responsibility which we take
up, the only people among all the humans who have ever lived,
who are alive now.
Under
the existing circumstances difference is not a given, a foundation
(however complex) or a horizon but a job of work: making a
difference. Communication, under the historical conditions
of contemporary capital, can no longer be presumed as an a-historical
given. In a time in which it is almost entirely identifiable
with the circulations of global finance, such that our consumption
of commodities even is merely a necessary moment in the circuits
of capital, communication must be fabricated, since it is
no longer natural. On this fabrication depends the making
of a culture that is no longer crowned by the negation of
its own negativity, as remains the case with accelerated modernity.
Instead, the digital must turn towards the positive construction
of the present as difference, a creation that only becomes
possible in the era of a planetary communications infrastructure.
As construction, the digital must forswear the sublime, for
the sublime confronts us not as the incomprehensible but as
the incommunicable, an absolute horizon beyond history. To
construct is to act historically, to embrace the interests,
human and technological, that have been left so egregiously
unsatisfied by the culture of the commodity, itself increasingly
embraced in the anaesthetic of its own sublime absence from
itself. Change is the quality of history and of beauty --
what is transient, what comes into being in the moment as
the emergence of futurity. The digital artwork must be
beautiful.
These
explorations can be summarised in terms of a series of principles
I have tried to voice here:
The
digital artwork must be networked
The digital artwork must be material
The digital artwork is processual
The digital artwork must mediate
The digital artwork must inhabit the present as a moment
of becoming
The digital artwork is obliged to be incomplete
The digital artwork is by nature ephemeral
The digital artwork must be imperfect
What distinguishes the digital artwork is its elegance
The digital artwork must be necessary
The digital artwork is cyborg
The digital artwork must be communicative
Artisanship is integral to the digital
The digital artwork is work
The digital artwork demands responsibility
The digital artwork must be beautiful
The
digital is a malleable aesthetics (Deck 1999), based on the
principle that anything that can be made can be remade. Where
the artworks of the industrial era hover between existence and
non-existence, presence and absence, the digital seizes on the
not-yet for its own domain at the moment of its emergence. Its
time is the time of becoming. The cost is great: the loss of
permanence, of authority, of wholeness. As work, the artwork
that ceases to transform the emergence of the future ceases
to be art and becomes archive: the vibration of binary industrial-era
art no longer animates the démodé. The innocence
of play is denied us in a time when play has become a key strategy
of the corporate management of creativity in hock to the production
of new consumer goods. We may no longer inhabit the present
for its own sake, as the impressionists and the Lumière
brothers could, but only for the sake of a future for which
we are enjoined to take responsibility. The great negation which
guided the avant-gardes of the 20th century no longer holds
in the 21st, and without that guide, we risk the sentimental
positivity of Ewoks and tamagotchis. Most of all, we suffer
the immense burden of beauty, the terrible onus of bringing
into existence. But on the positive side, we have the whole
of history, its staggering defeats and millennia of immiseration,
to propel us into the new.
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SITES
CITED and other relevant links
Anti-Rom http://www.antirom.com/antirom01/index.html
Digital Landfill http://www.potatoland.org/landfill/
Digital Souls http://www.digitalsouls.com/
Form Art Competetion Winners http://remote.aec.at/form/winners.html?
ICC Tokyo http://www.ntticc.or.jp/menu_e.html
Jodi http://www.jodi.org/
Eduardo Kac http://www.ekac.org/
Lapses and Erasures (Sawad Brooks) http://www.thing.net/~sawad/erase/
RTmark http://www.rtmark.com/
Telegarden http://www.usc.edu/dept/garden/
Teleporting an Unknown State http://www.ekac.org/teleporting.html
Walker Art Gallery New Media Initiatives http://www.walkerart.org/nmi/index.html
The Webstalker http://bak.spc.org/iod/
This
paper was originally presented as the keynote address for "Digital
Aesthetics: A Symposium on the Cultures of Time and the Everyday",
Innis College, University of Toronto, on April 15th 2000, and
published online at: http://www.imaging.dundee.ac.uk/people/sean/as.html
A
print copy of this paper is scheduled to be published by the
Canadian journal Public in an upcoming 2002 issue.
For more information, please visit the journal's website at:
http://www.yorku.ca/public
A
related article by Sean Cubitt titled future media, media
futures is available online at: http://www.waikato.ac.nz/film/staffpages/sean/inaugural.html
Digitalsouls.com
wishes to thank the journal Public and Sean Cubitt for their
kind permission to present this paper on digitalsouls.com.
October
5, 2001
San Francisco, California
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