Digitized Aesthetics
No. 15, April 2004
Predictions about the total “digitization” of art will remain futuristic fantasies, as over the past century there have been repeated announcements of the death of traditional visual art and the beginning of a “new countdown.” But fortunately, neither computers nor televisions manage to replace the familiar, pre-virtual models of cultural products in our lives.
Contemporary art has actually already incorporated all kinds of digital forms and established a specific niche for them, just as it happened earlier with what was new. The global art system actively encourages the development of media art, as evidenced by the huge number of international exhibitions, workshops, festivals, and screenings that present only media works. Both the creation and the demonstration of such works require serious funding and professionalism; by the way, European institutions are more willing to spend money on “special effects” than American ones, where the cult of the material object in art is stronger. However, even in European museums, media installations are rarely seen, where, for example, volumetric bodiless figures roam the space alongside viewers, or the sound of a sharply braking car (costing more than 20 thousand dollars) suddenly sounds when you cross a certain boundary.
Undoubtedly, developing digital technologies have become an integral part of art, and their influence has changed not only the very concept of a work of art but also the space of its existence. The emergence of new techno-virtual practices in the context of the “mediatization” of all social life has expanded the “habitat” of contemporary art. Web and Net-art, projections and multimedia installations, digital printing – all these forms can be exhibited both inside and outside exhibition halls.
It is precisely in connection with the introduction of technologies that questions about authorship and originality, the uniqueness of a work have intensified. Marat Gelman argues that “the prerogative of the original has for centuries provided the basis for creating various institutions that protect and confirm it, and that in the coming years this centuries-old structure will collapse.” But the Western art market, which has long been engaged in collecting and trading intangible art, seems to have practically resolved this problem by extending the rule of limited editions to video products, which has long existed for photographic copies. A museum or collector knows exactly that they are buying the 2nd of 3 prints, or the 8th of 10 video carriers – and there is no difference between them. “Digital is a religion for images, … equating copies and originals, just as death equates the righteous and the unrighteous,” says Moscow artist Viktor Alimpiev. As for the contradiction between authorship and participation in the production of high-tech works by sometimes entire teams of various specialists, this issue is also resolved on a material level: if the artist hires an operator or programmer, the work remains his personal property; if he simply asks someone to “shoot or edit,” he often gets a co-author.
The exhibition “New Countdown. Digital Russia together with Sony,” which featured not only Russian but also Ukrainian artists, provided an occasion to talk about the euphoria and problems associated with the digitization of contemporary art. Its exposition in Moscow at the Central House of Artists, prepared by Marat Gelman’s gallery, is dedicated to art in the era of new technologies.
“New Countdown,” according to the curators’ idea, did not mean an exhibition of only digital art. The starting point was chosen as “art after the digital.” In fact, the exhibition included works made in “pre-technological” genres alongside digital ones, in approximately equal proportions. The abundance and quality of technical equipment made the overall technological backwardness of Russian-Ukrainian art compared to the world level especially noticeable, as it is obvious that traditional techniques are more accessible and familiar to most artists. By the way, there was not a single work of network art at the exhibition.
The change in attitude towards artistic fantasy in connection with the spread of digital technologies was noted by Viktor Alimpiev. “Unlike surrealism, which always has quite ‘analog’ truths at its foundation – psychoanalysis, revolutionary struggle, some ‘inner world’ – digital fantasy is deeply indifferent to the structure of the world. One can say that the joy of irresponsibility – a specific mindset of the virtual era – has become a new basis for creativity… One can say that digital devices have produced a ‘distracted creator,’ just as cinema, according to Benjamin, produced a distracted viewer…”.
Three principles of the author’s attitude to virtual space can be distinguished. The first consists in an attempt to connect virtual and real space. A direct illustration of this idea – the “convergence of two spaces” – can be considered the work “My Land” by Moscow artist Gor Chahal. Visitors in the very first hall of the Moscow exhibition inevitably stepped “onto the carpet” – a square of white carpet measuring 64 square meters, on which a black pixel pattern was printed by digital printing. At the same time, other viewers outside the carpet could observe their movement along geometric patterns on a laptop monitor.
Instead of high-tech, the post-Soviet version is dominated by “low” technologies, rather artisanal and makeshift means, but demonstrating unique and ingenious technical solutions. For example, Vyacheslav Mizin, in collaboration with Alexander Shaburov, known for their “knee video,” combined a video camera lens with a kaleidoscope. The image of the escalator leading to the exhibition turned into a changing abstract mosaic. The members of the “Institution of Unstable Thoughts” also found a skillful and witty balance between the real and synthesized worlds in their “Cinematic Meditation.” It is precisely such works that convince the viewer of the untenability of Baudrillard’s gloomy threats about the totalitarian violence of technologies. Fortunately, such a threat does not yet exist in Russia or Ukraine.
The departure from the fascinating game of connecting the real and virtual lies in the active use of the features of the digital image itself. This method characterizes the “entry and operational use of digital aesthetics in various visual genres” and the development of the concept of “readymade.” It is no longer limited to the framework of a finished object or image: a readymade used by an artist can now be any space – social or, as in this case, virtual. Artists actively use the structure and interface of the latter. The author turns from a user into an analyst, manipulating all kinds of forms, signs, and images borrowed from games, programs, and the Internet. Often these are static images – painting or digital printing, such as the series of huge square canvases by Georgy Puzenkov “Just Virtual.” The paintings meticulously imitate a monitor screen, where we sequentially view some masterpieces of art history enclosed in a familiar Windows window, emphasizing the coldness and inferiority of the screen image.
“Beautiful Helenas” by Yuri Avakumov are sensual color portraits of “ideal women.” They are created by the method of multiplied superimposition of numerous images “downloaded” from open porn resources on the Internet and look so much like paintings that it is hard to guess their true origin.
The author’s attitude to virtual space may not be exhausted by the two described above – the third is represented by ironic statements by artists about various media, their characteristics, and individual fragments. Here, on the contrary, the authors engage in “decoding” digitized information and mostly use various non-digital artistic methods. Therefore, painterly interpretations of the notorious pixels are inevitable – works by Igor Gusev or Alexander Pogorzhelsky. Vasily Tsagolov’s painting “Phantoms of Fear” can also conditionally be attributed to “pixel” art, as upon closer examination it breaks down into separate fragment-strokes that do not connect on the white canvas, but this is not the main point in his ironic game with virtuality. Tsagolov rather denies the very aesthetics of virtuality – the untrue state of things – and offers instead a mix of surrounding and fairy-tale reality.
Protest against total computerization and nostalgia for creative hooliganism are generally characteristic of Russian art. For example, Dmitry Prigov in staged photographs “Computer in a Russian Family” turns this high-tech device into one of the household items, decorated with an embroidered napkin and figurines. In our archaic and engulfing apartment life, it can serve as a mirror, a light source for reading, and even a footrest. And it needs to be washed without sparing the soapy foam. Some artists boil computers and printers in pots, melt scanners and mice in microwave ovens – what a sample of a barbaric artistic gesture!
Finally, it is worth mentioning the problems of perceiving a technogenic artistic product. Its phantom, virtual mode offers new forms of viewer perception and often participation. Both the initiated and uninitiated viewer primarily want to understand the meaning of what is happening to feel comfortable. Sadly, many digital art experiments are too complex for the average visitor, even the average “user.” How, for example, can one immediately understand the essence of video works “I don’t know anyone who loves MPEG more than me,” “Study HTML,” or “CyberPushkin 1.0 beta”? Although for young audiences, this is probably more understandable not only than the previous pre-technological avant-garde but also classical art. Viewer activity leaves much to be desired – most are afraid to press buttons, although many works simply lose their meaning without it. Not knowing, it is hard to guess that you can (and should!) hit the televisions of Alexey Shulgin and Aristarkh Chernyshov – after each hit, the image changes color and shape, turning into various zigzags, diamonds, and circles.
The conclusion inevitably suggests itself that it is not the demonstration of high-tech methods but rather a playful and parodic approach that enjoys the greatest success. The contemporary artist inevitably faces the temptation to invent ideas for new technical possibilities. Here lies the danger of becoming a hostage to technical progress, a passive user of new high-tech toys. According to Dmitry Prigov, “all computer works are, albeit dissected by computer means, images, performances, communication and complex textual projects. So far, the unit of a computer project has not become the operation as such in its ontological purity. Although, of course, the image of a certain modern character surrounded by an incredible number of various devices and wires works quite well, fitting into a number of numerous artistic images already established by modern culture and art.”
In conclusion, we agree that technology is just a relatively new tool for artistic expression. Blind faith in the omnipotence of the computer leads to outright techno-graphomania, and the deeper the work is imbued with high-tech settings, the more formal it is and the less art it contains. The best works test virtuality in every way and contain at least a trace of irony towards technological progress.
For the first time, technique as a cultural phenomenon was discussed in Germany and Russia at the end of the 19th century by philosophers and engineers. In 1877, the German Ernst Kapp wrote the book “Foundations of the Philosophy of Technology,” and in 1911, the descendant of Germanized Russians, Petr Engelmeier, spoke at the Fourth World Philosophical Congress in Bologna with a proposal for a new discipline – “philosophy of technology.” In 1929, in the program of the “Circle on General Issues of Technology,” Engelmeier formulated practically all the questions that philosophers of technology and media theorists dealt with throughout the 20th century. What is technology, and where are its boundaries? Which spheres of human activity are related to technology? What is the role of technology in human evolution, in the history of culture, art, and social organization? 1929 became the last year of the circle’s existence, and the influence of technology on culture and social organization was not heard of until the 1980s.
In European philosophical thought, a pessimistic attitude towards technology dominated for quite a long time. Technology was considered a force beyond human control, developing according to its own logic, inevitably changing the course of human life and the very meaning of existence. The only utopian solution philosophers saw was a rejection of technology in one form or another. Such views opposed techno-utopian ideas about a future society where inefficient people would be replaced by efficient machines, about a perfect apparatus of social management in which technical specialists would play the main role.
Only in the 1980s did the discipline of the sociology of technology first appear, considering technology as a product of human activity rather than an autonomous force. Technology began to be seen as something whose form is influenced not only by engineering solutions and efficiency issues but also by human, social, political, and many other factors. The motto of sociologists of technology became the idea that “any technology could have turned out differently.” Histories of the creation of bicycles, typewriters, and refrigerators were analyzed, revealing factors that influenced the fixation of these technologies in the form that now seems inevitable to us. For example, it was shown that the victory of the electric refrigerator over the gas one was exclusively the result of the connections and PR talents of its creator.
Sociologists of technology developed several theories about the stages of technological product development. They dispute the notion of the inevitability and uniqueness of the path of development of technical systems and prove the openness of technology to human influence at various stages of formation. Technology ceases to be “visible” and dependent on the actions of creators or users only at the final stage of “closure” – the “black box” stage.
The ideas of the inevitability and power of technical logic are also contradicted by the fact that technological products are often used not as planned by engineers. Users endow them with other, their own meanings, modifying products “for themselves.” It turns out that people are much more capable of modifying technology, creating various alternative functions than philosophers of technology assumed. It is precisely practical experiments in “using” technology, rather than theoretical ideas, that much earlier contribute to the introduction of new concepts into culture. It is such experiments with ways of cultural use, modification, and deconstruction of technology that form the basis of media art – the art of new technologies.
Anna Goryunova, Alexey Shulgin
“Technology, Culture, and the Avant-Garde in Russia”,
excerpts from the articleLink
