Pick your jaw up from the floor, Div ... twice!

Jaw-dropper #1 is Linden Labs' bizarre asinine moronic obscene and I think self-destructive decision to double sim prices for nonprofit organizations and educational institutions, which (more or less by definition) are not major moneymakers yet are (more or less for the same reason) fonts of creativity. It's hard to imagine what LL's forecast is -- that these groups are heavily invested enough in SL that they'll choke down the additional US $150/month? Well, maybe a bunch of them will. My own university isn't doing squat in SL, but given its two rounds of layoffs, drastic cuts in the library acquisitions budget (ca. 40%), elimination of travel funds for professional (non-faculty) staff, etc etc, I doubt it would consider SL a great use of its cash. But maybe other schools are doing work in distance learning or other activities that would make the increased cost tolerable. It seems like a stretch to me. More endangered is involvement by nonprofits, many of which are small and often desperately underfunded; yes, there are a few enormous and essentially corporate foundations like the American Cancer Society, but it seems like time and again, LL's decisions favor the big guns and let the small players hang.  People keep saying small businesses generate the most jobs, maybe that should be a clue to what LL should really support....

Jaw-dropper #2 is a post John "Pathfinder" Lester (formerly Linden) wrote describing how people are already able to run OpenSim and Imprudence on a USB key. Yes: an entire virtual world and the ability to inhabit it, all on a single thumb drive, and all of its contents your own -- not rented, not reliant on someone else's servers. And since a viewer like Imprudence can be used with more than one virtual world, in principle it should be possible to seamlessly travel from OpenSim to Second Life to Inworldz and on. It's a declaration of Virtual World Independence. Go plug in.

Miso Susanowa's "code dreams"; or, "if (gAvatar == misoSusanowa) { state Identity; }"

Having picked on Miso Susanowa a little bit in a recent post, it turns out she's given me another morsel of food for thought, an intriguing one in the form of her piece at the Pop Art Lab's Art Breaker show, "code dreams." To understand it -- and certainly to make your way through it -- you can hardly do better than to read Miso's own blog post about it.

Miso is unusual among SL artists because sound is a -- perhaps the -- primary element in her work. (Her discussion of this is one reason her post about "code dreams" is so valuable.) It's crucial to turn up the volume on sounds, and probably the master volume control as well (you may want to turn down the UI volume if you do that). If you don't, you won't hear much of anything, which is how I missed almost everything in this piece the first time I visited it. Wearing earphones is a good idea, since the installation has stereo effects. Note that some objects play sounds only when you're nearby (camming isn't sufficient, though it's often valuable in order to increase volume); sometimes there is a bit of a delay before sounds play, probably due to SL sluggishness. Also, there are a lot of objects with sounds, and you may find it helpful to adjust their volume or turn one or two of them off temporarily (a click usually opens up a menu).

At first glance, "code dreams" looks like a random jumble of plants and objects and odds and ends, and perhaps not very interesting. But once you've adjusted the volume controls, "code dreams" clearly emerges as the immersive environment it is meant to be. It should be said, this quality is less pronounced in the first part of the installation, on the right side, which Miso identifies as the "input" side. (True to form, the first time I went, I unwittingly entered on the wrong side. The installation works better her way.) Here Miso introduces the most explicit codes in this work, starting with a cube at the entrance which gives a notecard about the piece, and has an image hidden within it.
Most of the codes in this part of the installation are of the computer sort: her SL avatar's unique alphanumeric key, an assortment of everyday identifiers such as her driver's licence number, audio waveform graphics, hexadecimals, and so forth. One object dispenses a notecard with a pure binary sequence of ones and zeroes. (I won't translate the computerese for you, but I'll reply to Miso by quoting Bertolt Brecht: "ein Mann ist kein Mann" ["one man is no man"].) However, "code dreams" also incorporates the fundamental code in the biological world: the four nucleic acids (as represented by letters) that combine in a dizzying array to create every living creature's ultimately unique DNA.
In the middle section ("processing"), the computer codes are subordinated to the more personal codes of memories and dreams. A couple of plants play bits of dialogue from the movie "The Wizard of Oz"; in one Dorothy declares that she'll stay where she belongs, in the other she defends the reality of her dream. A dog barks. A "guardian angel" sculpture plays a muffled recording of a child reciting a prayer. Bytes of computer and DNA code are scattered on the rug. A small table cluttered with childhood objects (some of which respond to touch) stands next to a girl's bed -- complete with Disney headboard -- which invites you to sleep. There, the sounds of the installation blend together in an intense and dynamic surround.

Aside from the soundscape here, which is wonderful, I have some mixed feelings about this part of the work. The focus on Miso's personal "codes" is problematic since there's not much to elucidate the context or the references, or even to indicate that these are references; Miso's post identifies them, but that provides only a little bit of help and one can't expect most people to read it. On the other hand, that focus fits with one of the work's other themes, identity. However, as if to alleviate this very problem, the bed table holds the "key" to the work, in the somewhat literal fashion of a golden key which delivers a poem called "code dreams." (It also tells Miso who touched it.) In the poem, Miso tells us that she both dreams in code, and codes dreams.

Miso's post calls the last section "output"; I'd describe it as "out into the world," where one can think big. The section is dominated by large "blossom tree," above which is a model solar system. Sit on the sun, and click planets on and off in order to play Miso's "Solar Symphony." The music is similar to Steve Reich's (especially his "18 Musicians") in its use of repeated and layered musical phrases and rhythms. (I love Reich's music, so frankly this was my favorite part of the installation.) Another piece on this side of "code dreams" is Shijin, a mechanoid "poet" who utters a number of poems into chat. And near the exit there's a "data" cube (with the word "data" repeated everywhere on its sides) that shrinks when you approach it to reveal an "information" sphere that will give you a copy of Miso's painting "The Artist as a Binary Process" -- a parallel to the cube in front of the entrance. These three pieces seem oriented toward the question of finding and expressing one's place in the world.
There are many more pieces in "code dreams": I'm only picking out the most prominent. Also, the elements in the three sections aren't nearly as discreetly separated as my description may suggest: binary, hexadecimal and nucleic code is scattered everywhere, a drum on the right seems to presage the themes of memory and dreaming in the middle section, and so forth.

The soundscapes of "code dreams" are impressive. However, I have to say, I'm not enthusiastic about computer metaphors for human thought and experience. Our minds are not computers: scientific research into cognition increasingly demonstrates that thought is emphatically an embodied activity -- the body is very much in the mind. Cognition and experience are emergent capabilities, simultaneously different from flesh as such, yet deeply rooted in it and existing only on its terms. We do not process inputs and produce outputs the way a computer does: our environment and our physical interactions with it structure the conduct of thought itself, in particular the way we create associations and metaphors (which are, it turns out, intrinsic to human cognition). The close of Miso's poem "code dreams" epitomizes what bothers me: the statement "physical world / only masks on the core of self" (or in the version in her blog, "the core of experience") articulates a dualistic view of the body/mind relationship, positing a deep division between them, in which our thoughts are Cartesian ghosts in the machine, our corporeality a mask shrouding our selves. I don't believe that.

And I'm not sure Miso really does either, precisely because she's an artist. Art depends on materiality just as the mind does. The codes dominating the first part of "code dreams" are more or less isolated abstractions rather than the ground of the work (although they are important to the theme of identity). They actually have a more concrete quality -- functioning less as interesting curiosities, and more as integral components -- in the dreamwork of the middle section, surrounding the bed of the little girl; and I say this, despite the problems of having work that alludes to but does not represent private experiences. So the codes and dreams of "code dreams" are in a difficult tension; perhaps the point is irony, though it feels more like ambivalence. In either case, when the codes become the background and not the focus of "code dreams," the work takes off. The dynamic is exemplified by music itself: yes, you could say that in music, "here's a note, here's another note, here are three at once" ... but you would be wrong. Thus the two strongest moments of "code dreams" are the most symphonic: bed and planets. The artist's professional code is to dream big.

It should go almost without saying that I'm poking at "code dreams" because I think it's a really stimulating work and I think you (O Reader) ought to haul yer ass over to the Pop Art Lab pronto, because the installations are supposedly going to be removed on 4 Oct. And there are seven more besides this one. So go -- NOW!

There are a number of interesting issues regarding the theme of identity, which is central to "code dreams," but I'm leaving the subject aside for another time.

Oh, and in tribute to Miso's themes of codes and identity, the alternative title to this post is an invented snippet of Second Life script (LSL). It means, "If the current avatar is Miso, set the program into the state of Identity (and do whatever you do in that state)."

soror Nishi's Tree of Trees

Just a short post on Tree of Trees, soror Nishi's newest major installation. One hardly needs to say more than that it's enormous, beautiful, iridescent, magnificent.  Not as enormous as Kolor Fall's builds I discussed previously, but certainly equal in magnificence.  It has a strong "rain forest" sense to it, and indeed there's an area where you can hear water dripping. More than that, however: if you turn ambient sound (and probably the master sound slider) all the way up, you can hear the drone of meditative singing (possibly throat singers of Tuva?). Meditation is I think a core element of Tree of Trees, as signaled by a poster in the landing area.

I only wish that soror had incorporated a few animations into the piece. There are a few sitting poses in one location, but I didn't locate any of interest. A couple of meditation poses or tai chi anims would be very fitting.

Some photos:

That Pest, the Audience

I attended a bit of the Art Breaker opening event at the Pop Art Lab -- much less than I would have liked (damn you, RL!), but a bit. From what I've read on other blogs, I missed some good stuff. I did catch the last half of the initial talks, including that of Pathfinder Lester (formerly Linden). I have to admit, most of what I heard didn't seem very informative (I won't be as hard on the speakers as sororNishi was, after all I missed a lot, but I also won't say she's wrong).

But my ears perked up when Pathfinder, near the end of his talk, spoke of artists affecting people's lives and their work needing to be known more widely. To me, this is crucial. Who is the audience for artists' work in SL? How can artists find their audience? The Art Breaker event drew a lot of people -- at one point the sim held as many as 63! -- but I could see that many of them were other artists, plus some gallery owners; I suspect that "outsiders" like me were a distinct minority (it would be interesting to find out). Pathfinder, albeit not an artist himself as best as I know, for his part talked mainly as though he expected only artists in the audience.

Now, it's neither surprising nor problematic that artists would mostly want to spend time with each other (and to some extent, gallery owners and patrons), stirring each other's ideas and encouraging each other onward. And when I've happened to meet them, I've had really interesting conversations with several artists, including Bryn Oh, Kolor Fall, AM Radio and Miso Susanowa, who were very generous with their time.

But at presumably public events, relationships between artists and non-artists (if present) seem to easily go a bit awry. For instance, when I attended Selavy Oh and Misprint Thursday's "Wedding" performance last January, it made an impression that at the reception afterward, when I thanked them for the (theoretically open) invitation and congratulated them on the piece, neither of them replied. Similarly, I went to an opening at Crossworlds once, where not only did the gallery hosts not greet me, they didn't notice that I asked them something. Hello? Audience here! You invited me!

Miso, in her own post on the Art Breaker event, criticises a "marketing maven" for recommending "pithy, zen-like SHORT [blog] postings," and she says, "Listen up, droid-boy: it all depends on what audience you're trying to reach. Now go get some real-world experience and call me back." I wasn't at that part of the event; for what it's worth, I agree that it depends on your audience, and still more, on your goals and the complexity of what you want to say (not to mention your particular writing style and abilities).

However, there is an obvious question: who is she trying to reach, whether in her blog or her art? Is the "marketing maven" not part of her audience? I ask because -- whatever the appropriateness or viability or even the tone of his suggestions -- he was there. I doubt he was forced to attend, let alone that he was paid to. Surely he came because he wanted to offer his support and appreciation for art in SL, making a time commitment just for you? Is it too much to expect some dignity in return? Either debate with him, or thank him for coming and leave him to enjoy your work (or not) in whatever way he does. Or maybe, even take him seriously.

Okay, I don't want to go too far off the rails here. As I said, I've had some great discussions with artists in SL, including Miso. And she does have the right to be irritated by things someone says. It may also be the case that incidents like the ones I mentioned at public events are exceptions, have extenuating circumstances, or whatnot; perhaps I'm making too much of them. But my basic point is, if you're only interested in addressing other artists, then I think you're setting your sights too low. The growth and development of art in SL can only occur as a larger collective effort -- or better, a collaborative one. Non-artists are not flies in the ointment. As soon as you put your work out there for a wider audience, one way or another we're part of your future.

Ballet Pixelle's "Avatara"

I attended Ballet Pixelle's show "Avatara" last night. I hadn't been to one of their performances in well over a year. The shows I saw then were essentially in the classical ballet mode, making little use of SL's possibilities. Interesting, but nothing I'd write home about. "Avatara," in contrast, exploits SL capabilities to the extent that it fully enters the realm of the "not possible in real life," joining the company of the ZeroG SkyDancers. (And without harkening to the movie "Avatar," much to my relief.)

Regrettably I didn't have the presence of mind to take photos until well into this short performance (under 30 minutes), and the only worthwhile one I took is from the curtain call. But in it you can see representatives of two different sets of alien creatures, one silvery and somewhat insect-like, the other a simple orange sphere on a tall cone. Although objects like the orange aliens don't exactly have the greatest dance moves, along with the silvery aliens they demonstrate that in SL, dancers don't have to be human or even humanoid. (That said, Ballet Pixelle made damn sure we recognized some of the silver aliens as female. Aren't there enough "not possible in real life" breasts in SL?) Nor do their bodies have to be stable: large caterpillar transform into people, who then transform into butterflies. And gravity need not rule ballet either, as dancers occasionally flipped upside down.

I don't know if Ballet Pixelle has been doing this sort of work all along or has progressed toward it, but it's good to see and I hope they keep at it.

Bryn Oh's identity discovered!

I'm back from my travels. While I was in Europe I visited two or three scads of museums, seeing art by Beuys and Bacon and Beckmann and other Bs, and I came across some works that unveiled a closely held secret: Bryn Oh's true identity. I struggled for a couple of weeks deciding whether to release such sensitive information, because the ethical issues involved are complicated and tricky; but finally, I decided that the public's right to know trumps all other considerations. I am proud and excited to be the one to reveal that Bryn Oh is, in fact, Salvador Dali! Well, to be precise, Dali 2.0.

The first clear sign that Bryn Oh is actually Salvador Dali is the two artists' use of insect imagery. Dali was famous for his ants, often seen crawling out of a hand, covering a mouth, swarming on top of a watch, and so forth. Bryn Oh's insect obsession is with the ants' winged analogue, bees. (Of course, both of them have the occasional grasshopper and other bugs.) Dali, however, is scarcely foreign to bees -- indeed, one of his most famous works is "Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening." This painting clearly foreshadowed Dali 1.0's successor 2.0, Bryn Oh.

Bryn has said that "The stories I tell on Immersiva are my own hopes, dreams and fears hidden behind the mask of robots." Dali could well have said the same (aside from the robots of course). His pictures too tell stories, and he described them as "hand-painted dream photographs." As a surrealist he was committed to exploring what was hidden behind the mask of his own face, his own person. Dali 2.0 does that and (as subsequent versions are supposed to do) she also does more. She reflects modern Western society through the archetypical symbols of its own dreams and aspirations -- TVs and shopping carts!

The introspection necessary for dream exploration can of course lead to a bit of narcissism. Dali painted a meditation on this fact in "The Metamorphosis of Narcissus." In it, self-reflection appears as a transformational echo of Narcissus's body by a hand holding an egg. In Bryn Oh's self-reflection, she transforms herself into a robot, in a pose almost identical to Narcissus's. More proof that the two artists are really the one and the same!

Dali's "The Metamorphosis of Narcissus"

The Bryn "Oh-bot" on Island One

One of Dali's signature images is the human body with drawers opening out of it. Bryn Oh employs the same motif in the form of robots whose faces or bodies open up at a touch. The two artists share a propensity for lonely, arid landscapes; and even more, they share a pensive tone bordering on morbidness. Also they both seem to like things on long, skinny legs or crutches, which I already noted in my discussion of her Island Three, "no colour." Dali himself wasn't particularly tall and Bryn Oh is a shrimp, so there may be some compensatory stuff going on, but she does have kinda skinny legs and he probably did too.

The last, indeed conclusive bit of evidence is Dali's famously upturned mustache. Bryn Oh, being female, doesn't have a mustache. Or not much of one, anyway. But she does have hair, or something reminiscent of hair, and once one knows what to look for, it becomes blindingly obvious that the horns of her headdress are the 2.0 upgrade of the 1.0 mustache. (Literally up in this case.) The similarity of their eyes is astounding.

One may surmise that Dali's tiger-striped cat has been supplanted by the Rabbicorn.  Or possibly it's the beta version of Dali 2.0.  Bryn Oh is a bit neko after all.

However, it remains to be seen whether Bryn Oh will make a movie with Disney, as Dali had done.  The fact that Walt has been dead since 1966 is completely irrelevant: art is eternal.  Personally, I expect an announcement any day now.

A revelation from abroad

Okay, so at the moment I'm in Vienna, where I spent the entire day tromping around a couple of large art museums.  Cuz, y'know, Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Oskar Kokoschka, etc etc.  One of the museums, the Albertina, has a section which develops more or less chronologically from the Impressionists to the early 21st century.  Now, it's important to realize that the entire time I've been in Europe, it's been in a heat wave, with temperatures reaching 39°C/102°F, and there's no air conditioning in my Vienna hotel (last night they did finally give me a fan).  On top of that I've got a cold.  And on top of that, after six or seven hours standing and walking, my feet were in agony, to the point that by the time I reached the Russian Futurists, Picasso, and Max Ernst, I was practically rushing past.  (Well, I paused for Ernst.)  In this addled state I got to the end, and stopped short.  I looked around, confused.  Where was the immersive art?  Where were the self-transforming pieces?  Where were the reactive works?  I'm not making this up, for a moment I really expected to find some.  As though my brain had walked into an SL gallery.  Whence my revelation:

SL artists, you've seriously messed with my head.