Visual Text: concrete poetry, hyperfiction and the

future of the narrative form.

Rebecca Sharp, Peter McKinney and Seamus Ross

July 2003

Humanities Advanced Technology and Information Institute (HATII),

University of Glasgow,
Scotland.
P.McKinney@hatii.arts.gla.ac.uk

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I:

Concrete poetry:
1.1 Elements of the form space, structure and the role of the reader
1.2 Anticipating hypertext

II:

Contemporary ventures in hypertext fiction:

2.1 Origins and ideology
2.2 Some issues in the field
2.3 Case studies

III:

Stream 42 and The Thirst for Closure: Accounts of collaborative hypertext

creation.

Conclusion

Bibliography

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I: Concrete poetry

In 1953, the Swiss poet Eugen Gomringer published a collection of his works, each only one
word in length. He referred to them as constellations and insisted that it was the positioning
of the word on the page that was of more importance than the meaning of the word itself. In
that same year, in Sweden, Oyvind Fahlstrom wrote a Concrete Poetry Manifesto, however
he apparently had no knowledge of Gomringers work. Simultaneously and similarly oblivious
to the new style emerging in Europe, a group of Brazilian poets, the Noigrandres, were
experimenting with poetry as a visual medium, using the object form of the ideogram and
would later name this style Poesia Concreta. It was a time of great co-incidence, given the
contemporaneous experiments with structure and form in the fields of music and painting, and
the recurring use of the word concrete. More than that, however, it signalled a global desire
to progress beyond traditional linear representation and start manipulating the very
substances out of which art is made.

1.1
This timely and apparently universal need for the new form may well have inspired such
endeavours, yet the concept at the heart of it all, the word as visual image, was far from new.
In the early 20th century, Guillaume Apollinaire constructed complex visual collages from
letters, words and phrases in Calligrammes, exploring spatial relationships and offering
multiple non-linear readings of the text. Similarly at that time, the Futurists, Dadaists and
Cubists emphasised semiotics and materiality. Earlier still, the optical poems of the Baroque
period made visual forms, such as a labyrinth, from lines of text. [image 1] An example from
1637 presents an early form of interactive writing. A wedding poem, whose lines take the
form of a drinking goblet requires the reader to turn either the paper or their head around in
order to follow the text, the resultant dizzy feeling recalling the sensation of having drunk a
goblet of wine.

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In concrete poetry, however, rather than the visual element being illustrative or incidental, the
physicality of language instructs and indeed constitutes the structural form. Linearity was
rejected in favour of just about anything else. Poets would actively communicate the space
between words and letters, manipulate typography, and introduce design elements borrowed
from popular culture. Concrete poetry by necessity involves a reduction of language.
Emotions and ideas are not the physical materials here and so it is the language itself that is
dismantled in terms of form, design and function. Significant also was the new relation to
space; no longer an impermeable yet impotent backdrop against which text must rigidly stand,
the new writing broke out and into the areas all around the text, allowing the eye to form
patterns of its own and the mind to make new, independent inferences. In so undermining the
security between word and page, concrete poetry also dislocated word from meaning and
furthermore, destabilised the traditional relationship between the text and the reader.

This then heralds one of the most significant features of the style: in order for meaning to be
communicated, the reader must actively engage in the text; deciphering its layout and
typography, interpreting its shapes and spaces, viewing the work as an object and thereby
playing an active role in its creation. Two works by Claus Bremer, from 1963 and 1964,
exemplify this sense of liberation and empowerment. [Image 3] In the first, the phrase keep
in line is repeatedly printed, one line directly under another in identical typeface. The words
form a dense column from the top to the bottom of the page, conceivably continuing beyond
our view, ad infinitum. Bremer commented that, This kind of organisation provokes an urge
for freedom and reason. This text, as do all of my engaged texts, sets the reader free in the
realm of his own possibilities.1 [Image 4] The second piece shows the line of text at first
illegibly typed word over word. With each line of the poem, the words are systematically
separated and strung out until the phrase is legible, before the process is reversed and the
words consume themselves again. The phrase, participate in a process rather than confront
results, communicates on at least two levels. Firstly, it commands the reader to participate in
both the literal unravelling of the physical text as well as the interpretation of meaning, rather
than passively view the text as it is presented, be it legibly or illegibly, as a finite form.

In Williams, Emmett (ed.), An Anthology of Concrete Poetry (New York, 1967), p43.

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Secondly, this work also challenges the role of the poem itself, whether its physicality and
therefore meaning should be predetermined and static or else a dynamic, procedural element.

1.2
The discoveries made by this genre were at once progressive and contingent on past
experiments, with several sub-genres such as kinetic, spatialist, instamatic and code poetry
emerging from within. To trace these developments toward the present day is one road into
the crux of the issues surrounding current endeavours in digital technology. Explorations in
typography, colour, movement, topography and interaction in print form would inevitably
become limited by the frame of the page. Issues regarding narrative form and indeed within
the wider cultural climate grew over time to demand a new forum and an even more
progressive form of expression.

Emmett Williams wrote of concrete poetry, It was born of the times, as a way of knowing
and saying something about the world now, with the techniques and insights of now.2 The
same is true of narratives in the digital realm. However, not content with mere manipulation
of the linguistic and graphic qualities of words, in digital media time itself becomes a
malleable object, with animation and interaction as actual rather than implied properties.
Reader interaction too becomes a more literal aspect of works in new media; it would seem
that the Barthesian writerly reader has found a new home. We have seen how textual
structure and syntax can be translated and made the materials for surface play in print form.
As technologies develop, so too does a society adjust its perspective on itself. New tools
enable new insights and challenge the user and bystander alike to consider how they might
be applied. So what are the techniques and insights of now, and how are they manifested in
our narratives?

Williams, Emmett (ed.): An Anthology of Concrete Poetry, (New York, 1967), p.vi.

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II:

Hypertext Fiction

In a culture disembodied by pervasive technological mediation in the form of the Internet,

television, mobile communication devices, games consoles, PCs, even treadmills and
microwaves, it is little wonder that former modes of communication and expression may come
under review. New technologies enable faster, more persistent dissemination of information
and ideologies. Once the shock of the new has subsided, these technologies come to be
absorbed by a culture: accepted and appropriated, but rarely questioned or adapted for usage
beyond that prescribed by the manufacturer. It has traditionally befallen artists in all media to
examine and interpret cultural phenomena, in an attempt to reassess accepted constructs,
explore and evaluate the newest inventions and to create works of frequently contentious
projection. Just as members of the avant-garde experimented with form in the last century,
contemporary artists and writers are doing the same, the difference being; they now have new
tools at hand.

2.1
The invention of the printing press and the subsequent democratisation of information
provoked that culture to modify its views of readership and integrity of information, even
destabilising along the way the role of religion in society. When photography was invented, it
prompted visual artists to contemplate the purpose and parameters of their craft, while society
at large was confronted with questions of what it wanted or expected its art to do. The birth of
motion picture at the end of the 19th century brought further issues into the fray now that
pictures could move and later, have sound, the potential for narrative creation expanded
momentously and would bequeath to later generations, dilemmas of what the real world is like
after one has seen it reflected on the screen.

Advances in new technology and the trend towards non-linearity in various narrative forms
have occurred in tandem during postmodern times. As previously illustrated, the departure
from linearity was not the revolution it might have seemed, however, with each new
technological development, writers have been able to expand their perspectives and delve

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deeper into the issues at play. Thus, the multiform story with its multiple plotlines and
intertextual connections can be seen to reflect the fragmentation of personal identity in
postmodern culture. Interwoven narrative threads simultaneously suggest the empowerment
of the reader through his/her navigation of this network of meaning, and the anxiety
associated with this level of choice: the ultimate postmodern paradox.

2.2
In hypertext specifically and multiform narratives generally, the reader becomes an active
participant in the process. In clicking one link in preference over another be it a systematic or
arbitrary action, the reader dictates the shape of the story. Numerous possible readings are
concealed within the nodal network, at all times implied and alive in the mind of the reader,
conspicuous in their absence. This is one way in which so-called empty space comes to life
in hypertext and therefore assumes physicality. As soon as the reader conceives of the
textual plane as existing in three dimensions of space and time, then the choices s/he makes
in the course of the narrative contain as many, indeed, infinitely more vacancies than they do
actual narrative presence. For many this is an exhilarating feature of the form, creating a
realm in which the reader is free to imagine and leave his/her own imprint on the text. For yet
others it is a source of infinite frustration and more significantly, prevents the narrative from
ever actually being in one place at a time, at one time in a place, both literally on the screen
and figuratively in the mind of the reader.

The changing role of the reader is well documented but also crucial to consider is what fate
awaits the author of the new writing. Must s/he assume a lesser role, as mere facilitator of
the readers creative aspirations? What craft is there to the new form, if each work created is
forever pending, deferred, awaiting completion by foreign and multiple hands in order to
become fulfilled and recognised as a work of art? The writer in this case is caught in limbo
to be regarded at best as a pioneer, daring and imaginative yet prone to misadventure, at
worst an enthusiastic crank, yet in neither scenario ever able to wholeheartedly announce, I
wrote this. Rather than using the title of author, we could perhaps adopt the term of
hypertext initiator. Anja Rau suggests that the letter w should prefix the word reader in

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order to express the fusion of roles within the new environment3. Drawing a musical analogy,
hyperfiction writer Stuart Moulthrop remarks that, A craftsman may invent an instrument but
only the players discover it.4 Another solution is to regard the initators of hypertext as
software artists who write original code for original programs, so taking the form one step
further towards self-determination and away from inapt comparisons to traditional print media.

Semiotics and deconstructionist theory have taught us that all beings and objects constitute
and are constituted of signs within a vast network of signs, each reliant on the others to gain
inferred validation, devoid of meaning beyond this complex construct. What right then does
any person have to claim authorship of a text, when its creation is by implication contingent
on so much more than just one persons imagination? Hypertext is a literal manifestation of
this concern, being as it is structurally malleable, comprised of the signs and symbols of a
culture so steeped in visual images and of a readership so well versed in the machinations of
that culture.

The visual nature of hypertext has led detractors to accuse it of signifying a reduction of
language to mere surface spectacle. In order to refute such criticism, hypertext must
progress from being a purely additive form and should do more than evoke prior media of
print and photography. The emphasis would be placed on the use of graphics, sound,
animation, spatiality and interaction to best reflect the ability of hypertext to connect ideas and
create analogies, so corresponding with the patterns at play in the human mind. Hypertext
could then be seen more clearly for what it is: a departure rather than a denial of language.

Rau, Anja: Wreaders Digest How to Appreciate Hyperfiction (December 2000). Journal of
Digital Information, Volume 1, issue 7. Found at: http://jodi.ecs.soton.ac.uk/Articles/v01/i07/Rau/
4
http://iat.ubalt.edu/moulthrop/hypertexts/pax/about.htm

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2.3
The principal publisher of hypertext fictions is Massachusetts-based Eastgate Systems5,
responsible for the development of the Storyspace writing package. Eastgate describes the
program as the tool of choice for serious hypertext writers and places particular emphasis on
its capacity for writing, linking and organising, as differentiated from pure visual
presentation6. It is necessary to make this distinction it would seem, in order to lend some
authority to hyperfictions, avoiding collusion with such web-based electronic material that
through its visual nature and propagation is considered insubstantial.

With only occasional deviation, all the works available for free view in Eastgates online
Reading Room7 persist in presenting text largely in a linear format. [Image] For example,
Charmin Cleary by Edward Falco. Images, colour and other typographic and design
elements exist mainly as additives, serving a purely decorative purpose. Yet observing each
page as an image in itself yields scant reward. The sparse text on uniformly white
background could be seen as visually uninspiring or else liberating. The highlighted links
appear as diamonds in the rough, only to lead the reader to an apparently identical page; the
eye is drawn to the hyperlinks by default and often to the detriment of the surrounding text. In
general, such simplicity of design seems to invite the scanning eye, to read swiftly and with
little consideration. Were they published in a bound volume, these pieces could be
appreciated as finely crafted and thoughtful works of fiction, however, within their given
context, they satisfy neither hypertext nor print enthusiast. In attempting to straddle the two
media, this type of hypertext could leave both parties wondering what all the fuss was about.

[image] Pax by Stuart Moulthrop8 seems to make further use of the medium. Animated,
interactive and less reliant on linear text for navigational purposes, it is more a manifestation
of the concepts at play within the genre. Figures fall through the space on-screen and can be
suspended mid-air by moving of the cursor over the image. When a halted figure is clicked
on, text appears to the right of the screen, different text for each character and different
5

www.eastgate.com
http://www.eastgate.com/storyspace/StoryspaceOV.html
7
http://www.eastgate.com/ReadingRoom.html
8
http://iat.ubalt.edu/moulthrop/hypertexts/pax/
6

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again with multiple readings of the same character as they fall in succession through the
screen space. Time is an important element in this piece, as with each click, the time
displayed at various points in the space progresses forward by several minutes. The total
possible duration is twelve hours. This allows the reader to control the duration of the
narrative experience: by making fewer choices and simply allowing the animation to occur
uninterrupted, the session will last longer than if the reader literally clicks the time away.
While the text is presented in linear form, the origination of that text comes from choices
made by the reader/player from within a series of animated visual images. Once complete at
the end of a session, the text itself appears more as a script than as prose, comprised of
fragments of speech or thought, disjointed and apparently incongruous. Meaning is inferred
by the reader/player as a result of active choices made within the construct of the piece. The
visual play of figures falling through space and the awareness of the passage of time create a
sense of foreboding. Moulthrop makes available a systematic mode of experience as well as
encouraging the random.

At the heart of the narrative is an apocalyptic event, to which specific reference is never
made, but rather is communicated by means of the characters reactions. This echoes the
violence-hub format popular in hyperfiction, in which various narrative threads radiate from a
single violent incident. The characters in Pax, unrelated or else related only through shared
experience, provide reflections on the event, thereby placing the emphasis of the piece not on
the central occurrence but on the periphery. Being a decentralised narrative form, hypertext
lends itself particularly well to this focus on margins and ramification.

Established writers such as Michael Joyce successfully combine textual and visual elements,
neither at the expense of the other, while authors working with Flash media aim for a total
rejection of text. The fears associated with hypertext as a narrative form are as well
documented as the possible rewards, yet the majority of discussion has thus far been limited
to relatively isolated academic or artistic circles. Any new writing must have a readership. It
is therefore crucial to consider who this readership might be, their desires and expectations,
and what role they will play in the future development of this and any narrative form.

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III: Stream 42 and A Thirst for Closure

As part of the undergraduate honours module, Investigating Cyberspace, led by the

Humanities Advances Technology & Information Institute at the University of Glasgow,
students are introduced to hypertext as a narrative form and have the chance to
collaboratively create a work of hyperfiction. The class hypertext project has been a feature
of the course for the past two years, resulting in the creation of the pieces Stream 42 in 2002
and A Thirst for Closure in 2003. In both cases, the participating students had little or no prior
knowledge of the genre and so the process necessarily began with a thorough examination of
underlying theories, as well as experiencing works of hyperfiction already in existence.

With the exception of some nostalgia for tactile print media, the students were mostly
enthusiastic and at least curious about a new narrative form. However, when presented with
hyperfictions to read and explore, the general consensus was that they are conceptually
interesting, yet unsatisfying in terms of reader-experience. As the title of the 2003 piece
suggests, the lack of closure to hypertext narratives presents a serious obstacle in the mind of
most readers. Even multiform stories in print form are delineated by page sequence and the
fact that the book, as a physical object, ends at the back cover. The same is true of film
when the lights come up in the cinema, the audience stands and leaves. It would seem that
so long as a multiform story is contained by its medium, it remains accessible. However,
since hypertext as a medium is in a state of flux, any such demarcation remains elusive. This
disillusionment is surely a product of bringing linear expectations into a medium that attempts
to thwart linearity at every turn. The students were therefore encouraged to cast their
preconceptions aside, and attempt instead to glean some manner of meaning and
appreciation from the process of interaction.

Some reported that the visual and interactive aspects were distracting, but were nonetheless
able to appreciate the authors intentions. Worthy of note is the fact that there was little
discussion about the actual content of the works. The majority of the students were

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preoccupied with navigating the structure and exploring the seemingly infinite plotlines. They
were so dazzled by technical effect and the novelty of the form that such features as theme,
imagery and characterisation became secondary concerns. In order to progress beyond this
stage, it was necessary for the students to experience hypertext from a different perspective,
in creating their own narratives.

Due to time constraints, we provided the students in both years with a basic structure around
which to form their work. This structure was designed to allow maximum flexibility and scope
for collaboration, while keeping distractions to a minimum. During the week preceding the
final class, twice a day once at 12 noon, again at 6pm, the students were instructed to make
note of three things: an object they could see, a sound they could hear and an action or event
that occurred. For every day, each student would therefore have six text bubbles,
accumulating forty-two in the course of seven days. The class would then gather all their
texts together and decide methods for selection, organisation and presentation.

[Image] Stream 42 has ten authors. Once the final 42 texts were collected, the students
chose not to impose an editorial process, but rather focus on their structural arrangement.
They experienced a dilemma over the necessity to create some sense of structure and the
desire to escape hierarchy. This was resolved by the fact that although the fragments are
ordered in terms of, for example, Tuesday 12noon object, the connections between the
items are arbitrary beyond the structure, without author-imposed meaning. The starter page
shows a series of raindrops, each representing a text. On each subsequent page, this image
is repeated, allowing the reader to return to the main menu or else continue onward.

[image] A Thirst for Closure also has ten authors. This group, however, were selective of the
text fragments they included in the piece. This was not an attempt to create a coherent final
text, but rather they simply chose the excerpts that were most appealing in isolation. They
too organised the texts using the structure of day/time/sound, object, or event. A line of stars
along the foot of every page offers linkage to all the other texts. In this piece, however, there
are hyperlinked words within the passages of text, positioned deliberately by the authors to

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connect to a similarly themed passage. In this way, the students have created meaning
within the structure and network of otherwise arbitrary choices, allowing the reader to
recognise patterns within the narrative. Stream 42 is not meaningless by comparison, but
rather treats the act of interpretation as an even less prescriptive process.

Conclusion

The hypertext projects in the Investigating Cyberspace course were invaluable in bringing so
many of the issues surrounding hypertext fiction to life. It is symptomatic of hypertext fiction
that writers and theorists in the genre are prone to working in relative isolation. Therefore,
only in engaging with the readers and indeed future writers can a broader understanding
arise. The experience of designing and teaching the hypertext class has allowed us to see
more clearly the solutions to many problems.

Firstly, it is useful to provide a context for the new fiction by examining narratives in various
media that can be seen to pave the way for hypertext. This could comprise an entire course
in itself, so it is best to target specific elements in turn. For example, concrete poetry is useful
for studying visuality, while multiform narratives beget non-linearity and decentred
perspectives in electronic fiction. An introduction to the cultural theory associated with the
genre is also crucial, however, it was the practical element of the course that in our
experience proved especially beneficial.

When discussing the structure of their collaborative piece, the students continually found
themselves returning to some form of hierarchy, which they were initially trying to avoid. With
further consideration, they realised that a small element of hierarchy is forgivable and often
inevitable, so long as that structure does not solely determine the course of the narrative.
Similarly, their fears of narrative form being emphasised at the expense of content were
allayed as they observed the piece taking shape. It was the process of creating the work and
seeing the end result that enabled the students to recognise the numerous sources of
meaning in a text: that it may not come from the writer, reader, or medium alone. This is not

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an excuse for poor craftsmanship, nor is it a disclaimer for mere experimentation. Rather, it is
the concept that should be at the heart of any study of hypertext fiction; that it is a medium of
interaction and process, best understood when put in practice. Future hypertext projects of
this kind are therefore crucial in exploring the relationships between writer, reader and media,
serving also to establish hypertext fiction as a valuable mode of expression in its own right.

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Bibliography

Print
Bolter, Jay David: Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext and the History of Writing.
(London: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1991).
Cockburn, Ken & Finlay, Alec (Eds.): The Order of Things: An Anthology of Scottish Sound,
Pattern and Concrete Poems. (Edinburgh: Polygon, 2001).
Gaggi, Silvio: From Text to Hypertext: Decentering the Subject in Fiction, Film, the Visual Arts
and Electronic Media. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997).
Joyce, Michael, Of Two Minds: Hypertext Pedagogy and Poetics. (University of Michigan
Press, 1995)
Landow, George P. (Ed.), Hyper/Text/Theory. (John Hopkins University Press, 1994).
Manovich, Lev: The Language of New Media. (Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 2001).
Murray, Janet, H.: Hamlet on the Holodeck: The Future of Narrative in Cyberspace.
(Massachusetts: The MIT Press, 1997).
Williams, Emmett (Ed.): An Anthology of Concrete Poetry. (New York: Something Else Press,
1967).

Web

http://www.eastgate.com/
http://jodi.ecs.soton.ac.uk/

http://www.mothermillennia.org/Carolyn/Carolyn_Guyer_index.html
http://scribble.com/world3/meme1/voices.html
http://www.vispo.com/animisms/

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