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1
Talan Memmott “Beyond Taxonomy: Digital Poetics and the Problem of Reading,” from New Media Poetics, pp. 293-
4
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
regard
to
reading
and
writing
practices.
Instead
of
providing
mere
historical
context
for
a
digital
poetics,
however
relevant
that
might
be
in
isolation,
we
must
consider
the
finer
details
not
only
of
the
social
and
phenomenological
contexts
of
such
a
poetics,
but
also
those
of
the
individual
composite
phenomena
and
their
wider
contexts.
Indeed,
Memmott
recognises
the
usefulness
of
relative
taxonomies
to
the
past;
perhaps
a
major
reason
for
the
frequent
associations
with
print
is
that
hypertext
media
did,
in
many
respects,
still
owe
much
to
the
formats
of
the
page-‐based
narrative,
albeit
with
a
multi-‐linear
immediacy
not
possible
on
the
printed
page.
Though
much
has
been
written
about
this
elsewhere
(and
so
it
is
not
useful
to
go
into
it
in
great
detail
here)2,
this
is
still
an
important
aspect
of
digital
writing,
since,
as
I
will
explain
later,
the
chronological
progression
of
time
as
a
controlling
framework
for
reading
remains
despite
the
cross-‐media,
potentially
multi-‐sensory
elements
of
new
digital
poetries
which
might
be
said
to
form
the
'whole
reading'.
As
I
will
discuss
in
the
second
chapter,
the
construct
of
time
also
offers
a
paradoxical
consistency
/
tension
between
the
experience
of
the
real
world
and
that
of
the
algorithms
in
the
game
which
becomes
analogous
with
the
digital
poem.
[[Delete?]]
With
this
in
mind,
I
will
show
that
kinetic
texts,
media
palimpsests,
diverse
reading
strategies
and
applications
in
feedback
loops
of
production
are
all
traits
of
digital
poetics
which,
while
they
present
unique
opportunities
in
terms
of
digital
media,
may
also
reflect
back
onto
experimental
print
and
hybrid
works.
Instrumental
to
my
arguments
here
will
be
Gilles
Deleuze
and
Felix
Guattari's
rhizome,
a
structure
in
which
any
point
can
connect
to
any
other
(as
opposed
to
a
tree-‐like
structure
that
reaffirms
hierarchical
development
along
linear
planes)
and
which
seeks
alternative
routes
of
transit
when
one
is
broken.
I
will
place
these
discussions
in
dialogue
with
Alexander
Galloway's
remapping
of
the
principles
of
the
rhizome
onto
distribution
theories
of
the
network.
By
examining
the
nature
of
such
a
remapping,
I
will
demonstrate
that
there
is
a
congruence
between
networking
practices
and
the
phenomenology
of
reading
digital
poetry
–cognitive
experiences
in
which
negative
and
'multiple'
readings
form
reading
strategies,
and
in
which
loss,
noise
and
resistance
are
in
fact
positive
creative
forces
enabling
the
erosion
of
boundaries
and
the
production
of
unique
signifying
strategies.
As
part
of
this,
I
will
show
that
a
separation
is
necessary
which
is
analogous
to
Galloway’s
distinction
between
networks
and
their
layers
of
protocol,
in
order
to
show
the
2
Although there are too many works to cite extensively in this essay, early critical works surrounding hypertext include
those of George Landow (such as HYPERTEXT and HYPER/TEXT/THEORY), Espen Aarserth’s discussions of
cybertexts, and Michael Joyce’s writing on hypertext and pedagogy as well as his practice. These, like the works
being produced at around the same period, focus primarily on hypertextual theory in relation to the principles of
print technology and of the reading strategies perpetuated by print. N. Katherine Hayles offers a useful summary of
the historical compartments that have formed in Electronic Literature, stating that
“whereas early works tended to be blocks of text […] later works make much fuller use of the
multimodal capabilities of the Web; while the hypertext link is considered the distinguishing feature of
the earlier works, later works use a wide variety of navigation schemes and interface metaphors[. …]
To avoid the implication that first-generation works are somehow superseded by later aesthetics, it may
be more appropriate to call the early works “classical,” [… and t]he later period might be called
“contemporary” or “postmodern.” (Hayles, Electronic Literature, pp. 6-7)
Like Hayles, my thesis does not seek to undermine the value of such practical and critical works. Instead, the
objective of the thesis is to acknowledge that the evolution and development of technological materials, resources
for the increased capacity and dissemination of information, and the attitudes and strategies employed by those who
receive them, demands a similar redevelopment of critical positioning. The critical theorists mentioned above are
still relevant precisely because their works (despite some being nearly 20 years old) engage with issues fundamental
to digital interaction, even though digital applications have changed drastically during this time.
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
dynamic
between
control
at
the
navigation
level
and
multiplicity
at
the
cognitive
level
in
the
digital
poetry
I
will
be
discussing.
The
discussion
of
Deleuze
and
Guattari's
rhizome,
as
with
the
discussion
of
networked
distribution
methods,
has
found
renewed
discussion
with
the
advent
of
technology-‐based
writing,
particularly
over
the
past
decade.
In
particular,
hypertext
theory
has
employed
theoretical
stances
based
on
the
non-‐linear
nature
of
'multiple
choice'
narrative
strategies
synonymous
with
hypertextual
link-‐
node
connections
between
narrative
strands.
Though
satisfactory
for
the
most
part
in
describing
narratives
which
are
unstable
insofar
as
there
is
no
agreed
'finished
text'
(i.e.
there
is
no
finalised,
definitive
order
of
reading
which
might
be
considered
stable),
the
problem
with
such
discussions
has
been
the
focus
of
their
attention
to
the
strictly
linear
progression
of
narrative
across
time
without
necessarily
asking
what
other
potentialities
of
the
nonlinear
might
exist
in
such
works.
Furthermore,
these
discussions
what
how
such
an
enforcement
of
linearity
might
be
compatible
with
a
non-‐linear
theory.
I
will
begin
by
briefly
outlining
the
portions
of
Deleuze
and
Gauttari
that
are
of
particular
relevance
to
this
chapter.
In
A
Thousand
Plateaus,
Deleuze
and
Guattari
discuss
how
the
book
is
both
objectless
and
subjectless:
All
this,
lines
and
measurable
speeds,
constitutes
an
assemblage.
A
book
is
an
assemblage
of
this
kind,
and
as
such
is
unattributable.
[…]
There
is
no
difference
between
what
a
book
talks
about
and
how
it
is
made.
Therefore
a
book
also
has
no
object.
As
an
assemblage,
a
book
has
only
itself,
in
connection
with
other
assemblages
and
in
relation
to
other
bodies
without
organs.
We
will
never
ask
what
a
book
means,
as
a
signified
or
signifier,
we
will
not
look
for
anything
to
understand
in
it.
We
will
ask
what
it
functions
with,
in
connection
with
what
other
things
it
does
or
does
not
transmit
intensities[.
…]
A
book
exists
only
through
the
outside
and
on
the
outside.3
Instead
of
working
in
terms
of
the
purely
qualitative
to
consider
the
book,
it
must
be
considered
in
terms
of
its
composite,
quantitative
differences
to
others
of
comparable
and
therefore
differential
value.
However,
there
is
a
struggle
between
the
multiple
roots
of
the
“fascicular”
book
and
their
absorption
into
wider
more
abstract
structures:
Most
modern
methods
for
making
series
proliferate
or
a
multiplicity
grow
are
perfectly
valid
in
one
direction,
for
example,
a
linear
direction,
whereas
a
unity
of
totalization
asserts
itself
even
more
firmly
in
another,
circular
or
cyclic,
dimension.
Whenever
a
multiplicity
is
taken
up
in
a
structure,
its
growth
is
offset
by
a
reduction
in
its
laws
of
combination.
Joyce’s
words
[…]
shatter
the
linear
unity
of
the
word,
even
of
language,
only
to
posit
a
cyclic
unity
of
the
sentence,
text,
or
knowledge.4
There
is
a
cyclical
dimension
to
representation
in
the
outside
world
that
subsumes
even
multiple
associations
made
possible
by
multiplicity.
The
above
problem
perhaps
explains
why
many
attempts
to
address
non-‐linear
aspects
of
multimedia
works
have
nonetheless
done
so
in
terms
of
the
conventional
narrative
baseline.
Espen
J.
Aarseth's
essay
“Nonlinearity
and
Literary
theory”
in
Hyper/Text/Theory
is
still
highly
3
Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, ‘A Thousand Plateaus’ in Literary Theory: An Anthology, pp. 514-15
4
Ibid., p. 516
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
relevant
to
digital
discussions,
and
proves
a
decent
starting
point
for
considering
the
truly
non-‐
linear
potentials
of
multi-‐layered,
multimedia
texts.
Aarseth
implies
the
problem
encountered
when
addressing
non-‐linearity
in
hypertexts,
by
distinguishing
between
the
potentials
of
the
hypertext
materials
and
the
actualities
of
its
execution:
It
must
immediately
be
pointed
out
that
[nonlinearity]
refers
only
to
the
physico-‐logical
form
(or
arrangement,
appearance)
of
the
texts,
and
not
to
any
fictional
meaning
or
external
reference
they
might
have.
Thus,
it
is
not
the
plot,
or
the
narrative,
or
any
other
well-‐known
poetic
unit
that
will
be
our
definitive
agency
but
the
shape
or
structure
of
the
text
itself.
A
narrative
may
be
perfectly
nonlinear
(for
example
describing
a
sequence
of
events
in
a
repetitive
or
nonsequential
way)
and
yet
be
represented
in
a
totally
linear
text.5
Although
a
hypertext
might
be
unstable
in
theory,
in
practice
a
hypertextual
reading
is
still
structured
in
linear
progression.
This
problem,
if
it
might
even
be
called
that
(perhaps
it
is
simply
a
limitation)
is
similarly
encountered
the
frequent
use
of
concepts
tied
in
with
Jorge
Luis
Borges'
The
Garden
of
Forking
Paths,
another
understandably
popular
work
used
to
illustrate
hypertext
principles.
This
story
pre-‐empts
perfectly
the
nature
of
choice-‐based
progression
in
hypertextual
literature:
Begin
at
a
starting
point,
make
a
choice
and
go
one
of
several
ways.
From
here,
continue
until
the
choice
format
repeats
itself,
possibly
indefinitely
depending
on
how
the
narrative
is
structured
and
programmed.
Though
creating
a
web-‐like
structure
in
theory,
this
does
not
produce
a
rhizomatic
structure
in
which
the
heterogeneous
potentials
of
the
text
are
realised
or
in
which
any
point
might
link
to
any
other.
It
does,
pointedly,
usually
have
a
beginning
and
relentlessly
progresses
through
linear
chronological
progression.
The
insistence
of
an
objective
(usually
a
narrative
objective)
ensures
that
the
experience
of
reading
such
a
text,
though
multiplicitous
in
potential,
is
nonetheless
insistently
linear.
As
Deleuze
and
Guattari
explain,
the
rhizome
is
quite
different
to
such
an
experience
of
navigating
through
a
reading.
The
rhizome
is
neither
tree-‐like
nor
root-‐like,
but
nebulous
and
always
performing
abstractions
that
allow
for
persistent
reassessment
of
semiotic
linkages.
Deleuze
and
Guattari:
[A]ny
point
of
a
rhizome
can
be
connected
to
anything
other,
and
must
be.
[…
Language]
evolves
by
subterranean
stems
and
flows,
long
river
alleys
or
train
tracks;
it
spreads
like
a
path
of
oil.
[…]
There
is
always
something
genealogical
about
a
tree.
It
is
not
a
method
for
the
people.
A
method
of
the
rhizome
type,
on
the
contrary,
can
analyze
language
only
by
decentering
it
onto
other
dimensions
and
other
registers.
[…]
A
multiplicity
has
[…]
only
determinations,
magnitudes,
and
dimensions
that
cannot
increase
in
number
without
the
multiplicity
changing
in
nature[.]6
Mackenzie
Wark:
The
politics
of
expression
outside
the
state
is
always
temporary,
always
becoming
something
other.
It
can
never
claim
to
be
true
to
itself.
Any
stateless
expression
may
yet
be
captured
by
the
authorized
police
of
representation,
assigned
a
value,
and
made
subject
to
scarcity,
and
to
commodification.
This
is
the
fate
of
any
and
every
hack
that
comes
to
be
valued
as
useful.7
I
will
focus
on
the
social
and
aesthetic
implications
of
Wark’s
writings,
and
specifically
of
the
hack,
in
the
next
chapter.
For
now,
it
will
suffice
to
consider
the
hack,
the
moment
of
abstraction,
as
a
5
Espen J. Aarseth, ‘Nonlinearity and Literary Theory’ in HYPER/TEXT/THEORY, p. 52
6
Deleuze and Guattari, in Literary Theory, p. 517
7
Mackenzie Wark, A Hacker Manifesto, [224]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
moment
of
radical
transformative
potential.
If
society’s
semiotics
are
eventually
one
step
ahead
of
the
gestures
or
actions
that
might
threaten
to
exceed
their
ability
to
contain
them
through
representation,
the
rhizome’s
topology
hints
at
the
potential
to
resist
being
subsumed
by
the
“unity
of
totalization,”8
if
only
temporarily;
indeed
it
hints
at
enacting
the
paradoxes
of
perpetual
temporariness,
constant
shifting,
repeated
variation
and
rigid
adaptability;
ways
of
continually
resisting
reduction
by
breaking
off
into
expansion.
Where
the
two
perspectives
of
multilinear
narratives
above
join
is
in
the
concept
of
the
story
as
still
being
told
in
some
form
or
other,
from
one
point
to
another.
However,
if
we
place
the
shift
on
the
potentials
of
data
available,
we
can
separate
such
data
from
fixed
semiotic
relational
dependencies,
approaching
the
data
in
a
topological
sense
in
which
any
one
piece
of
data
may
interact
with
any
other.
Though
dependent
on
material
form
for
execution,
information
can
be
quantified
in
consistent
binary
terms
and
thus
remapped
onto
other
data
regardless
of
qualitative
differences
which
the
rendering
of
such
data
might
produce.
This
mapping
allows
us
to
see
that
data
can
at
least
be
arranged
in
terms
of
potentials
in
a
cyclical,
nebulous,
and
crucially
fashion.
Most
importantly,
when
related
back
to
the
organising
structure
of
time
directing
the
unfolding
of
the
text,
the
text
can
be
designed
to
be
always
in
the
middle,
never
at
a
starting
or
finishing
point.
Aarseth
relates
an
anecdote
of
the
experience
of
watching
a
botched
cinematic
setup
to
relate
how
such
potentialities
are
integral
to
textual
materials
which
must
be
executed
rather
than
being
merely
one
finalised
stable
product:
[[Typo
for
Boorman
below]]
On
Saturday,
February
the
7th,
1987,
I
saw
John
Boorman’s
Zardoz
(1974)
at
the
Bergen
Film
Club.
Or
did
I?
As
it
happened,
somehow
the
reels
got
mixed
up
and
were
projected
in
the
sequence
1,
2,
4,
3,
5.
[…]
When
the
fifth
reel
came
on,
however,
I
slowly
started
to
suspect
that
this
rather
crude
montage
technique
was
neither
Bootman
nor
his
film
company’s
doing,
but
most
likely
a
mistake
in
“reel
time.”
By
then
the
damage
was
done,
and
I
had
had
the
confusing
privilege
of
being
lost
in
the
materiality
of
the
film
[…]
But
was
it
a
new
film?
I
am
tempted
to
answer,
no.
Not
because
I
feel
that
a
film
(or
any
other
artistic
“work”)
has
to
be
the
intended
and
consecutive
design
of
a
conscious,
creative
operator,
but
because
both
the
original
and
the
heretical
sequences
are
based
on
the
same
material
potential.9
(Final
italics
mine)
According
to
Aarseth,
the
film
sequence
he
watched
still
constituted
the
film
Zardoz,
by
virtue
of
the
two
sequences
(intended
original
and
mistakenly
reordered)
being
“based
on
the
same
material
potential.”
From
this
perspective,
the
data
potentials
latent
in
the
composite
materials
of
the
work
might
be
said
to
constitute
the
'text
proper'
–
the
philological
sense
of
the
original
work,
if
such
a
term
can
be
stretched
that
far
–
with
any
iteration
being
representative
of
the
potentials
of
those
textual
materials.
Importantly,
the
data,
which
could
include
the
semantic
textual
content,
auditory
elements,
and
any
number
of
varying
applied
media,
can
take
any
form
and
any
structure
of
potential.
It
is
in
sequencing
that
the
order
is
restored.
Perhaps
the
tension
to
which
Aarseth
is
alluding
therefore
is
one
in
which
hypertext
materials,
be
they
film
canisters
or
point-‐
and-‐click
lexia,
negotiate
between
of
multiplicity
of
material
form
in
potential
(the
“fascicular
root”10
and
linearity
of
form
across
time
(the
realized
reading).
This
tension
requires
a
shift
in
what
is
considered
‘the
text’
in
the
first
place,
and
sets
up
new
points
from
which
to
consider
a
text
that
8
Deleuze and Guattari, in Literary Theory, p. 516
9
Ibid., pp. 56-7
10
Deleuze and Guattari, in Literary Theory, p. 515
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
might
break
out
from
such
dualisms
and
into
some
potentially
rhizomatic
territory.
Alexander
Galloway's
Protocol
presents
an
indispensable
framework
through
which
to
contextualise
the
above
(in
a
textual
sense)
with
broader
network
theory.
In
“Physical
Media”
Galloway
outlines
3
forms
of
network
structure,
each
of
which
achieve
differing
outcomes
for
the
information
they
process.
The
first
is
the
centralized
network,
which
Galloway
describes
as
a
clearly
definable
chain
of
nodes:
Centralized
networks
are
hierarchical.
They
operate
with
a
single
authoritative
hub.
Each
radial
node,
or
branch
of
the
hierarchy,
is
subordinate
to
the
central
hub.
All
activity
travels
from
center
to
periphery.
No
peripheral
node
is
connected
to
any
other
node.
Centralized
networks
may
have
more
than
one
branch
extending
out
from
the
center,
but
at
each
level
of
the
hierarchy
power
is
wielded
by
the
top
over
the
bottom.11
The
structure
of
a
‘regular’
poem
or
story
might
be
described
in
terms
of
such
a
network
which
is
founded
on
clear
boundaries
of
progression
projected
onto
the
receiver
(reader).
Though
engaged
with
the
text
through
the
act
of
reading,
processing
and
interpreting
the
text,
the
reader
is
passive
from
the
perspective
of
interaction
that
might
result
in
the
transformation
of
the
text,
its
outcomes
or
its
meanings.
[[I
think
there
is
a
useful
Hejinian
quote
here
but
I
need
to
find
it
to
know
for
sure
whether
it’s
useful
to
insert
here]]
Modernist
and
postmodern
poetries
have
made
use
of
elements
of
ambiguity
in
their
texts
or
performances
as
ways
of
breaking
down
prescribed
boundaries
of
author
and
reader,
and
to
empower
the
reader
with
abilities
to
create
outcomes
from
the
multiplicities
of
meaning
that
such
ambiguities
afford.
[[Expand
the
following]]
The
‘death
of
the
author’
–
the
attempted
removal
of
authorial
ego
in
the
generation
of
a
text
–
has
added
an
additional
dimension
to
this
balancing
of
power,
for
example
through
chance
and
procedural
works.
[[Quote
Barthes
here,
from
Image,
Music,
Text,
p.
147]]
However,
the
authoritative
text
is
clear
about
its
authorial
/
readership
boundaries,
and
the
experience
of
reading
such
a
text
is
situated
within
these
reinforcements.
[[NEEDS
WORK]]
From
a
starting
point,
several
main
plots
may
stem
out.
In
this
simplistic
network,
there
is
a
clear
and
reinforced
sense
of
hierarchy
–
a
master
narrative,
say,
which
governs
several
dependent
sub-‐narratives.
The
next
network
described
by
Galloway
is
the
decentralised
network,
which
is
a
multiplication
of
the
centralized
network
[…]
In
a
decentralized
network,
instead
of
one
hub
there
are
many
hubs,
each
with
its
own
array
of
dependent
nodes.
While
several
hubs
exist,
each
with
its
own
domain,
no
single
zenith
point
exercises
control
over
all
others.12
Galloway's
decentralized
network
is
what
one
might
ascribe
to
hypertext
narratives
or
poems,
whose
unfolding
reading
strategies
form
tree
like
(and
therefore
still
not
rhizomatic)
structures
–
the
proliferation
of
choices
from
a
starting
point.
Once
the
reader
has
made
a
choice
from
a
hub,
s/he
will
eventually
encounter
another
hub
whose
role
(way
of
functioning)
is
identical
to
the
previous
one,
regardless
of
whether
or
not
the
semantic
choices
are
the
same
or
share
some
or
all
nodes
to
other
hubs.
The
decentralized
network
is
worth
discussing
in
more
detail
before
moving
on
to
Galloway's
discussion
of
the
distributed
network,
since
the
decentralized
network,
though
dealing
with
linear
reading
progressions,
nonetheless
highlights
crucial
aspects
of
multi-‐linearity
and
the
subversion
of
a
goal-‐oriented
strategy
synonymous
with
traditional
narratives
and
poetry.
11
Alexander Galloway, ‘Physical Media’ in Protocol, p. 30
12
Ibid., p. 31
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
Furthermore,
such
subversions
of
linearity
point
to
further
potential
tensions
with
chronology
and
finality.
The
distributed
network
has
the
ability
to
accentuate
these
tensions
by
foregrounding
the
tensions
between
the
forward
motion
of
time
itself,
and
the
order
of
inter-‐dependent
revelation
revealed
through
persistent
multidirectional
associations
at
specific
points
in
time.
This
temporal
interplay
relies
on
compounding
information
whose
value
is
determined
by
order
through
time.
A
useful
example
of
these
principles
can
be
found
in
Geoff
Ryman's
hypertext
work
253.13
This
text
follows
the
structural
metaphor
of
a
London
Underground
train,
a
structure
relating
directly
to
the
context
of
the
mini-‐narratives
the
piece
reveals.
In
253,
each
character
occupying
a
seat
has
3
types
of
information
pertaining
to
them:
Outward
appearance
:
does
this
seem
to
be
someone
you
would
like
to
read
about?
Inside
information
:
sadly,
people
are
not
always
what
they
seem.
What
they
are
doing
or
thinking
:
many
passengers
are
doing
or
thinking
interesting
things.
Many
are
not.
14
Each
carriage
houses
its
own
narrative,
formed
by
the
various
interactions
between
characters
based
on
these
3
types
of
information,
in
addition
to
the
actions
and
responses
of
certain
characters.
In
a
complex
web
of
constructivist
information-‐building,
information
types
feed
into
and
off
each
other,
assumptions
begetting
revelations,
altercations
producing
reactive
thinking,
actions,
facial
expressions
and
reactions
being
interpreted
from
multiple
physical
and
perceptual
angles.
If
the
physical
act
of
reading
through
such
a
work
is
linear,
it
is
only
as
a
control
structure
for
the
non-‐linear
structures
of
both
of
these
nebulous
information
types,
and
the
ways
in
which
one
reveals
them.
Or,
more
specifically,
reference
is
subsumed
by
the
authority
of
semiotics,
across
time,
limiting
potential
to
one
manifest
outcome.
Here,
crucially,
the
unfolding
of
time
as
a
limiting
factor
is
fundamental
to
the
multiplicity
of
the
textual
material
potential.
[[Work
with
a
more
detailed
example
here]]
The
order
in
which
this
information
is
processed
by
the
outside
reader
is
an
integral
part
of
how
the
information
itself
is
interpreted.
As
we
uncover
information,
it
may
take
the
form
of
assumptions
by
others
(“Passenger
4,
the
grinning
werewolf,
is
plainly
a
recipient
of
Care
in
the
Community”15),
narrative
statements
that
clarify
the
attributes
of
a
character,
or
the
actions
of
a
particular
character
in
a
given
situation
(“A
fight!”16).
How
we
process
the
information
being
uncovered
is
dictated
from
within
the
context
of
the
information
we
already
possess
as
well
as
that
which
we
anticipate
discovering
in
the
future.
What
makes
253
a
more
rigorous
exploration
of
such
narrative
devices
is
that
the
order
in
which
this
information
can
be
discovered
(and
indeed
whether
the
same
information
is
uncovered
at
all)
is
open
to
truly
multilinear
possibility.
The
binding
in
time
of
this
digital
narrative
is
essential
to
these
multiple
realisations,
rather
than
being
merely
an
unfortunate
by-‐product.
These
structural
specificities
of
253
distinguish
it
from
many
other
hypertext
novels,
offering
complex
decentralised
approaches
not
only
in
terms
of
the
reading
structure
but
in
terms
of
the
text’s
material
potential.
13
Geoff Ryman, ‘253’ <http://www.ryman-novel.com/> [accessed 31 May 2010]
14 Geoff Ryman, ‘Why 253?’ in 253, <http://www.ryman-novel.com/info/why.htm> [accessed 31 May 2010]
15
Ryman, ’32: Mr William Dynham’ in 253, <http://www.ryman-novel.com/car1/32.htm> [accessed 31 May 2010]
16
Ibid. See also Ryman, ’15: Mr Harry Wade’ in 253, <http://www.ryman-novel.com/car1/15.htm> [accessed 31 May
2010]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
It
is,
however,
in
the
distributed
network
that
Galloway
ties
in
Deleuze
and
Guattari's
rhizomatic
structure
as
exemplar.
Like
the
rhizome,
a
distributed
network
opens
up
cross-‐connections
without
the
need
for
hierarchical
structure.
Points
in
the
network
may
join
in
any
combination
of
paths
or
link
directly
to
each
other;
the
distributed
network,
like
a
rhizome,
is
always
a
miniaturised
version
of
itself,
always
already
in
the
middle
(au
milieu)
of
its
production:
In
a
distributed
network,
each
node
may
connect
to
any
other
node
(although
there
is
no
requirement
that
it
does).
During
a
node-‐to-‐node
connection,
no
intermediary
hubs
are
required–none,
not
even
a
centralized
switch
as
is
the
case
in
the
telephone
network.
[Two
points
may
connect]
directly
via
one
of
several
path
combinations.
A
distributed
network
is
always
caught,
to
use
an
expression
from
Deleuze
and
Guattari,
au
milieu,
meaning
that
it
is
never
complete,
or
integral
to
itself.
[…]
Any
subsegment
of
a
distributed
network
is
as
large
and
as
small
as
its
parent
network.
Distribution
propagates
through
rhythm,
not
rebirth.17
The
distributed
network,
finally
achieving
rhizomatic
heterogeneity,
opens
up
possibilities
for
the
subversion
of
one-‐way
receptions
of
expressive
works
and
allows
for
the
conjoining
of
multiple
stimuli
as
conducive
to
the
reading
experience,
even
integral
to
it.
A
digital
poetics
becomes
a
space
in
which
such
relations
might
arguably
occur,
since
the
digital
makeup
of
information
may
be
tied
to
any
other
information
as
software,
as
content,
as
anything
that
is
able
to
be
expressed
digitally.
Thus,
digital
texts
are
both
made
up
of
and
house
data
(they
are
both
text
and
application),
which,
by
virtue
of
its
form,
can
be
connected
to
any
other
data
(though
there
is
no
requirement
that
it
does).
Mackenzie
Wark:
In
topological
times,
it
is
not
just
that
the
digital
now
operates
on
a
planetary
scale.
It
is
that
it
operates
across
scales,
connecting
the
infinitesimal
to
the
gigantic.
The
tiniest
switch
of
electric
18
current
can
launch
a
cruise
missile.
Form
is
detached
from
scale.
Aarseth's
realisation
of
the
tensions
between
a
non-‐linear
potentiality
and
a
linear
reading
structure
nonetheless
remain
relevant
in
our
discussion
of
multi-‐(as
in
truly
multiplicitous)
media
writing
beyond
the
basic
hypertext
narrative.
For
Aarseth,
the
distinction
comes
from
the
authority
of
the
notion
of
a
'true'
or
'original'
text
–
a
notion
which
becomes
questionable
when
a
text
is
subject
to
instabilities
created
by
multiple
choice
outcomes
and
experiential
shifts,
and
from
the
fact
that
user
intervention
is
required
for
the
text
to
become
instantiated.
When
these
instabilities
–
in
the
scalable
context
of
the
rhizome
–
become
applied
to
reading
methodologies
(i.e.
when
the
methodologies
themselves
become
unstable
or
variable
from
work
to
work
or
between
the
applications
which
could
be
said
to
form
the
work)
they
do
so
at
least
in
part
by
setting
up
their
own
rules.
In
basic
hypertexts,
the
rules
themselves
are
relatively
simple,
even
if
the
texts
they
produce
are
not.
The
point-‐and-‐click
method,
by
and
large,
produces
the
predicted
action,
even
if
the
result
is
unexpected.
In
more
complex
digital
texts,
the
reflexive
nature
of
production
and
replication
in
the
applications
used
to
produce
the
text
as
a
whole
means
that
the
interface
can
produce
it's
own
governing
rules,
which
needn't
even
be
consistent
for
the
duration
of
the
user's
experience
with
the
text.
The
material
potentials
of
the
text
are
thus
made
up
not
only
of
multiple
directions,
but
of
multiple
formats
with
various
elements
of
feedback
potential.
Galloway's
focus
is
on
how
the
multiple
works
in
a
distributed
network
to
achieve
maximum
17
Alexander Galloway, ‘Physical Media’ in Protocol, p. 34
18
Mackenzie Wark, ‘Analog (on Katamari Damacy)’ in Gamer Theory, [86]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
information
flow
at
minimal
loss.
In
information
networks,
the
term
'packet
loss'
refers
to
the
way
in
which
information
is
transferred
between
sender
and
receive
on
a
network
(in
data
packets)
and
how
such
an
organizational
structure
is
well
suited
to
ensuring
all
information
gets
through
reliably,
in
the
same
order
it
was
sent.
The
packet
system
aids
the
transport
of
data
in
a
way
which
facilitates
speed
with
the
precise
replication
of
the
data
sent
at
the
end
of
the
receiver.
There
is
a
crucial
difference
to
be
noted
here:
Galloway's
arguments
are
based
in
discussions
of
information
flows
in
which
use
is
directly
proportionate
to
the
use
value
of
that
information.
From
this
perspective,
complete
information
has
to
be
the
goal;
in
the
case
of
‘packet
loss,’
partially
transmitted
information
is
resent
until
the
information
flow
is
complete
with
100%
of
the
information
transferred
successfully.
The
focus
on
information
rather
than
necessarily
the
weight
of
the
individual
choice
of
how
this
information
gets
from
a
to
b
is
fundamental,
since
such
a
standpoint
allows,
ironically,
for
the
information
being
discussed
to
be
abstracted
in
a
way
which
welcomes
a
return
to
the
discussion
of
rhizomatic
principles
to
phenomenological
issues.
For
Galloway’s
context,
interruption
to
the
‘message’
is
a
form
of
destruction;
the
intended
message
is
the
pinnacle
of
the
electronic
‘master
text’
to
which
the
resulting
communicated
message
must
be
cross-‐referenced
and
must
match
precisely
in
terms
of
its
information
content
to
be
deemed
a
success.
To
all
intents
and
purposes,
physical
and
medial
contexts
are
irrelevant
and
indeed
actively
ignored
due
to
the
structure
of
the
protocols
driving
the
information.
It
is
a
certain
layer
of
protocol’s
job
to
deal
with
the
physical
ordering
of
packets
of
information,
not
the
information’s
job
itself.
Similarly,
it
is
not
protocol’s
job
to
understand
the
data
with
which
it
deals:
[P]rotocol
is
against
interpretation.
This
is
to
say
that
protocol
does
little
to
transcode
the
meaning
of
the
semantic
units
of
value
that
pass
in
and
out
of
its
purview.
It
encodes
and
decodes
these
values,
yes,
but
such
transformations
are
simply
trivial
mathematics
and
do
not
affect
meaning
[…]
Protocols
do
not
perform
any
interpretation
themselves
[…]
remaining
relatively
indifferent
to
the
content
of
the
information
contained
within.19
Galloway
here
touches
on
a
crucial
point
concerning
the
algorithm
in
a
digital
text.
The
text
does
not
take
into
account
the
qualitative
information,
instead
parsing
quantitative
translation.
Whether
information
is
meaningful
is
measured
by
whether
the
information
executes
correctly
in
order
to
be
passed
off
into
the
next
protocol.
Information
only
becomes
semantically
relevant
when
subjected
to
the
instinctive
semiotic
representational
strategies
of
the
reader.
I
will
be
addressing
further
the
critical
issues
surrounding
information
from
a
semantic
viewpoint
in
the
next
chapter.
However,
what
is
important
to
note
at
this
stage
is
the
tension
present
in
any
text
that
is
“born
digital,”:
the
coding
and
parsing
of
the
code
used
to
instantiate
the
text
is
entirely
objective.
It
is
non-‐ethical,
non-‐judgemental;
it
interprets
only
at
a
quantitative
level
which
it
relates
to
success
or
failure
of
the
execution
of
its
code.
This
very
arbitrariness
of
interpretation,
collectively
realised
in
the
application
of
a
text,
is
in
turn
what
allows
the
digital
environment
to
produce
multiplicities,
and
truly
divergent
works.
It
becomes
clear
that
the
distributed
network
and
the
rhizome,
whilst
being
exemplary
structures
for
facilitating
heterogeneity,
are
nonetheless
necessarily
governed
by
structuring
protocol(s)
which
treat
information
as
arbitrary
data
in
order
to
do
their
job
efficiently.
The
complex
structures
which
form
multimedia
constructs
do
not
absolutely
follow
distributed
methods,
but
rely
on
protocol-‐based
systems
in
order
to
achieve
multiplicity:
19
Ibid., p. 52
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
The
Web
is
described
as
a
free,
structureless
network.
Yet
the
rhizome
is
clearly
not
the
absence
of
structure.
It
is
the
privileging
of
a
certain
kind
of
structure,
the
horizontal
network,
over
another
structure,
the
tree.
So
to
equate
the
web
with
the
rhizome,
one
must
argue
against
those
who
describe
the
Web
as
a
free,
structureless
network,
and
argue
for
a
certain
kind
of
rhizomatic
protocol
on
the
Web.20
Galloway
identifies
several
layers
of
protocol
necessary
to
direct
information
flows
in
a
controlled
manner
–
layers
that
correspond
directly
to
the
authoring
and
reading
levels
of
a
digital
text
–
firstly
in
the
context
of
information
transferral,
and
then
in
terms
of
user
experience
of
navigating
a
dispersive
information
network
ensemble
like
the
internet.
In
my
consideration
of
a
digital
poetics,
it
becomes
necessary
to
appraise
the
hierarchy
of
protocological
layers
in
relation
to
a
text
which
is
inclusive
of
multiplicities
not
only
of
semantic
output
but
of
formal
structure
and
strategy,
and
which
allow
for
these
devices
to
overlap.
This
is
necessary
since
the
layers
existent
in
authoring
digital
texts
are
conduits
to
the
next
layer,
and
need
to
be
considered
as
integral
to
the
multiplicities
they
each
potentially
offer
the
poet
or
reader.
The
layers
are
crucially
centred
on
ideas
of
feedback
at
three
levels,
(which
incorporate
recursive
reading
strategies):
The
hardware
level,
the
software
level
and
the
cognitive-‐software
level.
These
can
be
outlined
as
in
my
list
below:
• Hardware
(physical
machinery
–
computer,
screen,
mouse)
• Software
layer
–
read-‐only
level
–
'top
level'
software
• Applications
layer
–
environments,
behaviours,
interfaces
created
by
software
layer
• Cognitive
layer
(equivalent
to
Galloway's
application
layer)
-‐
user
understanding,
interpretation
of
interactions
with
applications
layer.
Merges
with
applications
layer
and
with
hardware
layer
in
feedback
dynamic,
theoretically
indefinitely.
The
above
list
attempts
to
aid
a
conceptual
approach
to
how
reading
strategies
relate
to
the
rules
of
the
media
integral
to
their
meaning-‐making
possibilities.
In
this
structure,
the
only
isolated
protocol
is
that
of
the
top-‐level
software,
and
even
this
may
not
necessarily
be
static.
A
high
level
programmer
may
well
be
able
to
enter
into
this
layer.
However,
for
the
most
part,
the
applications
which
would
make
up
this
layer
(such
as,
say
Flash,
or
the
application
which
is
being
used
to
write
HTML,
such
as
Dreamweaver
or
Windows
Notepad)
are
inert,
as
they
do
not
make
available
their
source
code,
nor
do
they
make
it
possible
to
use
any
third-‐party
software
to
edit
their
core
code.
The
applications
layer,
by
contrast,
incorporates
user
intervention
as
part
of
its
development
process.
The
applications
layer
might
itself
be
made
up
of
two
or
more
layers
and
is
different
to
Galloway’s
application
layer.
In
the
upper
layer,
the
interface
itself
which
is
created
by
the
software.
Tied
into
this
are
the
areas
of
the
application
at
runtime
which
allow
it
to
respond
to
user
feedback
and
revise
output
(and
often
behaviour)
as
necessary.
These
aspects
of
the
applications
layer
are
what
give
the
interface
truly
'interactive'
qualities
in
the
ergodic
sense.
My
reforming
of
a
protocol
structure
aims
to
correspond
to
Memmott’s
discussions
of
mixed
media
applications
in
digital
text.
According
to
Memmott,
the
digital
poem
can
be
made
up
of
several
applications
produced
by
the
programmer,
which
are
designed
to
be
‘played’
like
an
instrument.
The
poem
is
itself
an
engine,
a
tool,
through
which
(or
in
spite
of
which)
the
reader
(now
more
a
user/reader)
can
generate
rich,
complexly
layered
and
multisensory
texts
that
resist
a
stasis
of
direction
or
form:
20
Ibid., pp. 61-64
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
To
consider
a
digital
poem
as
an
instrument,
one
must
first
recognize
it
as
a
specific
application
or
piece
of
software:
a
tool
for
the
development
of
something
other
than
itself.
A
clarinet
is
just
a
clarinet,
a
tool
that
demands
a
player
for
the
production
of
music.
A
digital
poetry
object
is
by
default–or
almost
always–a
piece
of
software
that
needs
a
user
to
become
an
instrument
of/for
signification.
To
learn
to
play
the
instrument–in
this
case,
the
digital
poetry
object–is
to
become
aware
of
the
strategies
of
operational
signification
within
the
given
application.
[..]
It
is
an
operational
interface
for
a
system
of
signifying
harmonics.21
It
stands
to
reason
that
the
“digital
poetry
object”
Memmott
introduces
can
itself
be
one
of
many
objects
forming
a
signifying
harmonics
of
multiple
objects.
The
structure
of
combinatory
digital
poetry
objects
may
follow
that
of
a
distributed
network,
encouraging
persistent
overlaps
of
media
and
content,
and
maintaining
tensions
between
semiotic
relationships.
Furthermore,
the
“signifying
harmonics”
potentially
created
through
user
interaction
can
often
involve
the
colliding
of
multiple
applications
whose
fusion
(in
which
discord
is
arguably
as
valid
as
congruity
as
a
harmonising
formation)
forms
tensions
fundamental
to
the
holistic
experience
of
the
work:
As
elements
on
their
own,
they
may
be
lacking
in
poetic
capacity,
but
in
relationship
with
other
elements–signs,
words,
images,
computational
and
performative
qualities–a
poetics,
or
signifying
harmonics,
may
emerge.22
Integral
to
a
digital
poetics
then,
is
the
combination
of
digital
materials,
each
of
which
can
be
designed
to
integrate
with
each
other
as
a
whole.
The
sum
of
the
parts,
rather
than
the
discrete
units,
possess
the
ability
to
crate
rich
environments
in
which
multiple
stimuli
form
the
text
and
whose
combination
is
itself
part
of
the
poetics.
Katherine
Hayles
relates
this
through
her
anecdotal
narrative
of
Kaye
returning
to
the
“electronic
hypertext
novel
Califia”
in
Writing
Machines:
Only
later,
when
Kaye
returned
to
Califia
after
more
than
a
year
had
passed,
did
she
understand
that
her
mistake
had
been
precisely
to
read
the
work,
concentrating
mainly
on
the
words
and
seeing
navigation
as
a
way
to
access
the
words,
the
images
as
illustrations
of
the
words.
[…]
Finally
it
hit
her:
the
work
embedded
the
verbal
narrative
in
a
topographic
environment
I
which
word
was
interwoven
with
world.
[…]
By
focusing
on
the
words
alone,
she
had
missed
the
point.
Now
she
was
able
to
evaluate
Califia
in
a
different
way,
from
an
integrated
perspective
in
which
all
components
become
SIGNIFYING
PRACTICES.23
(Hayles’s
italics)
Digital
texts
which
contain
multiple
components
consisting
of
multiple
media
can
relate
word
to
world
in
more
direct
ways,
but
the
combinations
can
also
affect
syntheses
reflective
of
the
unique
grammatical,
semantic
and
multi-‐sensory
combinations
at
play.
As
Memmott
notes:
[b]ecause
the
grammatological
aspects
or
signifying
harmonics
of
digital
poetry
are
not
universal,
it
is
essential
to
understand
each
digital
poetry
application
as
an
environment
or
21
Talan Memmott, ‘Beyond Taxonomy: Digital Poetics and the Problem of Reading’ in New Media Poetics, p. 294
22
Ibid., p. 302
23
N. Katherine Hayles, ‘Entering the Electronic Environment’ in Writing Machines, p. 41
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
poetic
microculture
with
its
own
grammar
and
customs.
Applied
poetics
vary
greatly
from
one
practitioner
to
the
next.
Each
application
is
its
own
Galapagos:
a
singularity
in
which
elements
are
allowed
to
evolve
or
be
invented
for
the
survivability
of
poetic
intent.
Any
given
application
will
of
course
refer
to
applications
outside
itself,
but
any
expectation
that
elements
in
one
work
should
operate
in
the
same
fashion
in
another
work
disregards
the
diversity
of
practice
and
ignores
the
challenges
to
language
[…]
elemental
to
digital
practice.24
This
crucially
equates
the
idea
of
rules
(protocol)
with
the
potentials
for
autonomy
and
anarchic
play
with
language
in
the
digital
poem.
This
seeming
paradox
of
principles
is
the
crux
of
a
modular
digital
work:
Protocological
structures
operate
autonomously,
anti-‐hierarchically,
in
order
to
do
their
own
job
regardless
of
their
content.
Though
hierarchical
in
the
sense
that
one
protocol
may
exist
only
through
the
completion
of
another,
such
relationships
are
not
defined
in
terms
of
qualitative
judgements
and
do
not
interfere
with
the
internal
workings
of
the
preceding
or
subsequent
protocol.
[P]rotocol
is
based
on
a
contradiction
between
two
opposing
machinic
technologies:
One
radically
distributes
control
into
autonomous
locales
[…]
and
the
other
focuses
control
into
rigidly
defined
25
hierarchies.
The
conjoining
of
protocols
into
a
whole
structure
manifests
the
existence
of
multiple
autonomous
agents
that
afford
the
potential
for
the
whole
to
work
potentially
in
any
way.
In
writing
about
Memmott’s
own
Lexia
to
Perplexia
work,
Katherine
Hayles
describes
the
performances
at
play
in
the
work
a
“performance
of
hybridity.”26
The
combinations
of
creoles
and
neologisms
together
with
the
hybridised
media
in
the
work,
bound
together
in
an
aesthetic
consistency
which
at
once
provides
a
unifying
structure
and
a
uniquely
alien
interface,
produce
a
work
in
which
the
linguistic
compounds
represent
and
enact
simultaneously
the
complex
feedback
strategies
taking
place
between
the
user
and
the
work
on
screen.
These
are
strategies
whose
physicality
is
represented
by
those
linguistic
and
formal
complexities
developing
on
the
screen.
As
Hayles
notes,
the
texts
give
an
overview
of
the
project’s
philosophy,
especially
the
process
of
“cyborganization”–
transforming
human
subjects
into
hybrid
entities
that
cannot
be
thought
without
the
digital
inscription
apparatus
that
produces
them.27
The
linguistic
makeup
of
Lexia
to
Perplexia
forms
through
language
what
it
achieves
through
its
interfacial
‘instrument’
form
–
the
feedback
relation
of
user
input
which
at
once
requires
the
reader
to
utilise
existing
knowledge
of
interfaces
and
potential
methods
of
navigation,
and
similarly
be
prepared
to
suspend
these
in
favour
of
new
strategies
at
once
dictated
by
and
projected
onto
the
project’s
screenic
surface.
Digital
poetry
applications,
then,
are
themselves
protocol-‐governing
entities
whose
potential
nature
is
to
be
at
once
autonomous
and
dependent,
relational
and
isolated,
derivative
and
unique.
As
Memmott
explains,
an
application
can
be
produced
by
the
same
programmer
using
the
same
software,
but
the
resulting
applications
can
be
vastly
different
with
different
rules
of
engagement
24
Talan Memmott, in New Media Poetics, pp. 302-03
25
Alexander Galloway, ‘Physical Media’ in Protocol, p. 50
26
N Katherine Hayles, ‘Electronic Literature as Technotext: Lexia to Perplexia’ in Writing Machines, p. 52
27
Ibid., p. 49
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
and
therefore
hugely
variable
methods
of
forming
signifying
strategies.
In
the
digital
poem,
protocol
itself
is
a
two-‐way
process
of
feedback
loops,
at
once
governing
the
overall
structure
of
consumption,
but
allowing
within
that
structure
the
ability
to
form
new,
unique,
protocols
for
producing
signifying
practices.
This
is
why,
although
one
can
easily
compartmentalize
digital
poetries,
such
labels
are
invariably
made
in
relation
to
the
software
used
to
author
them
(“Flash
Poetry”,
“JavaScript
Poem”)
than
the
reading
conventions
they
may
or
may
not
purport.
Digital
poetries
have
the
potential
to
be
such
vastly
differing
platforms
of
multimedia
output
that
the
very
multiplicity
of
their
forms
becomes
the
constant,
and,
as
Hayles
notes,
this
has
resulted
in
the
fact
that
“some
genres
have
come
to
be
known
by
the
software
used
to
create
and
perform
them.”28
The
protocological
layers
of
the
internet
serve
as
ordering
structures
for
the
dispersive
manner
in
which
information
is
channelled
online.
As
Galloway
notes,
William
Gibson’s
phrase
“consensual
hallucination”
is
a
fitting
terms
when
considering
the
vast
displacements
occurring
beneath
the
surface
during
network
browsing,
and
the
shutting
out
of
such
displacements
by
the
user
in
favour
of
the
standard
sequences
of
data
collected
into
one
place
on
the
screen:
Cyberspace.
A
consensual
hallucination
experienced
daily
by
billions
of
legitimate
operators,
in
every
nation,
by
children
being
taught
mathematical
concepts
...
A
graphic
representation
of
data
abstracted
from
the
banks
of
every
computer
in
the
human
system.
Unthinkable
complexity.
Lines
of
light
ranged
29
in
the
nonspace
of
the
mind,
clusters
and
constellations
of
data.
It
is,
indeed,
essential
to
reduce
the
“unthinkable
complexity”
the
geographically
inconsistent
nature
of
internet
networks
–
the
collating
of
data
from
vastly
disparate
locations
–
into
visual
metaphorical
representations
that
allow
for
manageable
processing
of
information.
Such
hallucination
is
a
second
nature
facilitated
by
graphical
user
interface
(GUI)
based
applications
that
present
the
data
at
the
front
end
in
a
manner
that
is
harkens
back,
by
and
large,
to
more
familiar
forms
of
print.
This
is
a
context
for
Galloway's
application
layer,
in
which
the
specific
rules
of
the
application
(in
his
example,
the
web
browser)
serve
the
same
role
to
the
user
as
TCP/IP
does
to
networked
information:
the
former
absolves
the
latter
of
the
responsibilities
it
has
assumed.
In
light
of
the
dynamic
protocological
potentials
of
the
digital
poem’s
applications
(and
since,
in
my
investigations,
the
data
in
question
seeks
multiplicity
and
seeks
to
exploit
ambiguities
surrounding
the
master
text)
it
stands
to
reason
that
interruptions
to
standard
data
flow
are
not
only
inevitable
as
part
of
a
reading
strategy,
but
are
performable
as
positive
creative
forces
when
the
text
is
executed,
since
it
is
through
interjections
to
the
information
flow
in
the
form
of
recursive
feedback
loops
that
the
user
gains
information
and
reiterates
elements
of
the
text(s),
a
relationship
which
repeats
in
a
reciprocal
loop.
While
the
internet
surfer,
at
a
surface
level,
is
afforded
a
self-‐reflexive
input
dynamic
with
the
content
of
the
web
material
s/he
browses,
in
the
digital
poem
this
extends
to
the
layer
of
the
applications
themselves.
The
phenomenological
tensions
which
Galloway's
protocol
layers
aim
to
eliminate
in
the
name
of
continuity
are
potentially
brought
radically
to
the
fore
in
the
digital
text.
It
would
be
useful
at
this
point
to
illustrate
the
above
ideas
in
terms
of
a
hybrid
work
which
I
feel
enacts
these
very
principles.
Janet
Cardiff's
series
of
Walk
projects
are
works
made
out
of
three
28
Hayles, ‘Electronic Literature: What Is It?’ in Electronic Literature, p. 5
29
William Gibson, Neuromancer, p. 51
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
structures
and
incorporating
the
blurrings
of
performance
and
documentation30.
The
first
structure
is
overarching
structure
of
'performing
the
piece'
in
which
the
participant
enters
into
a
contract
(almost
literally,
in
the
loaning
of
the
audio
equipment,
but
perceptually
also)
with
the
rules
of
the
system.
This
system
is
the
donning
of
headphones
before
embarking
on
a
tour
of
the
designated
area.
The
second
structure
is
of
the
recording
being
played
through
the
audio.
In
this
recording,
the
participant
can
hear
Cardiff's
voice
narrating
what
is
itself
a
kind
of
hybrid
poem,
merging
historical,
physical,
geographical
detail
with
more
abstract,
'creative'
interjections.
In
this
recording,
then,
there
is
already
a
recursive
effect
of
boundary-‐crossing
and
interruption
as
forming
new
creative
thrust.
The
third
structure
is
in
the
tour
itself,
the
physical
act
of
walking
and
being
guided
by
the
recording.
In
this
realtime,
live
environment,
the
participant
is
joining
a
narrative
very
much
persistently
au
milieu,
stepping
into
a
fraction
of
repetition
and
habit
but
also
one
of
indeterminacy.
Here,
what
we
might
call
a
'fixed'
narrative
(the
recording)
is
orchestrating
and
penetrating
the
live
environment,
but
only
through
the
cognitive
reception
of
the
participant
whose
phenomenological
experiences
of
such
synaesthesia
relate
to
the
holistic
experience.
Fractures
are
inevitable:
Buildings
and
landscapes
change,
people
and
sounds
change,
one-‐off
events
happen
which
might
interrupt
the
recording
entirely.
Similarly,
uncanny
coincidences
may
also
provide
sudden
immersion,
as
events,
noises
merge
into
each
other
for
moments
in
time
during
which
live
and
recording
become
truly
indistinguishable.
Throughout
the
performance
of
this
combinatory
media
experience,
the
tension
of
reciprocal
insertion
(of
recording
onto
live
and
vice-‐versa)
produces
a
synthesis
of
synaesthetic
experience
we
might
finally
call
the
text.
But
this
text,
of
course,
will
never
possibly
be
the
same
twice.
What
is
important
here
is
that
the
tensions
created
through
noise
and
interruption
are
responsible
for
a
heightened
textual
/
sensory
experience
only
possible
through
multimedia
forms.
Cardiff’s
work,
though
not
manifested
on-‐screen,
is
arguably
a
performative
digital
text
in
that
it
crucially
exploits
the
tensions
between
the
trivial
process
of
the
machine
(the
narrative
that
drives
forward
through
the
headphones),
the
autonomous
workings
of
the
real
world
surroundings,
and
the
unavoidably
subjective
reader’s
interpretations
of
the
combinatory
sensory
experiences.
Cardiff’s
piece
is
absolutely
aware
of
the
combinations
of
consistency
(the
recorded
audio)
and
chance
(the
surroundings
that
produce
sounds
and
physical
interactions)
that
are
interplaying
throughout
each
performance.
That
these
two
elements
combine
to
produce
instances
of
work
that,
in
spite
of
threads
of
continuity
(the
route,
landmarks,
etc.)
are
genuinely
unique
(and
rely
on
and
amplify
variances
within
the
everyday)
marks
these
works
apart
from
other
formally
similar
setups.
Audio
guides
in
exhibitions,
for
example,
possess
consistencies
in
the
recordings
which
are
matched
by
the
stripped-‐down
rules
of
the
gallery
space
(no
noise,
limited
scope
of
permitted
actions
within
the
space)
and
indeed
rely
on
external
predictability
to
impart
information
usefully.
Cardiff’s
work,
by
contrast,
seeks
to
fuse
elements
of
noise
and
interruption
as
informing
agents
in
the
text.
What
this
example
shows
is
that
protocol,
though
by
definition
rigid
and
consistent,
needn't
(in
a
digital
poetics
sense)
mean
an
end
to
the
heterogeneous
potentials
of
the
text,
even
at
the
experiential
level.
Rather,
the
control
systems
in
place
–
the
various
and
varied
applications
responsible
for
interacting
with
the
piece
–
set
up
the
means
through
which
the
user
can
engage
in
reciprocal
feedback
loops
with
the
system.
They
are
'a
way
in'.
Fundamental
to
the
workings
of
such
a
system
is
the
discussion
of
reflexivity
and
feedback
loops
in
30
Janet Cardiff, documentations of walk projects, Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, Janet Cardiff: A Survey of Works
(including CD)
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
35 J. David Bolter, “Seeing and Writing”, from The New Media Reader, p. 684
36 Sadie Plant, ‘Now, the SI’ in The Most Radical Gesture, p. 30
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
A
critique
must
therefore
be
“imminent”
in
order
to
resist
the
standardisation
process
which
would
assimilate
the
critique
back
into
society.
This
is
also
the
case
for
digital
media,
whose
ability
to
duplicate,
transform
and
distribute
make
them
an
ideal
tool
for
their
own
critique,
yet
at
the
same
time
posing
the
problem
of
becoming
that
which
they
oppose
through
redefinition
as
pastiche
or
the
‘consumable’
art
work.
Looking
at
Hayles’
discussion
of
reflexivity
is
one
way
of
conceptualising
this
relationship.
Hayles
defines
reflexivity
as
the
movement
whereby
that
which
has
been
used
to
generate
a
system
is
made,
through
a
changed
perspective,
to
become
part
of
the
system
it
generates.
[…R]eflexivity
has
subversive
effects
because
it
confuses
and
entangles
the
boundaries
we
impose
on
the
world
in
order
to
make
sense
of
that
world.
Reflexivity
tends
notoriously
towards
infinite
regress.
[…A]n
attribute
previously
considered
to
have
emerged
from
a
set
of
preexisting
conditions
is
in
fact
used
to
generate
the
conditions.37
“Changed
perspective”
is
a
result
of
input
producing
mutation
within
the
feedback
loop
whose
output
once
more
feeds
into
the
production
process.
By
situating
oneself
in
the
production-‐
consumption
feedback
loop,
tensions
can
be
created
from
within
which
stand
in
relation
to
the
immediate
causal
factors
of
the
situation.
Hayles’
reflexive
feedback
loops
are
thus
an
ideal
model
in
the
discussion
of
the
structure
of
and
the
reading
of
digital
texts,
in
that
they
consider
the
intervention
of
a
catalyst
(the
reader
/
reader’s
actions)
that
is
posited
in
a
positive,
creative
light,
orchestrating
transformations
whose
instabilities
are
responsible
for
subsequent
interpretations
and
further
actions
of
mutation.
Insofar
as
they
are
imminent,
the
situations
which
create
these
tensions
are
also
variable,
prone
to
destruction
or
failure,
unstable
in
many
respects,
lying
in
contrast
to
the
robust
securities
of
modern
life
and
modern
life’s
vehicle
for
communication.
According
to
Donna
Haraway,
this
relationship
between
system
and
human,
in
a
cybernetic
sense,
is
analogous
to
wider
systems
of
discourse,
since
the
boundaries
they
create
are
formed
from
the
same
systemic
workings:
Technologies
and
scientific
discourses
can
be
partially
understood
as
formalizations,
i.e.,
as
frozen
moments,
of
the
fluid
social
interactions
constituting
them,
but
they
should
also
be
viewed
as
instruments
for
enforcing
meanings.
The
boundary
is
permeable
between
tool
and
myth,
instrument
and
concept,
historical
systems
of
social
relations
and
historical
anatomies
of
possible
bodies,
including
objects
of
knowledge.
Indeed,
myth
and
tool
mutually
constitute
each
other.38
For
Galloway,
the
transparency
of
the
medium
–
in
a
web-‐surfing
context,
is
designed
to
suppress
what
he
terms
the
“radical
dislocation”
of
surfing
the
web.
Literally
in
terms
of
geographical
locations
of
information,
but
also
in
terms
of
quantified
and
structural
disparity,
the
interface
at
the
application
level
produces
a
stable
gateway
to
the
unstable
concepts
at
play:
On
the
Web,
the
browser’s
movement
is
experienced
as
the
user’s
movement.
The
mouse
movement
is
substituted
for
the
user’s
movement.
The
user
looks
through
the
screen
into
an
imaginary
world,
and
it
makes
sense.
The
act
of
“surfing
the
Web,”
which,
phenomenologically,
should
be
an
unnerving
experience
of
radical
dislocation
[…]
could
not
be
more
pleasurable
for
the
user.
[…]
Continuity,
then,
is
defined
as
the
set
of
techniques
37 N. Katherine Hayles, ‘Toward Embodied Virtuality’ in How We Became Posthuman, pp. 8-9
38
Donna Haraway, ‘A Cyborg Manifesto’ in Simians, Cyborgs, and Women, p. 164
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
practiced
by
webmasters
that,
taken
as
a
totality,
create
this
pleasurable,
fluid
experience
for
the
user.
As
a
whole
they
constitute
a
set
of
abstract
protocological
rules
for
the
application
layer.39
The
traversing
of
a
distributed
network
system,
then
–
be
it
in
a
distributive
or
phenomenological
sense,
or
both
–
is
a
symbiosis
of
radical
dislocation
made
possible
through
‘sense-‐making’
protocols
which
enable
such
dislocations
through
the
familiarised
interactions
which
are
themselves
in
complex
feedback
loops
with
previous
navigational
/
reading
strategies
and
simultaneously,
inherently
tied
into
market
relations.
In
the
Janet
Cardiff
work
discussed
above,
for
example,
existing
external
strategies
for
cognitive
interpretation
are
employed
as
a
way
of
immersing
the
participant
in
the
piece.
The
structure
of
walking
in
public,
and
of
passively
consuming
the
contents
of
an
audio
tour
guide,
are
subverted
by
the
poet’s
interjections
and
the
interruptive
/
augmentive
tension
of
the
ambient
sounds
captured
by
the
recording.
Nonetheless
these
strategies
must
be
used
in
order
to
allow
for
a
‘way
in’
to
access
such
subversions
–
to
create
a
situation
in
which
unique
traits
of
the
medium
can
be
experienced.
The
digital
text,
in
its
creation
of
potentially
unique
signifying
harmonic
systems,
nonetheless
utilises
protocl
to
“[c]apitalize
on
the
user’s
preexisting
knowledge
of
iconography
to
designate
a
link”40
Continuity,
transparency,
emerge
as
integral
parts
of
a
dislocative
process,
where
at
once
pre-‐
existing
strategies
inform
the
user
and
allow
the
ability
to
delve
into
and
learn
new,
autonomous
strategies
for
navigation
and
interpretation.
A
working
example
of
such
a
relationship
–
in
a
truly
multi-‐sensory,
immersive
sense,
is
John
Cayley’s
Torus.
Torus
is
one
of
the
works
designed
for
Brown
University’s
CAVE
system,
a
3-‐dimensional
environment
in
which
the
walls
of
the
small
room
are
projections,
and
in
which
the
system
responds
to
user
movements
and
gestures.
Cayley
says
of
the
project:
The
structure
and
surfaces
of
“Torus”
do
consciously
engage
with
the
problematic
phenomenology
of
text
in
space.
The
shape
itself
is
composed
from
what
I
have
come
to
call
vanes
of
text
radiating
out
from
the
empty
centre
of
the
implied
torus.
On
these
vanes
the
legible
text
is
suspended
in
a
way
that
both
suggests
and
subverts
the
surfaces
of
inscription
that
exist
in
our
habitual
space-‐time.
I
decided,
based
on
their
current
phenomenology,
that
my
letter-‐objects
in
immersive
VR
should
have
no
thickness
and
that
they
would
always
turn
to
face
the
VR
users’
primary
point
of
view
(and
so
always
present
themselves
as
what
they
are:
letters).
This
was
in
response
to
what
I
considered
to
be
the
defining
properties
of
letter-‐objects.
Note,
however,
that
such
behaviour
subverts
and
complicates
the
inscribed
surfaces
on
which
the
letters
are
suspended
because,
for
example,
the
letters
will
pivot
on
the
(invisible)
surface
of
the
plane,
both
respecting
its
existence
and,
literally,
turning
away
from
it.
Moreover,
if
the
reader
controlling
the
space’s
primary
point
of
view
is
“behind”
one
of
the
vane’s
surfaces,
the
letters
of
the
text
inscribed
on
it
will
all
be
right-‐reading,
but
the
order
of
those
letters
in
the
words
and
lines
of
the
text
will
be
reversed.
These
new
spatio-‐textual
phenomena
clearly
emerge
from
simple
rules
built
into
the
programmatological
world
of
“Torus.”41
39
Alexander Galloway, “Form,” from Protocol, p. 64
40
Alexander Galloway, “Form,” from Protocol, p. 66
41 Raley, Rita, ‘And Interview with John Cayley on Torus’ in The Iowa Review <
http://iowareview.uiowa.edu/TIRW/TIRW_Archive/september06/cayley/cayley.html> [accessed 30 May 2010]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
Having
provided
the
basis
for
a
framework
involving
distributed
networks
and
protocol
as
ways
of
understanding
a
digital
poetics
at
a
constructive
and
cognitive
level,
I
would
like
to
offer
some
examples
of
projects
which,
in
some
form
or
other,
exploit
the
aspects
of
continuity
above
and
work
with
a
number
of
combinations
of
subversions
in
order
to
foreground
or
enact
the
concerns
which
are
intimately
tied
into
their
media
and
reading
strategies.
As
discussed
above,
central
to
Memmott’s
Lexia
to
Perplexia
is
the
literary
and
semiotic
representation
of
the
posthuman.
The
content
exemplifies
the
fusion
of
the
user
and
the
interface.
The
creoles
and
neologisms
present
in
the
work
also
foreground
the
coded
aspect
of
the
work,
by
presenting
the
user
with
a
variety
of
linguistic
structures
uncommon
in
the
everyday
world
but
synonymous
with
computer
languages
and
therefore
highlighting
the
structural
influences
at
play
in
deeper
levels
of
the
project’s
build.
To
imply
or
explicitly
reveal
the
workings
of
a
program
is
to
disrupt
its
transparency
and
to
foreground
the
multiple
layers
of
translation
at
play
in
order
to
make
such
transparency
possible,
from
the
software
writing
application,
through
the
coded
algorithms
that
themselves
produce
the
means
of
production
for
the
user
navigating
the
work.
Highlighting
the
code
of
a
work
has
the
potential
to
radically
foreground
the
construction
of
the
work
in
question
–
not
solely
in
terms
of
the
hardware
medium,
but
in
terms
of
the
potential
workings
of
the
text
itself.
In
“Code,
Cod,
Ode:
Poetic
Language
&
Programming,”
Loss
Glazier
explains
that
an
array
“is
a
collection
of
objects
that
share
a
single
variable
name,
differentiated
only
by
where
they
are
located
in
the
collection,
a
collection
of
parts
whose
sum
is
greater
than
the
whole.”42
Object-‐based
languages
are
designed
to
be
economical,
with
variables
and
functions
being
defined
in
order
to
be
reused
in
various
instantiations.
In
a
viewable
code
(i.e.
one
which
is
feasibly
available
to
view
at
runtime)
such
as
HTML,
there
is
a
fundamental
shift
in
the
linguistic
values
of
code
and
parsed
output,
as
one
is
able
to
see
a
translation
process
at
work,
and
also
view
the
construction
of
the
material
potentials
realised
in
the
output.
The
code
may
not
(and
usually
will
not)
structurally
correspond
to
the
output,
nor
will
it
correspond
in
any
regular
reading
sense
to
it.
It
can
only
be
equated
in
terms
of
the
translation
method
required
to
convert
it.
Thus,
in
Glazier’s
essay-‐poem
“Code
Writing,
Reading
Code,”
the
online
appendix
exemplifies
the
thrust
of
the
essay’s
interests
by
including
large
amounts
of
content
as
HTML
comments
contained
within
the
code.43
Since
comments
are
parsed
but
ignored
in
the
output,
one
must
look
into
the
code
to
retrieve
the
extra
content.
Here,
code
does
not
represent
the
output
in
standard
sense
(in
the
sense
that
the
comments,
though
present
in
the
code,
are
not
present
in
the
output)
but
represents
it
in
terms
of
its
own
rules.
Lack
here
invites
engagement
with
the
linguistic
construction
of
the
poem
system,
which
forms
the
basis
of
the
holistic
text’s
interests.
The
commented
on
code
foregrounds
itself
through
absence
–
the
comments
are
parsed,
but
once
parsed
they
are
translated
by
the
browser
as
not
to
be
included
in
the
output
content.
Furthermore,
the
tension
this
creates,
firstly
between
the
code’s
executed
potential
and
its
literal
content,
and
secondly
between
its
executed
potential
and
its
executed
instantiation,
destabilises
any
mythical
notion
of
a
‘correct
version’
of
the
text.
The
holistic
text
exists
ad
the
simultaneity
in
42
Loss Pequeño Glazier, ‘Code, Cod, Ode: Poetic Language & Programming’
http://www.brown.edu/Research/dichtung-digital/2005/1/Glazier/index.htm. [accessed 13 April 2009]
43
Loss Pequeño Glazier, ‘Code Writing, Reading Code’ in Digital Poetics. The essay’s appendix containing ‘hidden’
source code, Mousevoer Essay in JavaScript, can be found at
<http://epc.buffalo.edu/authors/glazier/ebr/mouseover.html> [accessed 13 April 2009]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
potential
layers,
multimedia
(including
the
book
format)
and
potential
in
the
execution
of
the
code
itself.
The
works
of
jimpunk44
foreground
their
mediation
on
screen
by
creating
graphically
spatial
works
of
art
using
deliberately
low-‐fi
methodologies
in
a
web
context.
Graphical
representations
through
ASCII
renderings
in
the
source
code
serve
to
confuse
the
stability
of
the
boundaries
defining
the
serving
code
and
the
passively
received
output.
Limited
web
colours,
windows
that
move
faster
than
they
can
be
captured,
and
‘errant’
graphics
and
layouts
are
all
devices
that
deliberately
obstruct
immediacy.
As
J
David
Bolter
says:
Computer
programs
may
ultimately
be
human
products,
in
the
sense
that
they
embody
algorithms
devised
by
human
programmers,
but
once
the
program
is
written
and
loaded,
the
machine
can
operate
without
human
intervention.
[…]
Programmers
seek
to
remove
the
traces
of
their
presence
in
order
to
give
the
program
the
greatest
possible
autonomy.45
The
workings
of
code
as
process-‐generating
scripts
(through
which
reference-‐providing
outputs
are
formed)
is
subverted
by
the
directly
referential
and
metaphorical
graphical
depictions
in
the
source
code.
Instructions,
clues,
hidden
extras,
all
point
toward
the
unique
strategy-‐building
synonymous
with
the
autonomous
rule-‐building
potentials
of
code,
while
at
once
thwarting
them
through
direct
communication
from
within
the
code
itself.
The
transparency
of
code
needn't
(and
never
is)
limited
to
the
level
of
the
executing
code.
HTML
is
a
reference
code
–
it
tells
the
browser
what
to
do,
and
where
to
do
it.
Images
are
not
hard-‐coded
into
the
page,
but
are
housed
in
a
folder
to
which
the
HTML
document
points,
finds
the
correct
image,
and
places
in
the
correct
page.
But
what
of
the
images
themselves?
As
Galloway
notices,
these
too
are
subject
to
methods
of
interpretation
in
order
to
be
rendered
as
images:
Other
examples
[of
transparency]
include
image
files
that
must
also
conceal
their
source.
The
raw
code
of
images
is
never
made
visible
to
the
user.
Instead
the
code
is
interpreted
and
rendered
as
an
image.46
(Galloway’s
italics)
Giselle
Beiguelman’s
Code
Movie
147,
at
the
Electronic
Literature
Collection,
is
a
Flash-‐based
animation,
a
series
of
images
which
are
animated
and
manipulated
onscreen
in
sequence.
These
are
not
merely
images;
they
are
images
of
images,
since
the
images
files
which
might
have
been
shown
have
been
converted
to
hexadecimal
code,
which
has
been
put
in
the
place
of
the
images
they
represent.
In
a
radical
foregrounding
of
the
construction
of
images
and
the
nature
of
the
referent
onscreen,
Code
Movie
1
demonstrates
the
translation
processes
associated
with
every
onscreen
representation,
(whether
or
not
these
are
from
hexadecimal).
As
Katherine
Hayles
notes
when
discussing
signifier
relations
of
letter
to
instrument
on-‐screen:
The
computer
restores
and
heightens
the
sense
of
word
as
image
–
an
image
drawn
in
a
44
jimpunk, <http://www.jimpunk.com/> [accessed 13 April 2009]
45
Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin, ‘Immediacy, Hypermediacy, and Remediation’ in Remediation, p. 27
46
Alexander Galloway, ‘Form’ in Protocol, p. 65
47
Giselle
Beiguelman,
Code
Movie
1,
<http://collection.eliterature.org/1/works/beiguelman__code_movie_1.html>
[accessed 13 April 2009]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
medium
as
fluid
and
changeable
as
water.
Interacting
with
electronic
images
rather
than
with
a
materially
resistant
text,
I
absorb
through
my
fingers
as
well
as
my
mind
a
model
of
signification
in
which
no
simple
one-‐to-‐one
correspondence
exists
between
signifier
and
signified.48
Ironically,
in
this
project,
process
is
foregrounded
using
the
very
forms
utilized
to
maintain
continuity.
The
hexadecimal
values
themselves
are
represented
as
ascii
text,
but
rendered
by
the
Flash
application
and
ironically
subjected
to
highly
seductive
and
absorbing
morphing
and
animative
processes
which
are
themselves
the
product
of
distinct
and
complex
programming
that
is
at
odds
with
the
hexadecimal
/
colour
output
dynamic
in
regular
code.
The
code
which
represents
the
image
is
itself
rendered
as
image,
and
as
such
is
subject
to
and
foregrounded
object
of
the
relationships
between
linguistic
states
which
make
up
the
complex
layered
holistic
readings
of
a
digital
text.
This
complex
relationship
is
achieved
through
the
very
loss
of
information
supposedly
required
as
finalised
output,
and
renders
the
piece
always
in
transit
between
linguistic
stabilities.
Like
Code
Movie
1,
the
Flash
movies
of
Young-‐hae
Chang
Heavy
Industries49
feature
large,
animated
texts
in
which
the
methodology
of
translation
of
code
is
impenetrable
in
the
Flash
environment,
but
in
which
this
very
inaccessibility
is
brought
to
the
fore
through
explicit
representation
of
translation
onscreen.
These
movies
feature
stop-‐frame
animations
to
progress
the
text
to
musical
soundtracks.
Text
and
music
form
a
synthesis
through
rhythmic
and
often
tonal
congruence.
Discussing
The
Young-‐hae
Chang
Heavy
Industries
work
Nippon50,
Pressman
notes
that
[t]he
fact
that
Nippon
is
created
in
Flash
exacerbates
the
inaccessibility
of
its
code,
for
Flash
renders
its
source
code
unavailable
to
the
reader.
[...]
Nippon
does
not
depict
code
onscreen.
Whereas
codeworks
present
the
interaction
between
human
and
computer
languages
in
a
form
of
hybridized
text
displayed
onscreen,
YHCHI’s
flashing
narrative
represents
this
relationship
as
a
temporal
performance
whose
onscreen
aesthetic
indexes
the
acts
of
computational
translation
happening
beneath
the
screen.
It
thus
presents
an
opportunity
to
extend
the
insights
offered
by
critics
of
codework
to
works
of
digital
literature
whose
onscreen
textual
aesthetics
express
and
signify
the
acts
of
translation
happening
beneath
the
screen.
[…]
Nippon
shows
translation
to
be
at
the
heart
of
digital
literature
and
of
our
critical
engagements
with
it.51
A
major
feature
of
these
texts
is
in
the
combination
of
signifying
harmonics
with
lack
of
control
on
the
part
of
the
reader.
For
all
the
promoting
of
the
freedoms
of
interaction
with
digital
media,
a
major
trait
of
digital
texts
is
also
in
their
ability
to
close
off
control
in
active
resistance
to
the
user.
The
autonomous
potentials
of
the
rule-‐governing
applications
which
make
up
a
digital
project
have,
as
part
of
this
potential,
the
ability
to
make
texts
radically
resistant
to
manipulation.
Far
from
enforcing
a
closed
reading
and
reverting
to
authoritative
one-‐dimensional
readings,
there
emerges
a
paradoxical
position
whereby
the
digital
text
enforces
potentials
of
loss
and
the
mergings
of
information
through
phenomenological
overload,
over-‐stimulated
texts.
Hand-‐in-‐
48
N. Katherine Hayles, ‘Virtual Bodies and Flickering Signifiers’ in How We Became Posthuman, p. 26
49
<http://www.yhchang.com/>. [accessed 31 May 2010]
50
Young-hae Chang Heavy Industries, Nippon, <http://www.yhchang.com/NIPPON.html> [accessed 31 May 2010]
51 Jessica Pressman, ‘Reading the Code between the Words: The Role of Translation in Young-hae Chang Heavy
Industries’s Nippon’ <http://www.brown.edu/Research/dichtung-digital/2007/Pressman/Pressman.htm> [accessed
31 May 2010]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
hand
with
such
'runaway
texts'
is
the
subversion
of
elements
in
the
'textual
movie'
which
would
make
this
movie
receivable
in
a
less
dynamic
way,
instead
evoking
readings
in
which
contextual
approaches
to
synaesthesia
are
those
of
production.
The
speed
and
simultaneity
of
the
texts
(particularly
in
Nippon,
in
which
the
English
and
Japanese
texts
run
simultaneously)
resist
continuity
in
the
foregrounding
of
an
inability
to
separate
out
and
understand
discreetly
the
workings
and
translation
processes
at
play
in
both
a
linguistic
semantic
sense
and
in
the
executable
processes:
The
work
reminds
its
human
reader
that
the
computer
is
a
partner
in
its
multilingual
performance;
the
computer’s
circuitry
and
protocols
(particularly
since
it
is
accessed
online)
are
involved
in
the
production
and
dissemination
of
Nippon’s
textual
animation.
While
the
human
reader
cannot
simultaneously
read
both
texts,
the
computer
performs
technical
translations
on
both
languages
without
understanding
the
meaning
of
the
words
it
processes.
It
is
neither
the
computer
nor
the
human
(author
or
reader)
alone,
but
rather
the
partnership
between
them,
that
produce
the
work.
Nippon
thus
directs
discussions
away
from
a
rarefied
thing
called
“code”
towards
an
awareness
that
translation
happens
across
protocols,
platforms,
and
readers.
The
speeding
juxtaposition
of
languages
onscreen
in
Nippon
thwarts
efforts
at
translation
by
the
human
reader
in
order
to
make
visible
the
fact
that
translation
is
at
the
heart
of
digital
computing.52
The
above
is
compounded
by
the
effects
of
speed
consistency,
which
produces
a
predictability
in
the
setup
of
a
reading
strategy.
Many
of
Young-‐hae
Chang
Heavy
Industries'
projects
involve
texts
which
slip
in
and
out
of
legibility
through
the
greatly
varying
speeds
of
their
progression.
At
a
slow
point
in
the
music,
texts
may
plod
at
rates
slow
enough
to
foreground
themselves
to
the
reader,
but
essentially
aiding
'communication'
by
allowing
enough
time
to
parse
the
on-‐screen
information.
At
other
points,
the
text
suddenly
shifts
at
rates
difficult
to
grasp
fully,
provoking
instead
an
approach
to
the
text
based
on
sensory
combinations,
memory
lapses,
afterimages.
The
reading
strategy
here
is
paradoxically
consistent
in
its
inconsistency.
It
sets
up
methods
of
immersion
in
order
to
make
moments
of
opacity
acutely
renderable.
Mutations
onto
pattern
are
the
pattern.
William
Poundstone's
projects
frequently
employ
the
removal
of
control
and
disparities
of
pace
as
integral
to
their
reading
strategies.
His
trilogy
project
3
Proposals
for
Bottle
Imps53
merge
elements
of
fact
and
fiction
in
a
pseudo-‐story-‐telling
methodology
in
which
multiplicities
of
form
within
each
work
are
integral
to
the
acting
out
of
blurred
fact
and
fiction.
Writing
about
his
BOTTLE
IMPS
projects,
Poundstone
states:
One
of
the
things
I
realized
is
how
much
today’s
new
media
literature
is
similar
to
Roussel’s
bottle
imps.
Roussel
imagines
his
bottle
imps
to
be
multimedia
devices
incorporating
motion,
sound,
and
text.
They
enact
narratives
that
loop
endlessly,
similar
to
banner
ads
on
the
Web.54
Poundstone's
project
too
acts
as
a
movie-‐style
interface
through
which
subversions
to
time-‐centric
aspects
of
continuity
are
possible,
incorporating
the
limits
and
the
capacities
of
the
human
body
to
interpret
texts
at
high
speeds:
52 Ibid.
53
William Poundstone, 3 Proposals for bottle IMPS, <http://www.williampoundstone.net/Bottle.html> [accessed 31
May 2010]
54
William Poundstone, ‘3 Proposals for Bottle Imps’ in New Media Poetics, p. 245
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
Using
text
as
part
of
time-‐based
multimedia
raises
some
obvious
problems.
In
print,
everyone
reads
at
his
or
her
own
pace.
The
reader
can
linger
over
a
passage
or
turn
back
to
something
he
read
a
few
pages
earlier.
[…]
I
wanted
to
try
something
less
familiar,
the
autonomous
“movie
of
text.”
[…]
People
have
an
amazing
capacity
to
perceive
moving
or
evanescent
text.
I
make
use
of
that
flexibility
in
this
piece.
Some
of
the
text
stays
onscreen
for
a
long
time,
while
other
text
zooms
by
too
fast
to
read.
You
maybe
catch
the
gist
of
it,
the
way
you
glimpse
someone’s
newspaper
on
a
train.55
As
a
final
example
I
would
like
to
show
how
a
project
which
applies
traits
in
some
ways
oppositional
to
the
above
might
nonetheless
achieve
similar
breaks
to
continuity
and
foreground
constructive
processes
at
work
in
the
digital
poem.
Jim
Andrews'
On
Lionel
Kearns
offers
a
unique
combination
of
formal
approaches
to
redefine
role
of
biography
through
persistently
changing
reading
strategies.
Andrews'
working
note
states:
An
interactive
anthology
and
a
compelling
presentation
of
Kearns's
work
for
today's
computer
platforms,
this
piece
testifies
that
digital
poetics
has
a
rich
but
still
undocumented
history.
The
varied
approaches
in
this
project
testify
to
the
richness
of
the
history
being
portrayed.
On
Lionel
Kearns56
presents
a
multiply
interactive
series
of
works
in
which
unique
strategies
draw
the
user’s
attention
to
the
construction
of
reading
practices
in
a
digital
context
and
explicitly
illustrate
the
potentials
for
these
to
be
varied
and
unpredictable.
The
project
merges
instability
(varying
strategies
for
reading)
with
stability
enough
to
engage,
by
adopting
strategies
which,
though
varied,
reference
outside
habits
of
constructive
learning,
such
as
piecing
together
a
jigsaw.
Familiarity
with
these
reading
habits
is
subverted
by
the
random
placement
of
materials
on
offer
and
the
turning
to
new
strategies
from
phase
to
phase
of
the
project.
Similarly,
Andrews’
Stir
Fry
Texts57
incorporates
the
random
generation
of
words
with
an
easy-‐to-‐
grasp
navigational
strategy
of
mouseover
transformations.
However,
whereas
with
On
Lional
Kearns
the
interface
is
slick
and
the
strategies
varied,
in
Stir
Fry
Texts
the
strategy
is
consistent
but
is
subject
to
the
interfacial
glitches
of
its
own
system.
Written
using
dynamic
HTML
rather
than
Flash,
the
texts
which
transform
on
mouseover
call
attention
to
their
very
makeup.
The
changes
in
content
cause
a
change
in
sentence
/
phrase
length,
to
which
the
surrounding
text
must
shift
to
accommodate.
Consequently,
the
areas
of
activation
in
the
text
(the
trigger
areas)
are
as
unstable
as
the
textual
content,
shifting
and
often
producing
loops
of
transformation
at
illegible
rates.
Fundamental
to
the
combinations
of
traits
above
in
a
digital
text
is
that
there
is
an
inevitable
loss
as
part
of
the
meaning-‐making
strategies
at
play.
At
the
heart
of
this
are
questions
regarding
the
pattern
recognition
/
restructuring
dialectic
of
multimedia
applications.
Katherine
Hayles
states:
Questions
about
presence
and
absence
do
not
yield
much
leverage
in
this
situation,
for
the
avatar
both
is
and
is
not
present,
just
as
the
user
both
is
and
is
not
inside
the
screen.
Instead,
the
focus
shifts
to
questions
about
pattern
and
randomness.
What
transformations
govern
the
connections
between
user
and
avatar?
What
parameters
control
the
construction
of
the
screen
world?
What
patterns
can
the
user
discover
through
interaction
with
the
55
Ibid., p. 247
56
Jim Andrews, On Lionel Kearns, <http://collection.eliterature.org/1/works/andrews__on_lionel_kearns.html>
[accessed 31 May 2010]
57
Andrews, Stir Fry Texts, <http://www.vispo.com/StirFryTexts/index.html> [accessed 31 May 2010]
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
58
N. Katherine Hayles, ‘Virtual Bodies and Flickering Signifiers’ in How We Became Posthuman, p. 27
59
Ibid., pp. 32-3
60
Ibid., p. 35
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
When
combined
with
the
“microcultures”
potentially
created
in
the
form
of
digital
applications
(which,
as
I
have
discussed
above,
may
be
developed
with
their
own
rules
of
signification),
a
powerful
relationship
can
be
created
in
which
signifying
harmonics
are
created
precisely
through
their
applications’
and
the
users’
allowance
of
interruption
and
mutation,
and
the
allowance
for
a
mutational
dialectic
to
take
place
in
realtime.
The
completion
usually
synonymous
with
pattern
(closure,
resolution)
is
superseded
by
those
elements
usually
assumed
as
being
detrimental
to
creation.
In
the
complex
relationship
between
the
posthuman
and
the
systems
he
or
she
uses,
the
systems
can
no
longer
be
experienced
as
a
separated,
outside
structure,
but
must
be
viewed
from
within
and
always
already
as
part
of
that
system.
In
this
chapter,
I
have
shown
that
a
reappraisal
of
critical
discourse
centring
on
digital
poetics
must
begin
with
some
departures
from
traditional
modes
of
literary
criticism,
taking
into
account
more
rigorously
the
specificities
of
digital
systems.
At
the
heart
of
these
systems,
I
have
shown
that
the
principles
of
protocol
alongside
those
of
Deleuze
and
Guattari’s
rhizome
and
decentralized
networks
provide
a
useful
starting
point
in
the
consideration
of
authoring
a
digital
environment
and
the
text
manipulated
within
this
environment,
as
well
as
the
reading
strategies
involved
with
interpreting
and
responding
to
such
texts.
Although
recognizing
that
an
alternative
taxonomic
strategy
is
essential
in
approaching
such
texts,
this
chapter
also
reasserts
that
digital
concepts
can
and
should
be
related
to
historical
works
and
movements
not
immediately
considered
‘digital,’
in
order
to
provide
useful
contexts
for
the
digital
systemic
principles
this
chapter
outlines.
Through
this,
I
have
tied
together
how
the
social
developments
of
literary
interpretations
are
intimately
bound
to
experiential
developments
and
wider
social
developments,
again
bound
by
the
modular
combinatory
workings
of
protocol.
It
is
this
social
aspect
that
I
will
now
develop
in
the
next
chapter,
relating
the
structural
issues
discussed
above
to
notions
of
aesthetics,
formal
innovation,
appropriation,
versioning
and
resistance
in
digital
texts.
John Sparrow, Student Number: 100126003
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