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The Internet in 2021: Net Art, Data Privacy, and Community

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In this episode, AMT Lab contributors Rosemary Haynes, Sam Houle, and Morgan Kasprowicz explore the complicated relationship of art and the internet through the story of net art, particularly Zach Blas’ Contra-Internet. They also examine these ideas through the lenses of data policy and sociological theory and discuss what this means for arts managers in this age of virtual art consumption. Rosemary’s, Sam’s, and Morgan’s research can all be found on the AMT Lab website:

Referenced Resources

Transcript

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Angela: Hello, AMT Lab listeners, and welcome to a special episode brought to you by the Arts Management and Technology Lab. My name is Angela Johnson, and I’m the Podcast Producer. In this episode, AMT Lab contributors Rosemary Haynes, Sam Houle, and Morgan Kasprowicz have a conversation about the complicated relationship between the internet and art. Hope you enjoy!

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Sam: We rely on the internet more than ever before. In many ways, we've also become more aware of both the benefits, risks, and limitations of living, working, and making art on the internet. I'm Sam.  

Rosemary: I'm Rosemary.  

Morgan: I'm Morgan, and we are all contributors to the Arts Management and Technology Lab.  

Rosemary: Today, we'll explore the complicated relationship of art and the internet through the story of one artist's work. That artist’s is named Zach Blas, and the body of work is based on the concept Blas calls "Contra-Internet."  

Morgan: We're also going to talk about how Blas suggested a road forward that has support from some lenses of data policy and some sociological theory, and we're going to talk about how Blas' vision for the future might make arts managers working hard to pivot to digital content feel a little bit uncomfortable or uneasy.  

Rosemary: Today, we will be discussing the 2016 e-flux article, "Contra-Internet" by artist Zach Blas. This article is part of a larger body of work by Blas known as Contra-Internet. This work explores the internet as a system of surveillance and control. More information on this project along with Blas' other net art projects can be found on his website, www.zachblas.info.  

Morgan: So, Rosemary, what exactly is net art?  

Rosemary: Well, I think that net art is something that is constantly evolving. I mean, the internet is so young and the way that it exists in our society changes at an extremely rapid pace. And I think that net art is defined by its relationship to critiquing what the internet is and using the technologies of the internet to do that. So what that looks like is very different than what it looked like two years ago. 

Morgan: So, Rosemary, we're going to talk about specifically one net artist, Zach Blas, and his work Contra-Internet. Tell me what Contra-Internet is all about. 

Rosemary: Sure, I think a relevant starting point in understanding Contra-Internet is Contra-Internet Inversion Practice #1, which was the first piece of work that Blas made under this title. In its most simple form, I guess it could be described as just a recording of a computer desktop. And Blas is interacting with that computer and working in a text editor to take quotations from different radical theorists, putting them into a text document, and then editing out words like "capitalism." "Capitalism" is replaced with "internet”; "economy" and "world" are replaced with "network." 

Sam: So, I figured it would be interesting to kind of look back at the inception of the concept of net art. So, what was net art historically? How has it progressed from its inception?  

Rosemary: That's a really good question. I think one text that has been foundational for me understanding net art is Network Art: Practices and Positions. It's a book edited by Tom Corby. It's a collection of work by historians, artists, curators—people involved in the field of making net art. And in the introduction of the text, Tom Corby provides a working definition for what net art was in 2006, which sort of defines the first 10 years of net art. In the introduction to the text, Tom Corby provides a working definition for how we can understand net art:

Network art is inclusive of practices that are formally complex, but also work in which technology is not a necessary and present condition for the realization and dissemination of the work, such as books and performances. That is not to say that network art is inclusive of all forms of creativity that have a passing relationship to the net or deal with the consequences of informational processing. This definition does not include approaches that uncritically exploit networked technologies as a marketing opportunity for older forms of art, but rather is inclusive of practices that thoughtfully respond to the emergence of and widespread social, cultural, and economic impact and take-up of networked information technologies.

In terms of the latter part of your question, Sam, of what net art is today, I think the example we've chosen of Contra-Internet #3 by Zach Blas is a good marker of the conversation today around net art. It's a critical analysis of networks today using multiple aspects of the current networks to illustrate these ideas. The relevance of this essay, “Contra-Internet," relies on contextualizing the piece as a part of the current era of the net art movement. Since 2006, the network which is the internet has grown immensely, as has its presence in our society. "Contra-Internet" provides a basis for understanding these developments historically, arguing that we can best understand the internet, "as a totalized socio-cultural condition." At the onset of the internet, artists saw mass potential for the internet to be a space free of hierarchy and traditional markets. Natalie Bookchin was one of the earliest net artists creating the "Intro to Net Art" web-based manifesto in the year 1997. She also wrote an essay entitled "Grave Digging and Net Art: A Proposal for the Future," which was later published in the book edited by Tom Corby, Network Art: Practices and Positions. In the book, she describes what the movement looked like at that time: "Artists wrote irreverent yet earnest manifestos outlining their independence from the mainstream art world. They made work that used the internet and the web as materials and systems to be manipulated for their own ends, making links to each other's websites and circulating their work via email, message boards, and mailing lists.”

Morgan: So, Rosemary, that's interesting because that was written over 20 years ago, but I think that a lot of people just, like, never progressed past this point of, like, thinking of the internet only as a space of possibility and not thinking about the ways in which it could be critiqued. So, yeah, say more about Blas' work.  

Rosemary: Sure, yeah. I think that's a really good point, that net artists maybe are seeing the harm of the internet in a way that's different than the public typically engages with it. Blas, being the artist we are examining today, sees the internet as a space dominated by control, surveillance, and hierarchy. In the final section of the essay "Contra-Internet," Blas's conclusion is anti-web, looking to the use of FireChat, a platform which doesn't rely on mobile phones or WiFi, which was specifically utilized in 2014 by pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong. 

Sam: So, I think an overview of the current policies that impact digital interaction will help kind of paint a better picture of both the current sentiment behind internet governance and what the future might hold because of these developments, especially in the context of artistic expression and/or activism. So, first, I want to touch on Blas' concept of killing the internet. In times of unrest, governing bodies have the option to mandate blackouts of communication networks to stifle dissonance towards the state. Blas outlines this notion with a few examples of this. One of the most noteworthy, in my opinion, being the Egyptian government's reaction towards the uprising of its citizens on January 28, 2011, during the Arab Spring protests, were one such of these blackouts occurred to restrict the dissidents from organizing over digital internet platforms. Though this blackout was immediate, the uprising still prevailed through other pathways to communication, and the network used for stock trading remained online. There are other versions of what one might consider to be a blackout in which not all communication is stifled, but communication and interaction along ideological lines is suppressed instead. The Communist Party of China is a prime example of a governing body that enforces state-based knowledge control and production. China's provisions on ecological governance and online information content is a doctrine that allows for posts by internet content creators to specifically be classified as "illegal or negative," among other draconian designations, meaning that personal and artistic expression is only acceptable if it follows the right narrative as defined by the elites and government officials in China.

It may seem like this form of governance is unique to authoritarian states, but a somewhat similar sentiment exists domestically. A recent change in policy within the United States State Department has citizenship seekers provide their social media accounts in their application, which insinuates that any postings the federal government deems unacceptable could hinder path to citizenship, which would force artists who use social media to self-censor in fear of alienation or state scrutiny, even if there is nothing inherently illegal about their digital content and/or views. Regarding U.S. citizens, a shift may soon occur in the level of autonomy one has in posting on social media sites and other websites based around user-generated content, which arguably function as communication that has become essential to American life, especially during the pandemic. The EARN IT Act, which stands for the Eliminating Abusive and Rampant Neglect of Internet Technologies, would functionally roll back the protections that telecom and other tech companies have through Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (CDA) of 1996. The crux of the CDA is based on this portion of the statute, which is, "No provider of a user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider." This implies that companies who provide access for digital interaction would not be held liable for any content posts of other users, though, as I previously stated, this is subject to change. Many citizens take for granted the level of freedom one has communicating and navigating through these networks. But with these recent legislative developments, the reactionary "blackouts" seen internationally could become more specific to certain users' choices of content. For instance, a far right regime could designate even certain standards of acceptability that would flag left-leaning content for further scrutiny under the guise of "national security." But both data retention is already an issue that is very characteristic of this era of digital communication, and there are still many limitations to the extent to which this data can be used, which paints the picture that most digital communication, whether it's actually or by other modes of communication, such as means or art, is almost always tied to a larger profile data based on the user. We do not live in a world where we can freely express opinions without the expectation of scrutiny from others. And I'd argue that's okay in theory as debate is one of the only ways to change other people's minds. But it's important to remember that, in practice, those who have access to algorithmically determine whether or not our contact is acceptable by both their own specific private standards and standards influenced by governmental legislative committees are the individuals who set into motion these forms of socialization, generally without most user's knowledge of it, such as Mark Zuckerberg from Facebook, or Jack Dorsey from Twitter. Nearly every instance of digital interaction, unless it's between two people who previously knew each other from outside of that digital space, is fundamentally different from real in person interaction, as it occurs as part of what Blas considers as the "totality of the internet," in which the interconnection of everything is quick leading to "the disappearing of internet," and that the lines between what most would consider an internet "network" and the space in between such a network are continuously blurred because it's difficult for any one internet user to see the impact of their actions in digital space. It seems that there's a misconception around the idea that our digital presence is separate from our real selves. In our capital society, data retention and the algorithmic processing of the same user data is key to the neoliberal commodification of all or most things. Most social media websites only exists because of our social interaction, whether directly or indirectly, especially through artistic expression on these platforms because they're used to prop industries that need access to advertising space to function. This notion, I believe, leads to the idea that arts managers acting in digital spaces may inherently bolster the system. They wish to aid in critiquing, unless pragmatic conscious attempts are made to work around these boundaries. However, there are opportunities to depart from the behemoths that kind of generically define a colloquial understanding of "the internet." It seems like Facebook is one of the first heuristics people go to when they hear the internet, but we should try to consciously look towards other alternatives. Telepath is one such example that defines the standards of kindness and bans the sharing of misinformation and hoaxes. It only allows people to use their own names; there are no bots permitted. It's not perfect, but it's an example of more localized, less commercialized digital interaction, much like what Blas considers to be paranodes. 

Morgan: So, yeah, so now that we've talked a bit more about the surrounding history and theory behind Blas' Contra-Internet, I want to talk a little bit more about his proposed future because, if you're like me, at the end of any valid critique like this, you ask yourself "Okay, so, now what?" To answer that question, Blas proposed this future of "paranodes," or, essentially, the space beyond and between the networks in which we currently exist online. At the end of his "Contra-Internet" essay on e-flux, Blas says, "The internet's end is also the paranode’s beginning. The paranode is the horizon, the site of futurity that contra-internet practices move toward." So, if you're trying to imagine what a paranode looks like, in Blas' Contra-Internet art, they look kind of like the open spaces between the strands of a spider web. In a social context, paranodes might be the space outside of social media, outside of web-based interaction and sharing of work, outside of web-based anything. Think totally analog, outside of the internet. Rosemary, there's some other examples of what this looks like too, right?  

Rosemary: Sure, I mean, I think it goes back to something I discussed in the introduction about the early net art movement, right around 1997. A particularly pertinent example is a piece of work by an artist duo that went by the name MTAA. The piece was titled Simple Net Art Diagram and it depicts two computers, and there is a connection between the two as if, much like a network diagram, each one of the computers is a node. And at the center of this connection, which maybe could be the paranode, the space in between the computers, is a lightning bolt that flashes on this GIF, and it says, it identifies that this lightning bolt is where the art happens: it says "The art happens here." So I think it's interesting to think about how Blas' use of network diagrams and this sort of early theory of networks—I think he references a piece from as early as like 1964 in terms of what a network diagram looks like—is interesting to think about how some of the earliest artists that were making work during the time of the internet were also thinking about net art and creativity on the net as something that exists outside of that space. 

Morgan: Right. And, after all, like, Blas' essential whole critique is that the internet has created a space that actually magnifies some of the worst parts of the analog world. Blas calls the internet an "instrument for state oppression and accelerated capitalism." So then he suggests that these paranodes, these spaces outside of internet networks, are the future and the solution for both art and society. So to help bring Blas' imagined contra-internet world into a clearer focus, I'd like to bring in a perspective from someone who shares a lot of Blas' societal critiques and has a solution that pairs well with Blas' theory of paranodes. This is a sociologist named Ray Oldenburg. So, Ray Oldenburg was famous for railing against another convention of the modern world: suburbia. In his book, The Great Good Place, Oldenburg suggests that the way we spread out our communities through suburbanization has been a detriment to civil discourse. Oldenburg suggests that we don't run into our neighbors in the coffee shop or the town square everyday anymore, and so we're starting to lose connection to the people around us. It's easier to form divides this way. So, in a 1997 article in The Planning Commissioners Journal, Oldenburg describes America as struggling against the anti-community character of the postwar suburban landscape. And that was over 20 years ago. Much like the examples that Rosemary provided, back then, maybe, in 1997 we were thinking of the internet as being full of possibility and we were also recognizing that our communities were becoming more separated and we didn't maybe realize that those two things would become evermore connected. Yeah, because this was before the internet made it easier to have an Instagram comment war with your neighbor rather than have a disagreement at your corner bar. So where Blas argues for the creation of "paranodes" outside of internet networks, Oldenburg might suggest that we fill those paranodes with these, what he calls "third places" as a productive, more just type of community.

A third place is essentially a gathering place outside of work or home that centers conversation and connection. Coffee shops, bars, barber shops, even some well-designated arts lobbies are all examples of third places. In a third place, people strip themselves of family and work identities and can connect across lines of social and economic difference. So, in that way, true third places are the exact opposite of what Blas describes the internet to be and might help us find a way forward. The problem with all of this is, as much as we might imagine more unified and just communities outside of the internet, separating our world from the internet in both personal and business contexts is a whole other thing, especially in the era of Covid-19. Oldenburg maintains that he thinks third places are an in-person only phenomenon, but others, like technology and communications expert, Charles Soukup, have pushed back. In Soukup's 2006 paper about the potential for building third places on the web, he identified ways in which internet communication is actually sometimes less inhibited and more lively than in-person conversations. It also goes without saying that it's hard to imagine a world right now where communication and community exists only in analog paranodes. It's hard to imagine a future where the internet isn't part of how we make or share art. And while Blas clearly thinks the internet is bad for artists, that's a hard thing to hear for arts managers who are seeing over half of Americans participate in online cultural activities in 2020. What's even more interesting is that data from Culture Track's 2020 Special Edition study shows that many people who are participating in digital content hadn't been to a similar physical arts organization in the past year. Many of those digital audiences are flocking to online arts to relax, to escape stress from the real world, and even use those online arts experiences to spend quality time with family and friends. Granted, also according to Cultural Track, 88% of that digital cultural content was accessed for free. So, I have to wonder how Blas might respond to that data, though I'm sure neither Blas nor arts managers would like to see the arts world continue to exist primarily online. So in the end, I don't think Blas or Oldenburg are wrong in their critiques of modern society, but there's a tension there between what feels like this burgeoning need to rethink the way the internet has shaped our society and our need to be realistic about what's possible in the Covid-19 era. But I think we can hold onto both ideas at once. Sam and Rosemary, what do you think? 

Sam: So I personally think that this is a better time than ever, during the pandemic, to kind of reimagine where and why we're choosing to use, in general, these large behemoth social media companies to communicate and to interact online. And I think a big part of it is the ease of access. I know that kind of goes without saying. Obviously, things like that are so interconnected that it's just so easy to click online and go through them and use them. But at this point in the pandemic, we're realizing that maybe, you know, in person third places are not necessarily as possible as they used to be, so how can we train ourselves to utilize what we consider the internet, in a more, I would say, sustainable, and less destructive fashion? In that, you know, when you go on any major social media site, there's always a larger profile of data related to the user, but, like I said before, there's alternatives like Telepath, which is kind of anti-Facebook or Twitter. They try to allow for modes that, what might necessitate using your real name and your real profile, it doesn't push commercialized spaces on the user. It allows for uninhibited discussion as long as, you know, people go within the certain guidelines that they've set. So there are ways I think we can use the internet now without completely thinking about the future of the world without the internet wherein we can still have these conversations that are necessary to, I think, bring us back to a sense of reality that we're missing. 

Morgan: Yeah, and Rosemary brought up FireChat, too. I think, you know, Telepath, FireChat, some of the ones that I'm looking into within my research, like High Fidelity, even just, like, building out spaces where people can exist and interact within Mozilla Hubs, there seems to be sort of a reaction, not only in art spaces, in other spaces, too, but, you know, if we think about an arts space as still creating environments where people can interact. I mean, it's obviously a need that we have, regardless of whether we're able to do it in person or not. And so I guess I'm wondering if some of these newer spaces might allow us to sort of escape what we think of as, oh gosh, like, the oligarchy of dominant social media culture, you know, the big ones that are taking and selling our data, that are essentially, like, glorified advertising platforms. It seems like there are some platforms now that are trying to get away from what Blas critiques as the worst parts of the Internet and try to create a different kind of space, even on the internet. 

Rosemary: I think that's a really great point, Morgan. One idea that Sam sort of touched on that I think is very related to this is the idea that data retention and algorithmic processing of our data is key to the neoliberal commodification. You know, these companies rely on profit, and the thing that they're exploiting to get this profit is our data, is the conversations that we have, is the images that we post. And it's no longer traditional labor or goods and services; it's our identity. We, in order to exist and get the connection that we so desire on a major social media platform, we have to market ourselves as a commodity. So it goes beyond just the commodification of, like, mass advertisement of products and things that they've decided through algorithms are important to us. It's—we're having an alienation from our own identity by presenting ourselves in these ways, which I think is what is so interesting about these more open source, more small scale, individually-decided communities or locally-decided communities on the internet, because you're not participating in a big market; you're participating in a community. 

Morgan: Right. And I think, you know, kind of what I was saying about Culture Track data, it shows that people are looking to the arts for that community. I think people are also looking to the arts to sort of escape the commodified world, generally speaking. So it's always interesting to consider how we can use art as sort of, like, the center of communities that are just, that are promoting free speech, but in a way that is constructive as opposed to destructive. And I think, yeah, I'm hopeful that those things can continue to develop and exist in some way. Sam, any final thoughts? 

Sam: Yeah, I would kind of just go along the lines that I think we're forgetting how—not just general conversation, but—real, meaningful communication shouldn't really be easy. And that's what large social media behemoths have kind of allowed us to believe: that you can log online and immediately have a discussion about whatever you want and not really tie a face to your name. Sure, you might have your name on a profile, but these unregulated spaces, they kind of are disguised as the third places that we're talking about, but they're never really going to be that. And because we kind of see that as the third place we're looking for where we can have these uninhibited conversations, we forget that everything we say is tied to dollar amount in some way or another, just to some neoliberal value, as opposed to what Rosemary was talking about, like, just, the creation of our own identity as our own, as opposed to tied to something greater, you know, something greater that we're not even necessarily giving the green light to directly. It's more of an indirect, you know, log on, sign in, and conversation, as opposed to going into, like, a coffee shop and having a discussion with someone. We forget what is tied to every word we say online. 

Morgan: I think that's definitely true. This is such a fascinating conversation. Rosemary, thank you for bringing the work of Blas to our attention. Thank you all for this discussion and thank you all for listening in. 

Angela: Thanks for listening to the AMT Lab podcast. Don't forget to subscribe and to leave a comment. If you would like to learn more, go to amt-lab.org. That is A-M-T dash L-A-B .org. Or, you can email us at amtlabcmu@gmail.com. You can also follow us on Twitter at Tech in the Arts, or on Instagram, Facebook, or LinkedIn at Arts Management and Technology Lab. You can find the resources that we referenced today in the show notes. Thanks for listening. See you next time. 

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