Excerpt from Australian Sound Design Project]]> Artist Statement
Sydney's Siberia recreates how networks build exploratory story-scapes through an interactive zooming/clicking interface. Using 121 poetic/story image tiles, the artwork dynamically generates mosaics, infinitely recombining to build new connections/collections based on the users movements. The images/texts come from exploring Newcastle, Australia as a patchwork, a complex mix of architectural tendrils, whose stories extend to and are strained by the overshadowing behemoth of Sydney to the West. And as each new grid is formed, the reader must search for what they haven't seen, mining in a digital Siberia.
Source of Artist Statement]]> Tableau's website]]> Source of Description]]> Artist Statement
A live video feed from the room where I often sleep captures the canal outside the window, a well-traversed trade route into Amsterdam. A live web cam sequences at 6 sec time intervals and transmits this via the Internet, which opens up as a portal, a projection site in Hobart. A counter at the right bottom marks the date and time. On the left, each morning at dawn GMT+1. I add a personal aphorism. I ask the viewer to consider the detail in a scene that might otherwise be consumed in a momentary glance the light, the mood of the water, the position of the birds, the trash. The 6 sec. incremental changes are perceptible, revealed through changes of the reloading frame. Somewhere in between the image peel a cargo boat on the canal vanishes. The next frame we may only see its wake.
At times, the canal is completely still. A dark body of water. Or hours there is nothing happening and suddenly two birds are caught in mid flight. Because the work is Live it calls into question where the 'object' actually is - is it located at the server, on site in Hobart? Or in-between, the interstices of the world? In a sense, the work is un-locatable its point of origin is continually shifting. If you can tell me where it is, I would say it is dead.
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Talking About the Weather is an ongoing cross media project sparked by our response to the terrifying spectre of global climate change. Sheer terror at the possibilities that are being talked about led us to talking about the weather. In this project weather talk is no longer a banal exchange of local weather conditions, but instead we ask people to donate their breath - the breath which they would normally use to talk about the weather and the same breath that is spread far and wide as described by Tim Flannery. Working with breath emphasises the dynamic nature of the atmosphere and our part in its creation and destruction. As Tim Flannery says, every breath you take makes you part of a dynamic system called the atmosphere, or the aerial ocean.
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During Imagina '93 computer graphics installations in Monte Carlo and in Karlsruhe were connected by modem through a conventional telephone line. Facing large video screens, the two distant players each shared the same virtual image space. While manipulating their own graphic elements each person was at the same time seeing on the screen in front of them the result of their distant partner's actions [...] Sharing a televirtual space of alphabetic forms, the formal interaction of the two players was both a sculptural interplay of the letters as well as a tentative communication with words. Up to eight letters could be placed by each player on the board at one time, and each player's letters had a distinctive colour (magenta and cyan). These letters could be individually resized in width, height and depth, becoming more transparent as their size increased. Each letter could also be moved anywhere over and above the surface of the game board. After some time, letters that were not being manipulated in one way or another would disappear from the game board area. Another function allowed each player to independently control their angle of view over the whole scene, and a voice phone connection between the two sites also allowed the players to speak to each other while manipulating these letters in the shared virtual space.
Source of Artist Statement]]> Excerpt of Leonardo Flores' description, I love E-Poetry]]> Artist Statement
This piece is a narrative cyberpoem which i first began working on in 1995 for my cyberpoetry CD-ROMs. That version, called "reality is a construct" was created in logo-motion in 3D and ran for seven minutes. This version, because of different connection speeds, different browsers, different hosts, etc., has to be restricted to animated gifs and whatever comes packaged with Netscape 3.
Source of Artist Statement]]> Gillian Fuller]]> Artist Statement
The Art of Walking where we remix Agnes Varda's Vagabond, our own online project Museum of Rumour and Mark Amerika's Sentences on Remixology 1.0 with a dash of Hamish Fulton the walking artist. The work came about through serendipity. Mark's deadline for his Remix project was looming and we had just read his Sentences on Remixology 1.0 a wonderful piece of writing that detourned Sol Lewitt's own Sentences on Conceptual Art. Mark had completely rethought what it is to be a media/ postproduction artist today. His thinking ranged widely across the arts and philosophy and there was a lot to think about.
Artists' statement from remixthebook.com]]> Artist Statement
Within every human there is a singular gene, unique only to that individual. And with that gene comes a singular ability, a rare, mostly never realized capacity for interacting with the world. The Bomar Gene explores this mythical gene, through a series of ficto-biographies, with each story being retranslated and spatialized through interactive interfaces and embodied animations. Each section opens up to such questions as: How are we defined by our genetic code? What does it mean to be an individual, to be unique? What are the implications of a society obsessed with rare abilities and super-powers?
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With two pens in each hand the artist attempts to write four letters simultaneously.
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Get lost in the hidden places of Brisbane's Fortitude Valley. Discover secret doorways and forgotten phone boxes, dance with ghosts of the streets' past and future. In The City We Build, create your own pathways. Weaving words into the physical spaces that we walk around daily, three Brisbane poets take you on an experimental journey of poetic storytelling through the rich hunting grounds of Fortitude Valley, unearthing its abundance of night spots, unusual characters, river posts, and alleyways. Beginning at the iconic Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, these poetic trails combine language and landmarks to showcase 'the Valley' in a whole new light. And you lead the way Traverse the Brisbane River and discover the fluidity of choice with Julie Beveridge. Delve into the rock 'n' roll underbelly of the Valley with Carmen Leigh Keates. And travel through time and space, into Brisbane's past and through its future, with Chris Lynch.
Authors' description from iTunes]]> Excerpt from Leonardo Flores' description in I love E-Poetry]]> Excerpt from Leonardo Flores' description in I love E-Poetry]]> Excerpt from the radio program Poetica, Radio National]]> Artist Statement
The Disappearing is a free app for Apple and Android devices that (literally) maps poetry and place. As an ongoing project, The Disappearing uncovers poetry’s invisible currents in the world around us. Using geo-location to map poetry to place, the app charts fragmentary histories, impressions and memories, encouraging readers to interact in a non-linear way. Not only is The Disappearing a pocket-sized library of poems about places, the app is also an alternative travel guide that preserves and shares experiences, emotions and ideas that vanish over time.
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The egg, the cart, the horse, the chicken was written by Hazel Smith (text) and Roger Dean (sound). The hypertext and animations, written in Flash by Hazel Smith, are designed for a split screen. The texts in both the upper and lower frame are grouped into short linear 'scenes' which form an overall 'movie'. But the sequence in the upper frame can be disrupted by clicking on hyperlinks (marked in capital letters), which allow the reader to jump to texts other than the ones which follow each other in sequence. Consequently the juxtaposition of the texts on the two different screens is also variable. The piece engages with the way in which linear systems are constantly disrupted by non-linearity. This is written into the piece at a formal level by the use of the hyperlinks, animation and split screen, which tend to disrupt normal reading processes. Thematically the piece also addresses the ways in which a simple cause and effect relationship rarely operates, even within scientific systems. At the same time the hypertextual network interconnects many different ideas including the cultural significance of illness, the process of writing, the commodification of women's bodies, and the atemporal nature of memory.
Source of Artist Statement]]> Description from Media Art Net, website for media artwork]]> Artist Statement
This is a simple work. It is a cycle of poems, randomly interlinked. It is not radical in its use of technology - the randomising perl script is the most natural way to navigate the cycle of poems because, while all the poems were written in the year 2003 during a period of intense personal circumstances as well as intense public international upheavals, the poems bear no linear relationship to each other and therefore can be read in any order. The technology is used in the service of artistic expression, which is a sensible role for technology. In this case, the artistic expression is simply a cycle of poems, so there is little to recommend it.
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The Flight of Ducks [is] a participatory online documentary built around a collection of objects from a camel expedition into Central Australia in 1933. [This work] takes the textual form of a journey through a landscape and turns it into a contextual universe where hypertext paths can be taken through a datascape. These paths form stories. Narratives that can dip into their paper bound origins or plunge into the poetics of the screen space. In this space they are composed into shimmering pixilated displays where image and text are inseparable and anyone can participate.
Excerpt from author's article: Duck Song: Text and Image in on-line narrative.]]> Excerpt from the Australian Sound Design Project]]> Gillian Fuller]]> Artist Statement
In this installation images are projected onto a large screen lying flat on the floor of the exhibition space. The spectators stand on a surrounding balcony where a joystick enables any one of them to interactively operate the work by panning in any lateral direction over the surface of its images and zooming in or out of a chosen part of an image. At the zoom extremes the joystick generates a digital transition from one image layer to another.
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The Net.Art Browser is a means of conjoining information space with the museum space and hybridizing the interactivity of surfing the Internet with the museum tradition of wall mounted images. While painting, cinema and TV construe images inside a fixed frame, the notion of 'augmented reality' that accompanied the development of the virtual reality technologies offers the new paradigm of a mobile viewing window that reveals images that are spatially embedded in the real environment. Using this model, the Net.Art Browser's web sites, curated by Benjamin Weil, are virtually placed side by side along a white wall. A motorized large flat screen (linked to a cableless keyboard) allows the viewer to move this display window linearly (in either direction) from one Internet-connected web site to another.
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One possible reading is as 3-dimensional concrete poetry sculpture generator. The cube interface allows the reader to move the interface in 3-dimesional space, with the all elements placed on the cube transforming in proportion to the cube's movement, perspective and warping is reasonably maintained as the cube is moved. Furthermore, each of the rows and columns can be moved to further recreate the placement and graphical nature of the poem.
Each of the sides of the poem are colour coded to give the reader a reference point for the initial configuration of the interface, so changes become more apparent. A learning tool designed by myself and programmer Rory Hering. The Cube allows users/poets to enter a 16 line poem, with those lines automatically placed within the multi-layered sections. Use the buttons to move in and out, recombining the poems by turning the Cube upwards, downwards and inwards. Built to act as a bridge between the print and digital worlds.
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