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 Multimedia and the Arts Public Panelists: Camille Utterback, Frank R. Wilson, M.D. and Bernard Yee Moderated by Mark Tribe The following white paper is drawn from the remarks of the panelists and moderator for this session, along with the questions and responses from members of the audience. This document is intended to reflect the variety of viewpoints offered during the discussion, and to frame broadly the issues discussed; it should not be taken as a formal statement of opinion by the panelists. In contemporary parlance, the term "new media" is ambiguous, conveying everything from a computer professional's insider view of the next big technology to a more common electronic, computer-driven mechanism for conveying information. This ambiguity certainly affects our understanding of the related term "new media art," which might mean anything from art that audiences access over the internet, to works that make use of technology to engage the viewer. And in much the same way that new art has often been political, "new media art" has strong dimensions of social and scientific engagement, and a focus on the impact of art for the artist, his or her audience, and the world. What's Old Is New Again While human creativity is driven by the brain, the hand is our main instrument of physical creation, giving shape to our creative impulses. The hand has also been an object of fascination for science as much as for art, and in ways that are sometimes difficult to separate the art from the science. For example, we may never truly know the role or meaning of the hand painting in prehistoric art, but it has artistic merit as much as a scientific value. In traditional Hindu culture, Bodhisattva sculptures often represented the importance of the hand-mind connection. Fascination with human anatomy led thinkers such as Leonardo da Vinci and Andreas Vesalius to explore the hand's inner workings—in drawings that we appreciate for their artful beauty as well as their scientific insight. Our need for hands, coupled with our growing technological capabilities, lead the development of prosthetics, which subsequently became a highly symbolic component in the art of the Dadaists. And there is an inescapable connection between the use of our hands and the way in which our minds are shaped: how we understand the world is driven in part by the interactions we have with our hands. Within the world of "new media art," representations of the hand may not play the same role, but the importance of the brain-hand connection is hardly diminished. An analogy for this hidden role can be found in the everyday use of basic personal computer programs: for the average person, computers simply work, presenting their icons and toolbars, and engaging the user in a dialogue to undertake certain actions, such as word processing. But behind the scenes, much work—much creative work—has been done to build a robust environment for the user: many people's brains and hands have written the code that makes our computers work, and have developed the on-screen environment that draw us in, letting us use our brains and our hands, too. What this brain-hand, art-and-science history suggests is the importance of both old and new artistic and scientific advancements—and of the need to foster communication among artists and scientists. The traditional visual arts, such as drawing, painting, and sculpting, all require not only brain-hand connections, but also an understanding of science (such as the concept of perspective). In "new media art," there continue to be great possibilities for artistic and scientific collaboration, and maybe even a continued blurring of the boundaries between the two. Action, Reaction If artists do what scientists also do, namely take a tool and create something new with it, then the possibilities for "new media art" may enable artists to engage their audiences in the process of creation by, in turn, extending to the viewer the use of their tools. Where the kinetic art of the 1960s left audiences with a limited range of movement for the objects they could touch, technology has made possible a whole new world of interactivity. An artist can now create and define their artistic world—let's say one in which the rain that falls from the sky is made up of letters of the alphabet. Through the technology behind the art, the artist can pull the audience into the process of co-creation, letting them "catch" these raining letters and compose art of their own, within the world created by the artist. This may be "virtual," but it feels real, and for the viewer using their hands and arms to interact with the art, the boundaries between artist and audience, or between spectator and actor, might be—but the experience isn't. If that art work sounds fantastical (though it does, in fact, exist), remember that these types of virtual, artistic experiences are quite commonplace. The world of video games is about just that kind of interaction between artist-creator and audience, and the transfer of the brain-hand connection from the creator to the user. The history and continued life of the video game is contentious, and not dissimilar to that of the comic books; before Art Spiegelman's Maus, comic books were derided as connected to social deviancy, viewed as a threat by broader society; they were threatening because of their power, and yet considered to have no artistic value. Today, much the same is true for video games, where many creative minds (and millions of dollars) work together on developing elaborate, artistic, and yet highly technical environments—that are then delivered to audiences that create their own experiences through them. We may not think of these computer-driven worlds as "art"—but why not? Perhaps one reason is because we fear the interactivity that technology offers us, the audience-user. In "normal" programs like a word processor, the technology is seen as merely an aid, a tool, subject to the creative impulse of the user; the level of interactivity is seen as safe. In interactive art, however – whether comprised of catching falling letters or shooting alien demons—the normal rules (like those of a word processor) do not apply. This may explain the appeal of video games, and of "new media art" to the next generation of artists and audiences: the normal rules do not apply. Exotic worlds can be traversed and new experiences can be pursued through the clever, artistic deployment of technologies that blur the boundaries between artist and audience, and which may even defy—beyond the multiple printings of the signed lithograph—that whole idea of "ownership" of art. When a work of art (or a game) is accessible on the internet, the creator owns the ideas, but the product itself now belongs to the world. If all this seems threatening to museums, or other more traditional arts institutions, it's no wonder. But maybe, instead of being threatening, it should be enlivening. The way in which "new media art" challenges the audience isn't new at all; it is just a new take on the very old paradigm by which any artistic idea first challenges, and then is challenged by, both arts institutions and art-engaged audiences. The history of successful art—and science—is very much a history of rule breaking. "New media art" may affect these institutions, and audiences, but in the long run it can only have a positive effect on the entire idea of artistic supply and demand. For citation, please reference: http://berkshireconference.org/content/2006-multimedia.cfm
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