I wrote a piece on city surveillance that has been published on the RTE Brainstorm website. It can be accessed here:
I shot this short film to promote my forthcoming book—The Machinic City: Media, Performance and Participation (Manchester University Press – Materialising the Digital Series). Referring to one of the iconic cities of Modernist Urban Planning—Brasilia—where I lived as a child, I describe how modernist cities were conceived as ‘machines for living’.
Furthermore, I offer an alternative interpretation for contemporary cities that envisions them as an assemblage of machines that includes the ‘abstract machine’ as an actant with inherent potential for change.
This film is divided in two parts. The first examines Brasilia as a ‘machine for living’ and the second part offers an alternative interpretation of the machine-city that I will elaborate in more detail in my book.
This film was shot entirely on a mobile phone (at 720p) with the internal microphone and only the odd scene shot with a tripod, so the quality is not great. I hope to eventually be able to produce a broadcast quality series based on this pilot project. Any feedback, comments and suggestions are very welcome!
And here is the link to Part 2:
A few weeks ago I attended the Tech Connect Live Expo in the RDS, an event that showcased business and technology small and medium enterprises in the multiple fields of digital media (virtual reality, blockchain, mobile technology, smart city, automation, search engine optimisation, etc.) Some of the talks during the event discussed well established areas of interest (such as search engine optimisation). Others focussed on trending topics that are due to group exponentially in the next few years, including virtual and augmented reality interfaces, the introduction of 5G mobile broadband services and the use of blockchain technologies for digital transactions.
This created an unacceptable latency, which had a heavy impact on the user experience of their customers, as usability guru Jakob Nielsen pointed out at the time in a review of the website. However, as Nielsen points out, the size of the website wasn’t the only issue. Customers had to deal with complex hierarchical menus, multiple window displays, and the minuscule space dedicated to display the products being sold alongside their text description. The bad user experience represented a form of usability latency, which I define as the unintentional delay to the user’s ability to execute tasks efficiently while interacting with digital interfaces due to poor usability design.
Nowadays, you would have to be very unlucky to come across the same type of user experience provided by Boo.com. The majority of content managements systems (CMS), web templates, mobile app design standards and web design software packages are heavily influenced by established user experience guidelines, which in turn have become as acceptable as the original blue underlined link of the 1990s. It is still possible to design a very bad user experience. However, it is more likely that this would be done as a form of alternative promotional marketing strategy, such as the insane looking (and legit car leasing business) LingsCars.com, where the functional content of the website is surrounded by a barrage of viral videos, memes, old school animated gifs, psychedelic backgrounds and embossed buttons.
Which brings us back to the main issue of latency in digital futures. Take for example the growing market of blockchain-based electronic money systems. One of the main issues, highlighted in a talk by an AIB Bank representative, is the delay involved in processing and checking each electronic transaction, which could take up to several minutes. One of the sponsors of the Tech Connect Live Expo—a digital coin exchange service provider called Coinex—boasted that it had a much quicker turnaround than the well-known Bitcoin, and therefor it would be more suitable for a broader range of transactions (such as face-to-face retail sales) than its rival Bitcoin.
Latency is also a major factor in mobile phone Internet transmission. Vodafone, the major sponsor of the Tech Connect Live Expo, was keen to promote the advent of 5G mobile data. The technical standards for 5G mobile specific that the latency shouldn’t be higher than 4 milliseconds, which is 5 times less than the 4G LTE standard. Low latency is crucial for real-time technologies to operate efficiently, such as teleconferencing and remote medical procedures.
Low latency is also crucial for the growing market of augmented and virtual reality. I stopped by a stand where a virtual reality company was promoting a virtual reality promotional experience designed for the United Nations. It aimed to immerse the user in an area of conflict in Africa. Such experiences depend on the suspension of disbelief, and even small degrees of latency can interfere with this experience.
In the near future, as digital experiences that depend on the transmission of large amounts of data—such as 4K video, visual reality and multiple player online gaming—become more widespread, and as networks become increasingly oversubscribed, the ability to control and minimise latency will be crucial. Like wise, the need to address usability latency will always be a necessary requisite by conforming to established design standards and most importantly, by focussing on the user experience.
After two intense days of presentations, endless coffee breaks and some lovely late night typical Portuguese food (organised by the conference hosts), I finally have time to reflect on what has been a very successful and enjoyable workshop. With a traditional conference format but with extended time for presentations and Q&A (30+15 minutes) and only two papers per panel, it generated debates and contrasting points of view. On the panel on authorship, for example, a traditional model of autonomy of the artist during the romantic period described by Antonio Machuco Rosa found its counterpart in Karl Flender’s paper on contemporary reappropriation of the literary format by digital technologies. Flender’s paper suggested that the author is an assemblage of computer programmer, bots and the unintended Internet log/commenter. Or in other words, the author is no longer fully autonomous and (on many occasions) can be described as a collective agent.
Some of the presentations incorporated performative events and practice-based interventions, such as Pip Thornton’s imaginative assemblage of poetry, receipt printing machines and Google AdWords marketing software to highlight the unforeseen consequences of attaching monetary value to singular words. Panos Kompatsiaris’s presentation on the super-star curator was not only informative but very entertaining, as he highlighted the struggle of star-curators to come up with overarching blurbs for the large scale art events that they are organising that satisfy all involved parties while also distinguishing themselves from any other event. As Panos notes, these blurbs usually begin with a negative statement, stating what they are not trying to achieve prior to stating what they seek to achieve. It goes without saying that such curators and their ‘aura’ are essential for enabling contemporary art to state its meaningfulness and achieve maximum monetary value in the (upmarket) art markets. Jeremy Swartz highlighted the importance of the role of the curator of multidisciplinary conferences/exhibitions to enable embodied aesthetic experiences and exchange of ideas across disciplines. This in turn provides a powerful platform to expose and confront the challenges of living in the Anthropocene era and (at least) reflect on its unsustainability.
My own paper—Probing the Machine-city Through Cinematic Narratives—is based on my main arguments and findings from my thesis, which I hope to eventually publish in a book format. Through an assemblage of urban studies, philosophy, (digital) media studies and sociology, I argue that participatory art (in the form of an emergent and collective performance in digitally mediated space) enables new aesthetic experiences that interfere with the (desired) efficiency and predictability of the machine-city, triggering both reflection and alternative ways of interacting with the city. My ethnographic study on Blast Theory’s A Machine To See With demonstrates the potential of cinematic narratives that draw from previous avant-garde art movements and artefacts, such as Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera. As Jussi Parikka noted during the Q&A, participatory art should be triggering reaction as much as reflection. Conference organiser Jose Gomes Pinto pointed out that the Situationists had achieved similar aims decades ago. However, it would be interesting to see what they would have done if they had iPhones; would they be opposed to them or instead would they hack their unforeseen potential as an artistic tool?. It reminded me of one of the best-known Situationist provocations: enabling people to turn on and off their street lights. Perhaps there is an app for that?…
The event closed with an enlightening presentation from keynote speaker Jussi Parikka on Multiple Futurisms: Imaginary Futures in Contemporary Art. Jussi highlighted the potential impact of emerging avant-garde contemporary media art forms that draw from past movements. I was delighted (and surprised) to see how Futurism found its way into contemporary urban environments in Africa and the Middle East. Through examples of glitch art, performative art interventions and original art/critique artefacts, Jussi exposed the potential of new ‘futurisms’ that are immersed in the chaotic ‘hyperness’ of largely unsustainable urban environments, such as the Middle East utopian dystopias built in no-one’s land to become inhabitable urban theme parks. For me, this is exciting (and scary) terrain, as it shows the potential of contemporary media art to expose, question and challenge these emerging urban forms, but also their potential to support them. As an example, Jussi showed us a video of a wealthy Arab performer/maverick riding a motorbike that seems to have come straight out of the original Tron movie while he waves at passersby and the camera that tracks him as he cruises the empty streets of a Middle East major city.
On Saturday, we all went out as a group for dinner and a few drinks. Our hosts brought us to a trendy area of Lisbon where we were fortunate enough to experience the clash between old and new: he first brought us to a small traditional ‘sports’ bar with an improvised bingo and loads of memorabilia. Then they brought us to Damas, a super-trendy bar where (if I am guessing right) Lisbon’s growing creative industries chill out and party. And to top it off, they brought us afterwards to Bar do Terraco, strategically positioned between an incredible panoramic view of downtown Lisbon and a monumental façade of a traditional Portuguese church building.
Lisbon is one of my favourite destinations in Europe, but thanks to our hosts Jose and Joana I was able to see it in a different light and be inspired to think of the future possibilities of my research on the mediated city as I enjoy the simple pleasure of a ‘derive’ through a fascinating city and its complex (and sometimes contradictory) environment.
To the hosts and organisers and to all the participants and newfound friends, I would like to say ‘muito obrigado e ate a proxima’! (Thanks very much and see you soon!).
MacGhillie by Knowbotiq – conference attendant taking part in the performance
How can we define urban art? Art that is performed in urban spaces? Art that questions, challenges and addresses urban issues? Or art that originates in the city and is distinctively urban? It is perhaps all of the above, but more importantly, urban art is about encounter. Performative and embodied encounter. It is about participation. It is also about uncertainty, awareness, reflection. It can trigger political action, social interaction, or play. Or it can just sit in the background, waiting for someone to wear it (see video above), trip on it (see video below), pick it up or sit on it.
Its outcome is contingent on the unpredictable agency of the city and the subjectivity of participants, who might interpret it in significantly different ways than envisioned by the artists or the institutions that have commissioned it. By moving outside of the controlled environment of art galleries and museums, it is subject to performative ‘failures’, although, as Judith Butler puts it, performance must fail, as the failures of performance can bring new affordances.
The reART:theURBAN conference showcased and discussed the many facets of urban art, including its discrepancies, missed potentials, contradictions and failures. During the open plenary, Charles Landry pondered why there is so much red public art around the world. Is it because it needs to make a point by ‘shouting out’ its purpose by standing out against the chaotic backdrop of the city? Can urban art not make its point discretely? After Landry’s talk, Erik Swyngedou highlighted the contradictions in the employment of urban art as a promotional tool for cities that market themselves as creative/sustainable/eco cities.
Swyngedou’s warning call can be seen here:
He replies to the question: “How can we bring divergent approaches to the table?” by arguing that it forces us to mistakenly think that we can actually all come together and agree in the city. Instead, we must understand the city’s most important quality as being exactly the ability to cater for an assemblage of individuals with divergent opinions, desires and ways of living. IN this case it is worth pondering the following question: how does the city support the development of the commons through urban art without succumbing to the rhetoric of the ‘cultural city’?
Rimini Protokoll’s 100% Zurich, performed during the conference, attempts to sketch out such commons in a two hour performance: 100 citizens on stage representing a statistical selection of the population of Zurich take part in a staged performance that shines a torch on the city through a lens that highlights its people and their ways of living rather than the infrastructure fabric. These ‘experts of the everyday’ tell their individual and collective stories, opinions and wishes through a semi-rehearsed performance, while multiple questions are posed to the 100 members, who scramble around the circular stage (that doubles as a sort of giant whiteboard filmed from above) to indicate statistically their answers. At one point, the narrative states: “We are a body with 100 heads”. This statement summarises the role of the city as a stage for a commons through dissensus, according to Swyngedou’s argument.
Slavoj Zizek’s keynote lecture – When Art is Dangerous – also questioned the totalitarian aim of the cultural city rhetoric. During his entertaining and engaging talk, Zizek elaborated on the ‘poetic military complex’. He argues that “authentic poetry, authentic art is used in crimes of poetic military ideology”. He referred to the justification of crimes against humanity through the use of poetic rhetoric – from Hitler via Karadzic to contemporary African dictators. The poetic military complex. These crimes, according to Zizek, are perpetrated through the use of language as a totalitarian weapon. Instead, he argues, “language should be tortured to tell the truth” so that poetry can be redeemed. He mentioned as an example Eisenstein and his ‘torturing of language through montage’.
I think Zizek’s point must be taken seriously especially when the focus on technology as effect/technique/theme in urban art foregrounds spectacle and an action/interaction effect molded on cybernetic predictability that affects participation, the important role of embodiment and reflection. It is a refreshing challenge to the myth of unimpeded information flows that help us find our way in the ‘concrete jungle’, (think Robocop, Minority Report, Google glasses…), or, as Katherine Hayles puts it, the belief that, in our posthuman condition, the body is redundant. Zizek’s point sheds a light on the need to be less prescriptive on the outcomes of urban art and forgo the rhetoric of cultural city in favour of a multiplicity of participatory modes and of foregrounding embodiment.
A better understanding of the multiple ways in which participants engage with urban art helps to overcome the urge to categorise it and pre-define its outcome as political, leisure, social. While many projects might have a specific agenda to start of with, the outcome is always unpredictable. I agree with Hilke Berger’s argument in her presentation about participation during here talk at the conference: “citizens attach their own value to things”.
A work of urban art can be interpreted in many different way by participants. During his inspiring and innovative presentation, artist Manos Tsangaris argued that “the urban is inside of us”, and that “if art says: I have to do this for x-reason, it fails”. According to him, we must focus on the punctum, the ‘leaping point’. Or in other words, we must pay close attention to sudden moments of displacement, of social potential, of renewal of what the term ‘urban’ stands for.
One of the highlights of the conference for me was taking part in a workshop on Urban Games ran by Jakob La Cour and Sebastian Quack. Through an iteration process, we adapted and played two ‘urban games’: Surveillance Roulette and Tetris Smuggling. Surveillance Roulette consisted of a typical roulette game where, instead of gambling on numbers, participants bet on the future actions of selected passers-by entering the designated space. In Tetris Smuggling, two competing teams had to recruit passers-by smuggle physical representations of the pieces of the famous electronic game into a designated security space and attach the pieces to a magnetic surface while avoiding two security guards patrolling the space.
Both games are remarkably simple, cheap to reproduce (no digital devices involved) and cleverly draw in passers-by into the game playing by reinterpreting traditional games (roulette and Tetris) and situating them in an unfamiliar space (transport hubs, bars) in a simple but challenging way. They raised questions about participation. Some participants felt uncomfortable engaging strangers to ‘smuggle’ pieces of Tetris past the ‘security personnel’ (a participant with a bright green safety vest). Passers-by were drawn into both games with unexpected results. During the enactment of the Surveillance Roulette game, many passers-by realised they were being observed and were puzzled by the excitement on the table inside the conferences bar where participants were assembled around the improvised roulette table. Sebastian and Jakob argues that urban games can “make you more aware of other participants” and to “observe and learn more about space”.
One of the important outcomes of these games is to allow adults to engage with urban space in a playful way, outside of everyday life routines. But they also fulfill other important roles, and therefore categorising them simply as playful interactions does not do them full justice. Through rule discussion, play and post-game analysis, the potential of embodied participation and reflection triggers disagreements that must be worked out through a democratic process. Therefore a temporary commons emerges through participatory dissensus.
La Cour and Quack’s workshop summarises what I liked most about the reART:the URBAN conference: it reassures me of the importance of participation in the creative re-appropriation of everyday urban spaces where the outcome is open, rather than an attempt to narrow the focus of urban art towards pre-defined categories (social, political, cultural, play) or prescriptive outcomes.
This, I think is an approach that can help us avoid the use of art, in Zizek’s words towards “providing an aesthetic screen to make us blind and indifferent”.
This my first blog post in my Performative Object Series. Although performativity in public space is always triggered by a combination of several actors/actants (both human and non-human), I thought it would be an interesting exercise to depart from a singular object and think of how it is inserted into public space, triggering disjunctions, generating new awareness, re-purposing space and suggesting new social connections.
Object Description: very compact mass-produced (plastic mould) skateboard (fits into any standard gym lockers) with soft, wide, rubbery wheels and a plastic deck. Can do tight turns and is a fun way of getting from A to B as long as the sidewalk is in a reasonable condition. Can support a rider of up to 80 kg. Very sturdy and usually comes in screaming neon colours. Looks like a kids toy, but can propel bigger, unashamed adults to bone-breaking speeds if used indiscriminately. If used in moderation, provides great fun and might even keep you relatively fit.
Cost: about 100 euro in shops, cheaper online.
Wow factor: 7 out of 10, higher if ridden by an adult of above average and long feet, as it looks like said adult might have stolen it from their kid/nephew. Even higher if you opt for screaming neon colours.
So, the first object in this series is an ’80’s style’ plastic skateboard. For those unfamiliar with the whole skateboard scene, these are mass produced skateboards that were quite common during the 80’s. If you were a kid in those days, you would have come across one of these amongst Rubrik cubes, Atari consoles, chopper bikes, etc. (OK, I’ll leave the nostalgia aside now). A form of zombie object/toy (to borrow from the concept of zombie media), it has been resurrected and is slowly making itself known across pavements in cities worldwide.
I saw one of them on a YouTube video about a year ago, and, as a semi-retired (and unskillful) skateboarder, I wanted to buy one for a while. A year later, I saw a kid whizzing around one of them in the streets of New York during a holiday break. I finally got hold of one in a Downtown skate shop. The owner of the shop shouted out to me as I left the shop: “If you are getting it for your kid, make sure you have a go yourself!”. I refrained out of embarrassment to reply: “No, it is actually for myself!”
I’ve been using it for a few months now. It comes in very handy to go to the local supermarket, and sometimes to my office or into town. It usually halves the time it would take me to get anywhere, and it is not too bulky or heavy, so I can carry it in one hand or store it in my gym locker or under my office desk. I get some odd looks when I’m out, partly because there aren’t yet many of them going around, partly because people would rather expect to see a teenager riding one.
How does it re-purpose public space? First of all, it raises my awareness of the quality and maintenance of Dublin’s sidewalks. There are some great surfaces around town, and my favourite is one that has a very discrete texture, making a very low pitch whizzing sound and seems to be even faster than perfectly smooth surfaces (or maybe it’s just my imagination). I notice any cracks in the sidewalk and keep an eye out for small stones that might stop the skateboard in its tracks. Nearer the city centre, it becomes unpleasant to ride due to the crowds, so I just carry it. I also look out for slight degrees of steepness, so I can practice going downhill without going too fast and doing snappy carving turns that remind me of surfing. During the few moments when you are not looking down for obstacles, your eyes act like a camera on a tripod filming the fast moving vehicles, building and people whizzing past you.
But what is most interesting is the fact that skateboards don’t have a designated place in the pecking order of transportation systems. The streets are too fast (unless you are a kamikaze rider), and even the bike lanes are too fast (unless they are empty). And on the sidewalks, you are the one going too fast. However, this is exactly what makes it more interesting and fun: you have to choose the right path at the right time. In my own experience, I end up mixing all of the above, with a preference for smooth and empty sidewalks and bike lanes. So far, perhaps because skateboarding is not as prominent in Dublin as, say, New York, there are no strict bye-laws governing where you can ride. And why would there need to be any fixed rules, as long as skateboard riders respect the space of pedestrians and other modes of transport?
Summing up, the ’80’s style’ plastic skateboard is a fun, toy/transport device that creates its own performative space through the city and fits in neatly with the push to cut down on motorised transport. It is certainly not for everyone, and there are basic skills that need to be learned to ‘operate’ one (easy when you’ve done it as a kid, but you’re never too old!). But gliding through the city on one of them is an enjoyable and relatively easygoing way of getting around while having fun.
Yesterday I attended a workshop in the Science Gallery in Dublin about the Green Watch Programme, a joint initiative from the Dublin City Council, Trinity College and Intel. The main idea of the programme is to tackle waste in the city through a participatory mobile phone app with a focus on four key areas: water waste, air pollution, green initiatives and litter. As a Dublin City Council representative pointed out, the mobile phone penetration in Dublin is approximately 48%, so it makes sense to create an app that engages citizens to adopt waste prevention behaviours (he did point out that the remaining 52% can be reached through other ways).
The idea taps into the concept of smart, sustainable cities and crowdsourcing. While the project researchers have through about deploying wired and wireless sensors to capture data, they have pointed out that these need electricity, maintenance, and can be costly, while using citizen’s smartphones to sense the environment makes…sense.
During the workshop, in which we were expected to contribute ideas after being introduced to the project, questions were raised about how to engage citizens and what would they benefit from contributing information. The workshop organisers were keen on brainstorming issues of waste across the city. There were many suggestions put forward, such as: unblocking drains, identifying location of recycling black spots, identifying community garden projects (and coordinating volunteers for these), and several others. It remains to be seen how citizens might actively engage in such initiatives and what would be there reasons for doing so. Personal interest? The urge to socialise? Guilt?
One after-thought I had was that the targets of combating waste and engaging citizens can be linked in certain ways. I though specifically of time-wasting (an immaterial form of waste) on online social networks. While many forms of material waste are quite obvious, online time-wasting is a grey area (there are certainly many positive things to be said of online social networking). How can you measure online time-wasting ? Does it eventually translate into physical waste eventually (electricity needs, access to remote data from database centres)?
Instead of harvesting little farms on Facebook’s Farmville app, for example, users could spend time harvesting (real) mini-farms across the city. Perhaps the trick is to make the app as ‘fun’ and engaging as Farmville (et al.). Less time online, more exercise, the opportunity to harvest your produce (rather than spend money on virtual goods to harvest a virtual farm in exchange for virtual scores), and the opportunity to meet your elusive neighbours. Or maybe the solution is somewhere in-between , such linking the ability to score online points and build online ‘wealth’ to your physical efforts in the ‘real’ mini-farm.
If we consider the mind-boggling success of Ian Bogost’s Cow Clicker , perhaps the middle ground approach is the only way to go forward. Gamification with a purpose?