In 1997, I liked the internet because it let me stay up until 3 a.m. on school nights, talking to people I couldn't sneak out to see. In 2000, I liked the internet because it let me listen to songs I wouldn't hear anywhere else. In 2003, I liked the internet because it helped me find sources for academic essays I wouldn't necessarily find through bibliographic references; in 2004 I liked the internet because it told me where I was supposed to be at 7 o'clock.
In 2006, I liked the internet because it occasionally earned rent. In 2007 I liked the internet because it helped me find the photo projects I became increasingly obsessed with finding. In 2008 I stopped knowing if I liked the internet or if it had just become the new virtual organ of the world, like Stelarc's robatic third arm
In 2009 I ceased to question, in 2010, I tried to escape, in 2011, I believed that in the end it would turn us all into conspiracists. We're approaching the end of the world, supposedly, at the end of December, so it's possible there will be no opinions to be had, on the internet, on the internet.
My favorite Tumblr blog is Nevver.com, by Peter Peteski, which uploads film stills with uncorrelated MP3 tracks.
A book I liked in 2006 was Still Moving by Steven Higgins (MoMA; 2006).
If film stills are their own art, like stop-motion is its own art on the opposite end of the cage, it's the art of taking the instant out of a narrative, and reconceptualizing it beyond the narrative. I like Peteski's blog because he takes that film moment out of its context but also gives it a new soundtrack. He makes two unrelated works of art into their own, independent, multidimensional (if virtual) reality.
The issue of reproducing artwork across mediums comes up in media more as a case of rights-issues (such as Shepard Fairey and the Hope poster conflict). The reality of it for many, in our Stelarc third-arm virtual universe, is that art's availability in a medium we now put our work in (virtual), allows us to display that work in a way that directly relates to art's contact.
I still obsessively seek out photography on the internet, and today I found an Adirondacks-region photographer named Nathan Farb, who has a series, "Summer of Love," shot in b&w mostly here on the EV/LES in the '60s:
Nathan Farb
I found his work because I went onto youTube to find a song that I felt like listening to, because I didn't have my iPod on me:
(Farb allows download of his images for computer desktop images, so I'm going to be looking at the Fat Lady of Avenue C for awhile when I wake up in the morning.)
His series is looking for a publisher, and I hope he finds one. His capture of downtown Manhattan is all odd moments, like Eno's song is itself an odd moment; having them put together (multidimensional reality) makes it feel, in a personal way, more alive.
Still checking the internet [until 2012, obviously, when it all becomes conspiracy.]
