"My Life As A Tank" [mp3 removed]
This is done with software synths: Linplug's Alpha 3 (trying it out--sadly it doesn't store settings any better than version 2 did); Oki Computer 2; Intakt (for the breakbeat). Title inspired by a post-human fantasy in Charles Stross' novel Glasshouse.
This is a rough-cut studio shot of my piece in the "Telefone Sem Fio" show. The art is an animated GIF based on pictograms from an older (late '90s/early '00s) web piece by Brazilian concrete poet Augusto De Campos. There's a web page version of the GIF but for the physical exhibition I made a DVD loop of the GIF to run on a CRT television monitor. Those monitors are already retro-exotic but they work well with certain GIFs. (Stronger color, etc.)
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Telephone journal
Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts
Lecture tomorrow (Friday Nov 11) on De Campos (will have to miss this unfortunately)
Just made a comment on Rhizome's post announcing its new feature The Download. Seems they forgot to mention that Ryder Ripps is offering all his Facebook data for download because he's quitting Facebook. This is all too convoluted to make much of a story but there is actually a journalistic nugget here.
Neither this post nor Joanne McNeil's paragraphs describing The Download mention that Ryder Ripps has deleted his Facebook account and this download of all his data is connected to that. That's kind of a big deal, especially since Ripps has been a Facebook love/hate supporter for some time. McNeil mentions that an artist named Kevin Bewersdorf deleted his data from his site once and murkily suggests that Ripps' The Download has something to do with that. This isn't even a case of "burying the lead"--hiding it, more like. But why?
All the best,
Tom Moody
It remains to be seen if this is a real Facebook resignation or one of those "that's it, I quit smoking today" moves. Regardless, in an absence of plausible reasons given for Ripps' Download as a work of art, you'd think it might be mentioned.
Update, a few days later: Am told that Ripps has reactivated his Facebook account. The precise, art historical term for this is "lame."
