October 2012 Archives

The mechanical police officer is not doing his job

The mechanical police officer isn't doing his job. The traffic light, following Latour's ideas about non-human actors standing in for humans, is meant to be a mechanical police officer. It directs traffic, letting motorists, pedestrians, cyclists and other road users know when they may proceed and how. There is a particular mechanical police officer who is not doing his job adequately. He sits at a tricky intersection. This intersection has a new rule: in a city where right-hand turns are mostly allowable during red lights, this intersection prohibits them. To inform road users of the different rule, there is a sign. It is one of many at that particular crossing. It shows a symbol for a right-hand turn, crossed out with a red strike through a circle. Below, it shows a traffic light, with only the red circle filled in. Together, the two symbols are meant to show that a right-hand turn on a red signal is not allowed. The sign is an assistant to the mechanical police officer. But the two actors, together, are not enough to change habitual behaviour. Motorists still turn right during the red light, occasionally shaking their heads and gesturing in disbelief towards the row of stopped cars, each with turn signal flashing, but no one making its turn. So the mechanical police officer and his assistant, for now, are not doing their jobs fully. They try, but remain either unnoticed or ignored.

What's material about electronic art?

The computer on which the artist programs/designs/clicks/whatever.
The space which the artist occupies while doing the above.
The artist.
The materials that the artist uses to construct the instantiations of the work.
The gallery in which the art is shown.
If the art is shown on the internet instead of in a gallery, the computers on which the art is viewed.
The wires through which connectivity is conveyed.
The peripherals which are used to interact with the art.
The keyboard, the Wacom tablet, the mouse, the screen, the chair, the desk, the iPad, the cafe, the coffee, the friends and collaborators.
The EU or Canada Council (or whatever) grant, the artist-run centre, the guy who comes in to teach you how MAX works.
The production director who rejects your proposal because the centre doesn't have the necessary resources to execute your project.

Classifying Marmite

I like Marmite. I think it's good on toast. But it's not a particularly popular food in Canada, without anywhere near the name recognition it enjoys in the UK. It's certainly possible to get it in Canada, but in a slightly odd way. The Marmite label doesn't provide any clues about its intended uses. It doesn't happen to prominently mention that you actually can spread it on toast. It just calls itself "Yeast Extract" which is not a term that implies snacking.

Because of that term, "Yeast Extract," we get the Canadian supermarket problem. No one really knows what Marmite is for, except the people who eat it. So where does it get filed and shelved? With the other yeast, of course. Marmite turns up in the baking section instead of the spread section.

What we have in the case of Marmite is a material classification problem. Marmite, an object outside of its normal context, gets misplaced. Those looking for Marmite, who know it as a spread, are unable to find it among its fellows, the jams and nut butters. In the physical space of the supermarket, a decision must be made about where the Marmite is shelved. So it goes with the yeast. It is classified by name instead of use, like putting the tomato paste next to the toothpaste on the principle that pastes should go together. Marmite loses its chance at serendipitous or curious purchases.