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The Creative Independent: How to make a website for your creative work
"A guide to getting your work on the internet so you can share it with others, written by Jason Huff and illustrated by Sean Suchara."



"If you’re a creative person living in the world today, people will expect to be able to find some examples of your work online. How you choose to put it there, though, is completely up to you.

I got started on the web in the early aughts when I created a gallery for my creative work. I call it a gallery because it was just that: a blank space with images in a row that linked to some projects I wanted to share with friends. Since then my site has evolved, disappeared, come back, and spawned other sites that express my ideas and identity online. Each evolution was a chance to share new work in a way that reflected how I wanted people to experience it.

I work on the web everyday. I help designers, artists, and galleries discover and create their online presence. And for seven years, I designed and led teams at Etsy, a platform that helps millions of creative humans around the world use the web to make an income from their craft. In all of my work, I’ve learned that every person brings their own body of knowledge and point of view when they create their own space online. The unique approaches that each individual brings to the experience are what make the internet an interesting place to explore.

Before digging into this guide, I recommend reading Laurel Schwulst’s essay, My website is a shifting house next to a river of knowledge. What could yours be? It’s a great sister piece to this more practical guide, and provides many poetic explorations of the website format. Like Laurel mentions in her essay, “Artists excel at creating worlds.” I hope this guide will help you start creating yours.

— Jason Huff"
webdesign  webdev  howto  websites  seansuchara  jasonhuff  art  glvo  projectideas  laurelschwulst  morehshinallahyari  petracortright  americanartist  ingridburrington  damonzucconi  jennyodell  seokhoonchoi  tomjennings  carlyayres 
january 2019 by robertogreco
No one’s coming. It’s up to us. – Dan Hon – Medium
"Getting from here to there

This is all very well and good. But what can we do? And more precisely, what “we”? There’s increasing acceptance of the reality that the world we live in is intersectional and we all play different and simultaneous roles in our lives. The society of “we” includes technologists who have a chance of affecting the products and services, it includes customers and users, it includes residents and citizens.

I’ve made this case above, but I feel it’s important enough to make again: at a high level, I believe that we need to:

1. Clearly decide what kind of society we want; and then

2. Design and deliver the technologies that forever get us closer to achieving that desired society.

This work is hard and, arguably, will never be completed. It necessarily involves compromise. Attitudes, beliefs and what’s considered just changes over time.

That said, the above are two high level goals, but what can people do right now? What can we do tactically?

What we can do now

I have two questions that I think can be helpful in guiding our present actions, in whatever capacity we might find ourselves.

For all of us: What would it look like, and how might our societies be different, if technology were better aligned to society’s interests?

At the most general level, we are all members of a society, embedded in existing governing structures. It certainly feels like in the recent past, those governing structures are coming under increasing strain, and part of the blame is being laid at the feet of technology.

One of the most important things we can do collectively is to produce clarity and prioritization where we can. Only by being clearer and more intentional about the kind of society we want and accepting what that means, can our societies and their institutions provide guidance and leadership to technology.

These are questions that cannot and should not be left to technologists alone. Advances in technology mean that encryption is a societal issue. Content moderation and censorship are a societal issue. Ultimately, it should be for governments (of the people, by the people) to set expectations and standards at the societal level, not organizations accountable only to a board of directors and shareholders.

But to do this, our governing institutions will need to evolve and improve. It is easier, and faster, for platforms now to react to changing social mores. For example, platforms are responding in reaction to society’s reaction to “AI-generated fake porn” faster than governing and enforcing institutions.

Prioritizations may necessarily involve compromise, too: the world is not so simple, and we are not so lucky, that it can be easily and always divided into A or B, or good or not-good.

Some of my perspective in this area is reflective of the schism American politics is currently experiencing. In a very real way, America, my adoptive country of residence, is having to grapple with revisiting the idea of what America is for. The same is happening in my country of birth with the decision to leave the European Union.

These are fundamental issues. Technologists, as members of society, have a point of view on them. But in the way that post-enlightenment governing institutions were set up to protect against asymmetric distribution of power, technology leaders must recognize that their platforms are now an undeniable, powerful influence on society.

As a society, we must do the work to have a point of view. What does responsible technology look like?

For technologists: How can we be humane and advance the goals of our society?

As technologists, we can be excited about re-inventing approaches from first principles. We must resist that impulse here, because there are things that we can do now, that we can learn now, from other professions, industries and areas to apply to our own. For example:

* We are better and stronger when we are together than when we are apart. If you’re a technologist, consider this question: what are the pros and cons of unionizing? As the product of a linked network, consider the question: what is gained and who gains from preventing humans from linking up in this way?

* Just as we create design patterns that are best practices, there are also those that represent undesired patterns from our society’s point of view known as dark patterns. We should familiarise ourselves with them and each work to understand why and when they’re used and why their usage is contrary to the ideals of our society.

* We can do a better job of advocating for and doing research to better understand the problems we seek to solve, the context in which those problems exist and the impact of those problems. Only through disciplines like research can we discover in the design phase — instead of in production, when our work can affect millions — negative externalities or unintended consequences that we genuinely and unintentionally may have missed.

* We must compassionately accept the reality that our work has real effects, good and bad. We can wish that bad outcomes don’t happen, but bad outcomes will always happen because life is unpredictable. The question is what we do when bad things happen, and whether and how we take responsibility for those results. For example, Twitter’s leadership must make clear what behaviour it considers acceptable, and do the work to be clear and consistent without dodging the issue.

* In America especially, technologists must face the issue of free speech head-on without avoiding its necessary implications. I suggest that one of the problems culturally American technology companies (i.e., companies that seek to emulate American culture) face can be explained in software terms. To use agile user story terminology, the problem may be due to focusing on a specific requirement (“free speech”) rather than the full user story (“As a user, I need freedom of speech, so that I can pursue life, liberty and happiness”). Free speech is a means to an end, not an end, and accepting that free speech is a means involves the hard work of considering and taking a clear, understandable position as to what ends.

* We have been warned. Academics — in particular, sociologists, philosophers, historians, psychologists and anthropologists — have been warning of issues such as large-scale societal effects for years. Those warnings have, bluntly, been ignored. In the worst cases, those same academics have been accused of not helping to solve the problem. Moving on from the past, is there not something that we technologists can learn? My intuition is that post the 2016 American election, middle-class technologists are now afraid. We’re all in this together. Academics are reaching out, have been reaching out. We have nothing to lose but our own shame.

* Repeat to ourselves: some problems don’t have fully technological solutions. Some problems can’t just be solved by changing infrastructure. Who else might help with a problem? What other approaches might be needed as well?

There’s no one coming. It’s up to us.

My final point is this: no one will tell us or give us permission to do these things. There is no higher organizing power working to put systemic changes in place. There is no top-down way of nudging the arc of technology toward one better aligned with humanity.

It starts with all of us.

Afterword

I’ve been working on the bigger themes behind this talk since …, and an invitation to 2017’s Foo Camp was a good opportunity to try to clarify and improve my thinking so that it could fit into a five minute lightning talk. It also helped that Foo Camp has the kind of (small, hand-picked — again, for good and ill) influential audience who would be a good litmus test for the quality of my argument, and would be instrumental in taking on and spreading the ideas.

In the end, though, I nearly didn’t do this talk at all.

Around 6:15pm on Saturday night, just over an hour before the lightning talks were due to start, after the unconference’s sessions had finished and just before dinner, I burst into tears talking to a friend.

While I won’t break the societal convention of confidentiality that helps an event like Foo Camp be productive, I’ll share this: the world felt too broken.

Specifically, the world felt broken like this: I had the benefit of growing up as a middle-class educated individual (albeit, not white) who believed he could trust that institutions were a) capable and b) would do the right thing. I now live in a country where a) the capability of those institutions has consistently eroded over time, and b) those institutions are now being systematically dismantled, to add insult to injury.

In other words, I was left with the feeling that there’s nothing left but ourselves.

Do you want the poisonous lead removed from your water supply? Your best bet is to try to do it yourself.

Do you want a better school for your children? Your best bet is to start it.

Do you want a policing policy that genuinely rehabilitates rather than punishes? Your best bet is to…

And it’s just. Too. Much.

Over the course of the next few days, I managed to turn my outlook around.

The answer, of course, is that it is too much for one person.

But it isn’t too much for all of us."
danhon  technology  2018  2017  johnperrybarlow  ethics  society  calltoaction  politics  policy  purpose  economics  inequality  internet  web  online  computers  computing  future  design  debchachra  ingridburrington  fredscharmen  maciejceglowski  timcarmody  rachelcoldicutt  stacy-marieishmael  sarahjeong  alexismadrigal  ericmeyer  timmaughan  mimionuoha  jayowens  jayspringett  stacktivism  georginavoss  damienwilliams  rickwebb  sarawachter-boettcher  jamebridle  adamgreenfield  foocamp  timoreilly  kaitlyntiffany  fredturner  tomcarden  blainecook  warrenellis  danhill  cydharrell  jenpahljka  robinray  noraryan  mattwebb  mattjones  danachisnell  heathercamp  farrahbostic  negativeexternalities  collectivism  zeyneptufekci  maciejcegłowski 
february 2018 by robertogreco
Werner Herzog Taps into the Humanity of the Internet
"At this point, it seems like Herzog has to be knowingly participating in his own memes of production. He’s certainly aware of people using him in memes: in a video over at The Daily Beast in which he analyzes Kanye West’s “Famous,” he observes that “there’s a lot of doppelgängers pretending to be me, trying to speak in my accent, my voice, answering things on Facebook, on Twitter. It’s all impostors.” In that same video, he describes storytelling as the art of telling one narrative while simultaneously in pursuit of a “parallel story that only occurs in the collective mind of the audience.” The parallel story I found myself faced with while watching Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World, Herzog’s most recent documentary, was one of taking a subject readily dismissed with memetic shorthand (the internet) and exploring its deeper, weirder truths. As in many of his other films, the subject matter is paradoxically both crucial and incidental: Lo and Behold is a film about the internet in the same way that Fitzcarraldo is about an opera house, or Grizzly Man is about some guy who really liked bears. Herzog makes films about humans trying to actualize dreams — about people in pursuit of something far greater than themselves, and the contradictions and calamities endured in that pursuit.

In Lo and Behold, he at times goes for breadth over depth, providing fairly superficial context for topics as far-flung as internet history, radiation sickness, game addiction, artificial intelligence, cyberwarfare, and the Internet of Things. Herzog treats his interview subjects (who range from legends of internet history to recovering gaming addicts to cosmologists studying deep space) to disarmingly intimate questions about the ambitions of technology, such as “Does the internet dream of itself?” Intermittently he ruminates on malevolent dwarves and fantasizes about a Chicago emptied of humans by a successful SpaceX mission to Mars (a sequence that made me long for a Herzog documentary about the internet that veers deeper into the kind of illuminating absurdity he pulled off so beautifully in Lessons of Darkness — what would a post-apocalyptic, sci-fi history of the internet look and sound like, and could anyone but Herzog pull it off?).

It’s in the midst of these weird ruminations, as well as the more polished invective, that it’s hard to believe Herzog isn’t in on the joke of his own memeification. There is little in this world as satisfying as listening to Werner Herzog express disgust at or disdain for something — and little as unnerving, as his loathing often suggests a way of living few are capable of pulling off. When Herzog declares the hallways of UCLA’s Boelter Hall “repulsive” before entering the college’s weird shrine to the “birthplace of the internet,” the audience doesn’t laugh because the hallway is perfectly fine — we laugh because we have no better way to contend with the idea of living a life in such uncompromising pursuit of what Herzog calls “ecstatic truth” that an uninspiring hallway can inspire revulsion. It’s also, frankly, far easier and more entertaining to formulaically imitate Herzogian disgust than Herzogian joy: just insert the words “agony,” “murder,” or “unbearable cruelty of the universe” into a sentence, deliver with flat Bavarian intensity, and boom! You’ve invoked all the signifiers of Herzog without having to contend with the actual strangeness or complexity of his oeuvre (she typed, after renewing the domain name wernerherzogvalentines.com).

Some of the most compelling aspects of Lo and Behold aren’t Herzog providing tweetable, nihilistic soundbites, however; they’re moments that showcase the deep generosity and compassion that the filmmaker affords many of his subjects. For example, the victims of radio sensitivity (people made physically ill by cell phone and wifi signals) that Herzog meets in the National Radio Quiet Zone are granted a degree of dignity and kindness that, it’s clear in interviews, they were rarely offered while living in our hypermediated world. Herzog even elicits compassion for figures I might otherwise have been hard-pressed to find redeeming. In one sequence, he juxtaposes astronomer Lucianne Walkowicz’s devastating critique of Mars exploration with an immediate cut to a silent, sullen-looking Elon Musk. It would have been easy to let that zinger stand, but instead, after a long silence, the tech billionaire and SpaceX founder proceeds to respond to an unheard question about his dreams, confessing that he “only remembers the nightmares.” In that moment, Musk briefly ceases to be the cartoonish Bond villain I typically take him for and reveals himself as just another vulnerable, terrified man trying to build something greater than himself in a world that he clearly suspects is too far gone for salvation.

There are a few chapters of the film that touch on doomsday anxieties and depression at the cruelties of humanity — a story about the unspeakable cruelty of online mobs, discussion of the possibility of a solar flare destroying all human communication systems, a look at the threats of cyber warfare and the inherent insecurity of the network — but they’re presented not as cautions against a networked world so much as the grave realities of it. We continue to live in and build a networked world in spite of all those harms and threats — in spite of not knowing what benefits actually emerge from, say, building football-playing robots capable of defeating a FIFA World Cup champion. When Herzog asks Joydeep Biswas, the Carnegie Mellon student working on those football-playing robots, if he loves one of the particularly talented machines, Biswas’s sincere, enthusiastic “yes” isn’t really played for laughs, any more than the film’s closing sequence of residents in the National Radio Quiet Zone enjoying the simpler pleasures of their offline community. It’s by diving into that very human in spite of that Herzog reminds me why his disdainful bon mots are more hopeful and more generous than he’s often given credit for, and where the film offers some of its more compelling observations."
wernerherzog  internet  film  2016  ingridburrington  documentary  dignity  kindness  elonmusk  humanity  humans 
september 2016 by robertogreco
Networks Land
[via: https://twitter.com/lifewinning/status/714446710827847680 ]

"Hello!

This website is a collection of educational activities and material explaining how the internet works, at levels that generally don’t get thoroughly covered in introductions to the internet. The activities are designed to mostly take place offline using physical objects, field trips, and games.

Who is this for?

Technically, this material is for anyone who doesn’t totally understand how the internet works, but that kind of just means almost everyone in the world (including us!). We developed this material for audiences between 11 and 14, focusing on that age range for the following reasons:

• if it worked with that age range it could probably scale up
• we wanted to work with students just young enough to be unfamiliar with a world before the internet, but just old enough to be capable of considering more complex critical questions
• middle schoolers are just the absolute best. (except when they’re the absolute worst.)

That being said, while we had a totally great time workshopping these activities with students, a lot of the material on this site is for the educators who might use this material. That’s why in addition to the actual descriptions of the activities, we have reference sections that go into further detail than the activities themselves.

How did we develop this material?

This project is the result of a Knight Prototype Fund grant received in summer 2015. We workshopped this material in workshops coordinated with the Point Arena Technology Center in Point Arena, CA, at the Radical Networks conference in New York, and with the afterschool program LeAP at MS 51 in Brooklyn, New York.

The original name of our grant was Network Geography 101. We’re not really sure Networks Land is a better name, but, well, the domain was available. Naming things is tricky. We welcome better suggestions.

And why exactly are you doing this?

In the United States, there’s a growing understanding that internet access is a basic necessity for living in a modern society. It’s where jobs are sought, where bills are paid, where relationships form, where content is consumed, and where memes are rendered dank.

With this in mind, more and more organizations and institutions have embarked on campaigns and development of curricula for “digital literacy” or “code literacy”, tools and resources to get the newly online comfortable and savvy with the network.

For the most part, these initiatives focus on the experience of the web–what a browser is, how to search for information, how to make an email address. Sometimes digital literacy education gets into maintaining security and privacy with living online, and sometimes it’s an on-ramp for teaching people how to code.

This is all well and good for making people feel comfortable manipulating interfaces on a screen (and yes, that’s the majority of what coding education looks like too, fight me), but very rarely does digital literacy education get into what’s happening behind and beyond the screen. Where does that information loaded from Google actually live? How does it travel from that location to my computer? Who owns all this stuff?

There is something missing between digital literacy and code literacy. That something is mostly made of objects.

While the wireless signals that connect a user to the internet may be imperceptible to the human eye, the cables, antennas, data centers, and other physical objects that make up the internet aren’t. They are, however, easy to ignore and increasingly obscured in explaining how the internet works. Similarly, the mechanisms of governance and ownership of the network aren’t entirely hidden from public view, but they are often relegated as “impractical” knowledge much like the physical infrastructure. Understanding ICANN or where “the cloud” lives won’t help you navigate a website or learn to write code.

This attitude is a problem. When neither a computer scientist nor an eleven-year-old can coherently articulate how, on a tangible level, data travels through the internet or who owns the top-level domain my website uses, that’s a problem. When the internet is understood only through its screen components, it’s reduced to a dystopic interface for absorbing content and involuntarily feeding advertising engines.

“With every receding seam, from cable to code, comes a techno-political risk. Without edges we cannot know where we are and nor through whom we speak.”

(Julian Oliver, “Stealth Infrastructure”)

The point is, the internet is an increasingly crucial component of how people throughout the world live their lives. Understanding the systems and infrastructure that make the internet function, from the levels of protocol, physical objects, and governance isn’t necessarily going to make a generation of better programmers and it isn’t going to make anyone better at using a browser. But you don’t need to be a plumber to appreciate understanding how the sewer system works, and you don’t need to be in Congress to benefit from understanding how government works. Understanding systems and infrastructural elements is a useful part of being an informed human being and a useful thing to know when trying to figure out if and how those systems could change or are changing.

Who Worked On This?

This material was developed by Ingrid Burrington and Surya Mattu, who both live in New York and do weird things at Data and Society Research Institute. We had some amazing design assistance from Disk Cactus, an excellent studio of excellent humans based in Oakland, CA.

This website lives on Github."
classideas  internet  curriculum  education  infrastructure  immaterials  ingridburrington  suryamattu 
march 2016 by robertogreco
An Inside Look at a Facebook Data Center - The Atlantic
"As we wrap up the tour, I finally ask a question I've been holding back all day, partly from embarrassment and partly because I expect they’ll say no. “So we have this quadcopter,” I start.

In quite possibly the weirdest near-future moment of my life, we are immediately given an answer, and it is so precise it suggests that it's an answer they've had to give before. We are told that it's totally OK to fly the drone over and around the data center we just toured, but if we go anywhere near the currently under construction parts, we will get in trouble. The construction company, they apologetically note, has a pretty strict drone policy. Later, I try to imagine the business meeting where Facebook and their contractor carefully compared drone policies. I hate the future.

[video: https://vimeo.com/146188260 ]

From this distance the scale of the data-center campus, with the just completed Phase 2 building and power substation in the background, suddenly becomes a lot more legible, and with it Facebook’s larger position in the scheme of the network. The Internet is a massive technology built on top of and piggybacking on past massive technologies, both legacy and living. Looking at the Altoona data center from a distance, I considered the extent to which Facebook is less and less a website on the Internet and more and more a telecommunications paradigm unto itself, piggybacking off of the Internet. It is as much a part of the Internet as the Internet was part of the telephone system in the days of dialup.

And this is maybe why Facebook’s forced empathy feels so uncomfortable—as a company, it continues to make decisions that suggest an assumption that Facebook isn’t so much part of the Internet as it is the natural next evolution of it. Some of its efforts intended to be in the service of a free and open Internet have at times seemed more in the service of a free and open Facebook. Instant Articles is great for improving article loads times, but it also means that users never have to leave the confines of Facebook.

Internet.org promises to connect the world, but its initial rollout in India was heavily criticized as undermining principles of net neutrality by favoring specific companies and platforms—still connecting the world, maybe, but mostly connecting the world to Facebook. To their credit, Facebook responded to this criticism by opening the Internet.org platform (awkwardly rebranded as Free Basics) to third-party developers in May of this year, although in editorials written since then Zuckerberg has defended the program as never really antithetical to net neutrality.

While Facebook taken at its best intentions doesn’t make a distinction between access to Facebook and access to the Internet, many users apparently already do. And this matters, because the kind of agency, creativity, and innovation a user has on the open Internet is very, very different from the kind that she has on Facebook.

This isn’t to say that the Internet is going to be wholly replaced by Facebook any more than the Internet “replaced” phones. We still use phones. But the Internet and the many sea changes it engendered (like smartphones) ultimately transformed a lot of the underlying fabric and infrastructure of phones to the point where it’s actually pretty hard to use a phone without also technically using the Internet, and damn near impossible to find a phone that’s actually attached to a landline.

Facebook has all the technical infrastructure and insight to become that underlying fabric of the network as we know it, harder and harder to work around. For me, for now, not being on Facebook is more inconvenience than life-altering hindrance—at its most annoying, it means I’ve sealed my spinster fate because I can’t make a Tinder account (luckily, I already have a heart of ice and refuse love at every turn). But my war-zone reporter friend pretty much can’t do her job without it, and it’s taken as a given that the News Feed algorithm dictates the kind of traffic that her stories, and my stories, receive. And if a patent acquired by Facebook in August 2015 is any indication, in the future not having a Facebook account could shape my credit score.

This isn’t to say that Facebook is doing something terrible to Internet infrastructure—OCP has been incredibly good for Internet infrastructure. Wind farms are good for Internet infrastructure. Facebook is doing really amazing, innovative work from and through their data centers, where the people who work there don’t mind reporters who are 20 minutes late and will go two hours over time to show them the ins and outs of the data center.

Maybe my anxieties of a world in which Internet infrastructure becomes just Facebook infrastructure are alarmist gripes of a curmudgeon who really likes things like Tilde Club. I don’t really know what kind of future Facebook might shape for the network, and it would be facile to assume that future is either good or bad when all technology is inherently ambivalent, despite the best of intentions. And I’m sure that the people working at Facebook have the best of intentions. The road to Share Way, I think while gazing out onto the adjacent highway, is probably paved with them."
datacenters  facebook  ingridburrington  2015  iowa  sharing  connectivity  technology  infrastructure  internet  ocp  empathy  design  engineering 
december 2015 by robertogreco
Rhizome | How to See Infrastructure: A Guide for Seven Billion Primates
"If we lift up the manhole cover, lock-out the equipment, unscrew the housing, and break the word into components, infrastructure means, simply, below-structure. Like infrared, the below-red energy just outside of the reddish portion of the visible light section of the electromagnetic spectrum. Humans are not equipped to see infrared with our evolved eyes, but we sometimes feel it as radiated heat.

Infrastructure is drastically important to our way of life, and largely kept out of sight. It is the underground, the conduited, the containerized, the concreted, the shielded, the buried, the built up, the broadcast, the palletized, the addressed, the routed. It is the underneath, the chassis, the network, the hidden system, the combine, the conspiracy. There is something of a paranoiac, occult quality to it. James Tilly Matthews, one of the first documented cases of what we now call schizophrenia, spoke of a thematic style of hallucination described by many suffering from the condition, always rewritten in the technological language of the era. In Matthews' 18th Century description, there existed an invisible "air loom," an influencing machine harnessing rays, magnets, and gases, run by a secret cabal, able to control people for nefarious motives. Infrastructure's power, combined with its lack of visibility, is the stuff of our society's physical unconscious.

Perhaps because infrastructure wields great power and lacks visibility, it is of particular concern to artists and writers who bring the mysterious influencing machines into public discourse through their travels and research."
adamrothstein  infrastructure  cities  2015  allansekula  charmainechua  jamestillymatthews  unknownfieldsdivision  liamyoung  katedavies  timmaughan  danwilliams  shipping  centerforlanduseinterpretation  nicolatwilley  timmaly  emilyhorne  jeremybentham  jennyodell  landscape  donnaharaway  technology  ingridburrington  nataliejeremijenko  trevorpaglen  jamesbridle 
july 2015 by robertogreco
FACETS
"An interdisciplinary creative coding, interactive art, and videogames un-conference.

FACETS is a conversational based creative un-conference with a focus on underrepresented voices and demographics in STEM and art."



"MISSION STATEMENT

FACETS grew out out of a need for a new type of conference and a new type of conversation. Art, interactive technology, new media and game design are making innovative, beautiful things and are using similar tools and having similar, ground breaking discoveries and conversations but not with each other. What can a game designer learn from the linear mathematics used from procedurally generated music? What can the new media academic teach the creative technologist? How does technology inform storytelling, and how will video game design change cinema? The aim of FACETS is to create a cross disciplinary conference that facilitates conversation, mentorship, innovation, and ideation across these disciplines. We all make amazing things, let's make them together.

Organized by Caroline Sinders and created by Caroline Sinders, Mohini Freya Dutta, Phoenix Perry, and Jane Friedhoff, FACETS started out of a frustration with a lack of places to discuss interactive art, media, and game design, particularly with talented and underrepresented demographics in STEM."
facets  events  nyc  brooklyn  2015  coding  art  videogames  unconferences  carolinesinders  janefriedhoff  phoenixperry  mohinidutta  rachelbinx  sarahjaffe  paoolopedercini  ingridburrington  joannemcneil 
april 2015 by robertogreco
Ingrid Burrington - Crash Course in Digital Literacy - YouTube
"INGRID BURRINGTONARTIST WRITER, LIFEWINNINGIn our session ”Crash Course in Digital Literacy” Ingrid will give an overview of the physical infrastructure of the internet, share some of her own experiences trying to visit and map these infrastructures, and explain why it’s useful to think about the internet as a physical, tangible landscape.Ingrid Burrington lives and works on an island off the coast of America, where she writes, makes maps, and tells jokes about places, politics, and the weird feelings people have about both.Most recently, her work has appeared in Creative Time Reports. She is currently a fellow at the Data and Society Research Institute and an artist in residence at Eyebeam, an art and technology center in New York."
ingridburrington  2014  internet  infrastructure  digitalliteracy  online  datacenters  cloud 
march 2015 by robertogreco
The Failed Attempt to Destroy GPS - The Atlantic
"An axe attack in the early 1990s damaged the same network of satellites that helps you map directions today."



"Acting in a tradition of civil disobedience established by the Plowshares movement while citing the leader of the Underground Railroad and the heroine of the Terminator series, the Brigade's target was the Navigation Satellite Timing And Ranging (NAVSTAR) Program and the Global Positioning System (GPS). Back then, GPS was still a fairly obscure and incomplete military technology, used in some civilian applications (the first civilian GPS device, the Magellan NAV 1000, came on the market in 1988) but far from a mainstream resource. Today, GPS feels almost more intimate than industrial or weaponized.

I tend to look at GPS mostly when I'm looking at myself. Or more precisely, for myself, rendered as a small blue dot on a map on my phone. Generally while doing this, I don't pause to consider how that blue dot on a screen is a function of at network of multi-million-dollar satellites in space sending signals to and receiving signals from my phone (yes, in addition to signals from local wi-fi devices and cell towers, but still: Giant machines in space talk to a tiny phone and that is totally normal and expected). It’s easy to take our machines of loving grace for granted when we experience them mostly as blue dots on tiny screens.

Twenty-three years ago, the Harriet Tubman-Sarah Connor Brigade was thinking about personal relationships to GPS, but more in the context of civilians killed by precision warfare and a population threatened by a growing first-strike nuclear capability. All of this is GPS' provenance. It’s a provenance easily forgotten given its far-reaching influence and impact—not just on navigation but on networks and on networked time. While the Brigade couldn't foresee GPS' temporal impact, their actions are a small but resonant moment in its history, and a reminder of how we neglect technology’s ambivalent histories at our own risk.

* * *

Peter Lumsdaine didn't express any regrets when I contacted him to learn more about the Brigade. He doesn't really share my sense of personal connection to GPS. Even if the technology has more and more civilian uses, Lumsdaine said, GPS remains “military in its origins, military in its goals, military in its development and [is still] controlled by the military.”"



"An accelerated age often appears to be a more anxious age—every now feels more now than ever, every crisis more urgent than the last. The Harriet Tubman-Sarah Connor Brigade offers a reminder that to some extent, our technological anxieties are the same as they ever were. States continue to build breathtaking killing machines, scrubbing the blood on their hands in the rhetorical lather of efficiency, of promising civilian applications. Resistance to these regimes is marked with ambivalence at the technologies, tactical instruments often mistaken for ideology manifest. Technologies and the power dynamics that shape their use become normalized. The accelerated age buries technological origin stories beneath endless piles of timestamped data.

When people lose sight of these origin stories, they do a disservice to our technologies and to ourselves. Forgetting that we live among dormant killing machines makes it easy to believe that they are merely machines of loving grace and not tools beholden to the power structures that control them, tools that paradoxically become inescapable as they grow more accessible. Recognizing and living with the ghosts in our machines is a precondition of using them honestly and, hopefully, responsibly.

When I asked Lumsdaine what he thought civil disobedience today might look like in lieu of taking axes to server racks he replied, "I think in a general way people need to look for those psychological, spiritual, cultural, logistical, technological weak points and leverage points and push hard there. It is so easy for all of us as human beings to take a deep breath and step aside and not face how very serious the situation is, because it's very unpleasant to look at the effort and potential consequences of challenging the powers that be. But the only thing higher than the cost of resistance is the cost of not resisting."

What Lumsdaine describes as resistance might be as easily called living with ethics, but ultimately the call to action for either term is, essentially, to take time. In the rush of a persistent accelerated now, interruptions and challenges to life in real-time are sometimes necessary in order to ask what kind of future we're building."
ingridburrington  ethics  gps  space  crime  2015  harriettubman  satellitles  maps  mapping  civildisobedience  military  keithkjoller  peterlumsdaine  harriettubman-sarahconnorbrigade  warfare  war  technology  government  resistance 
march 2015 by robertogreco
The All-Women Hacker Collective Making Art About the Post-Snowden Age | Motherboard
““There is something about the internet that isn’t working anymore,” is the line that opens filmmaker Jonathan Minard’s short documentary on Deep Lab—a group of women hackers, artists, and theorists who gathered at Carnegie Mellon University in December to answer the question of what, exactly, that disquieting “something” is. The film premieres on Motherboard today.

What Deep Lab represents is just as hard to pin down as the “something” invoked in the opening minutes of Minard’s short film. Is it a book, a lecture series, or Minard’s documentary—all of which were put together in under a month? Is it an ethos? Is it feminist? Is Deep Lab a charrette, a dugnad, or a “congress,” as its participants called it?

It’s hard to say what Deep Lab is in part because of its scattershot nature, both in terms of its products and its focus. The Deep Lab book—available for free online—is a 242-page collection of essays, fragments, and reflections on everything from encryption to cyberfeminism penned by a dozen different authors with divergent interests.
Deep Lab’s interdisciplinary approach is perhaps necessary to parse the complicated realities of the post-Snowden age. Since Snowden’s revelations regarding the scope of the US government’s online surveillance program broke in 2013, it seems as though the internet has taken on a new, dark, and confusing identity.

Larger-than-life interests in the form of corporate and governmental surveillance are now at play in our daily interactions on the internet, and interpreting those outsized realities so we can understand them is no small challenge.

“As an artist, I want to reinterpret culture in a way that society can parse.” said Addie Wagenknecht, the multimedia artist who organized Deep Lab during her ongoing fellowship at the STUDIO for Creative Inquiry at Carnegie Mellon. “You take these big events and try to encapsulate them in a way that you can present them concisely and quickly so that it’s defined for people who experience that piece or exhibition.”

A chapter in the book compiled by data artist Ingrid Burrington is comprised of 20 pages listing objects pulled from the Pentagon’s 1033 program—which has supplied military hardware to local police for decades—in plain black text. After four solid pages of “5.56 MILLIMETRE RIFLE,” it becomes clear that Deep Lab is not only artistically compelling and tantalizingly oblique in how it approaches issues of life and death, but deadly serious.

According to Wagenknecht, Deep Lab is also a medium for women to do more than just participate in digital culture—the tech world has been notoriously resistant to opening its ranks to women—but to interpret and define it, and to share and create tools and techniques for survival within it.

“Maybe for women, we’re more aware of protecting ourselves online because it’s always been a social problem,” Wagenknecht told me. “Think of contacting friends before you leave a party late at night so people can make sure you got home safe—men maybe don’t think about that and women always do. And it’s those same roles on the web. How do you protect yourself from a hack or doxing? The power shifts to the person with more knowledge.”

Deep Lab member Harlo Holmes, who works as the head of metadata for the Guardian Project, designed a system for victims of cyber bullying on Twitter to easily and painlessly map the digital connections between harassers called Foxy Doxxing.

There were also men present at Deep Lab, including Minard, though they weren’t collaborators per se. Multimedia artist Golan Levin is the director of STUDIO, where Deep Lab congregated. Playing host to Deep Lab, Levin—along with Wagenknecht, who was the group’s chief mastermind and organizer—was part of Deep Lab’s development from the very beginning.

“I’m enormously proud,” Levin said. “You’re looking at a book, a documentary, and a lecture series that was put together by a dozen people in a month. I think they’re side-effects of what Deep Lab actually was.”

So, to return to the question that started this article—what is Deep Lab?—Levin provided his own answer: “It’s punk.”

But even more than punk—more than a book, a documentary, a gathering, or a lecture series—Deep Lab is a beginning, according to Allison Burtch, a resident at the Brooklyn-based Eyebeam Art and Technology Center and Deep Lab member.

I don’t think Deep Lab has ended; it was the beginning of a camaraderie,” Burtch said. “Yeah, we did this thing and did some talks, but it’s not ending. This is the beginning of different affiliations with people. It was awesome. “

According to Wagenknecht, a Deep Lab lecture series is planned for later in 2015, and will take place at venues in New York City. Until then, we have a book, several lectures, and a documentary to contemplate what Deep Lab is, and what it all means.​"
2015  deeplab  art  digitalart  infrastructure  2014  ingridburrington  jenlowe  technology  data  jonathanminard  jordanpearson  cyberfeminism  enryption  interdisciplinary  coding  code  programming  surveillance  golanlevin  harloholmes  allisonburtch  hackercollectives  collectives  culture  addiewagenknecht  punk  documentary  poer  subversion  deepweb  freedom  privacy  security  socialmedia  facebook  google  socialnorms  safety 
january 2015 by robertogreco
▶ One-On-One Conversations: Ingrid Burrington and James Bridle by EyebeamNYC
[Description from: http://eyebeam.org/events/eyebeam-artists-one-on-one-james-bridle-and-ingrid-burrington ]

"The first in this series features James Bridle and Ingrid Burrington, discussing "The Black Chamber". As technology advances and becomes increasingly networked and integrated with our daily lives, it tends towards a greater invisibility, a seamlessness and an unreadability. From the Cipher Bureau to Room 641A, from the datacenter to the iPhone, from the drone command module to the shipping container, the black boxes of the network litter the contemporary landscape. Unable to see inside them, we construct fantasies about their use, develop new ways of thinking about them, and attempt to probe them through techniques legal, technical, and magical. Eyebeam Residents Ingrid Burrington and James Bridle will explore the aesthetic and imaginative space of the black box, and outline some of their own practices for approaching them."
ingridburrington  jamesbridle  via:vruba  invisibility  visibility  blackboxes  datacenters  infrastructure  technology  magic  unreadability  landscape  urban  urbanism  architecture  2014  wizards  daemons 
october 2014 by robertogreco
[this is aaronland] interpretation roomba
"Part of the reason these two quotes interest me is that I've been thinking a lot about origin stories and creation myths. I've been thinking about how we recognize and choose the imagery and narratives — the abstractions — that we use to re-tell a story. There's nothing a priori wrong with those choices. We have always privileged certain moments over others as vehicles for conveying the symbolism of an event."



"I've been thinking about history as the space between the moments that come to define an event. History being the by-product of a sequence of events pulling apart from each, over time, leaving not just the peaks a few dominant imagery but the many valleys of interpretation.

When I think of it this way I am always reminded of Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics in which he celebrates "the magic in the gutter". The "gutter" being the space between frames where action is unseen and left to imagination of the reader. These are the things I think of when I consider something like the 9/11 Memorial and the construction of a narrative around the event it commemorates.

Not much is left to abstraction and so it feels as though the memorial itself acts as a vacuum against interpretation, at all. It is a kind of "Interpretation-Roomba" that moves through your experience of the venue sucking up any space in which you might be able to consider the event outside of the master narrative."



"After the panel some of us went out for drinks and for people of a certain it was difficult not to fall prey to moments sounding exactly like our parents and saying things like: The kids today, they don't know what it was like back in the day when all we had were bulletin board systems... I mention this for a couple reasons.

The first is to ask the question: Is a slow network akin to no network at all? It is hard to imagine going back to the dial-up speeds of the 1990's Internet and I expect it would be a shock to someone who's never experienced them but I think we would all do well to keep Staehle's comments about the time to broadcast and the time to relay in mind.

The second is that as we were all sitting around the table waxing nostalgic about 28.8 Kbps modems I remember thinking: Actually, when I first discovered the web I wanted the next generation to be able to take this for granted. I wanted the "kids" to live in a world where the Internet was just part of the fabric of life, where it didn't need to be a philosophical moment everytime you got online.

The good news is that this has, by and large, happened. The bad news is we've forgotten why it was important in the first place and if it feels like the Network is governed by, and increasingly defined, by a kind of grim meathook fatalism I think maybe that's why.

Somewhere in all the excitement of the last 20 years we forgot, or at least neglected, the creation myth and the foundational story behind the Network and in doing so we have left open a kind of narrative vacuum. We have left the space to say why the Network exists at all to those who would see it shaped in ways that are perhaps at odds with the very reasons that made it special in the first place."



"A question I've been asking myself as I've been thinking about this talk is: Does a littlenet simply transit data or does it terminate that data? Is a littlenet specific to a place? Are littlenets defined by the effort is takes to get there? That seems a bit weird, almost antithetical to the idea of the Network, right?

Maybe not though or maybe it's less about littlenets acting like destinations or encouraging a particular set of rituals but instead simply taking advantage of the properties the Network offers to provide bespoke services. For example, what if bars ran captive portal networks that you couldn't get out of, like Dan Phiffer's Occupy.here, but all they did was offer access to a dictionary?

That might seem like an absurb example at first but let it sink in for a minute or two and if you're like me you'll find yourself thinking that would be kind of awesome. A dictionary in a bar is a polite of saying We're here to foster the conversation on your own terms rather than dictate it on ours.

A dictionary in a bar would be a "service" in the, well, service of the thing that bars don't need any help with: conversation, socializing, play. People aren't going to stop frequenting bars that they don't have dictionaries in them, but a bar with a dictionary in it is that much better.

If a littlenet does not terminate then does it or should it engage in traffic shaping? What separates littlenet from a fake cell phone towers? What about deep packet inspection (DPI) ? What about goatse? If a littlenet does not drink the common carrier Kool-Aid is it still a Network or just gated-community for like minded participants?

None of these problems go away just because a network is little and, in fact, their little-ness and the potential ubiquity of littlenets only exascerbates the problem. It casts the questions around an infrastructure of trust as much as an infrastructure of reach in to relief.

We have historically relied on the scarcity and the difficulty of access to the tools that can manipulate the Network at, well, the network layer as a way to manage those questions of trust. Ultimately, littlenets force those larger issues of how we organize (and by definition how we limit) ourselves as a community to the fore. It speaks to the question of public institutions and their mandates. It speaks to the question of philosophy trumping engineering.

It speaks to the question of how we articulate an idea of the Network and why we believe it is important and what we do to preserve those qualities."



"It goes like this: If we liken the network to weather what does it mean to think of its climate as too hostile for any one person to survive in isolation? What would that mean, really? I have no idea and I recognize that this is one line of argument in support of a benevolent all-seeing surveillance state but perhaps there are parallels to be found in the way that cold-weather countries organize themselves relative to the reality of winter. Regardless of your political stripes in those countries there is common cause in not letting people face those months alone to die of exposure.

I really don't know how or whether this translates to the Network in part because it's not clear to me whether the problem is not having access to the Network, not having unfettered access to the Network (think of those Facebook-subsidized and Facebook-only data plans for mobile phones) or that the Network itself, left unchecked, is in fact a pit of vipers.

Should the state suspend reality in the service of a mandate for the Network the way that they sometimes do for universal health care or, if you live in the US, the highway system? Is that just what we now call network neutrality or should we do more to temper the consequences of assuming the Network is inherently hostile? To activiely foster a more communitarian sensibilities and safeguards?

You're not supposed to say this out loud, particularly in light of events like the Snowden revelations, but the reality is that societies announce that 2+2=5 because "reasons" all the time."



"My issue is that we have spent a good deal of the last 500 years (give or take) trying to make visibility a legitimate concern. We have spent a lot of time and lot of effort arguing that there is a space for voices outside the dominant culture and to now choose to retract in to invisibility, as a tactic, seems counter-productive at best and fitting the needs of people who were never really down the project at worst.

The only reason many of know each other is because we were willing, because we desired, to stick our head above the parapet and say "I am here". Acting in public remains complicated and is still decidedly unfair for many but if the creation myth of visibility is one of malice-by-default then we might have a bigger problem on our hands."



"The problem I have with littlenets is that I want to live in a world with a "biggernet" that doesn't make me sad or suspect or hate everyone around me. The concern I have with littlenets is that they offer a rhetorical bluff from which to avoid the larger social questions that a networked world lay bare. And that in avoiding those questions we orphan the reasons (the creation myths) why the Network seemed novel and important in the first place.

There's a meme which has bubbling up more and more often these days, advanced by people like Ingrid and others, that perhaps libraries should operate as internet service providers. That the mandate of a publicly-minded institution like a library is best suited to a particular articulation of the Network as a possibility space.

Libraries lend books on the principle that access to information is value in and of itself not because they know what people will do with that knowledge. Libraries have also been some of the earliest adopters of littlenets in the service of that same principle in the form of electronic distribution hubs. I bet some of those littlenets even have dictionaries on them.

So, despite my reservations and in the interests of defaulting to action maybe we should all endeavour to run our own read-only littlenets of stuff we think is worth preserving and sharing. If the politics and the motives surrounding the Network are going to get all pear-shaped in the years to come then maybe littlenets are our own samizdat and the means to save what came before and to say as much to ourselves as to others: This is how it should be."
aaronstraupcope  2014  history  storytelling  time  memory  scottmccloud  abstraction  gaps  memorial  objects  artifacts  shareholdervalue  motive  confidence  internet  web  purpose  networks  littlenets  meshnetworks  community  communities  occupy.here  visibility  invisibility  legibility  illegibility  samizdat  realpolitik  access  information  ingridburrington  libraries  sharing  online  commons 
october 2014 by robertogreco
Ingrid Burrington - Crash Course in Digital Literacy - Video Archive - The Conference by Media Evolution
"In our session ”Crash Course in Digital Literacy” Ingrid will give an overview of the physical infrastructure of the internet, share some of her own experiences trying to visit and map these infrastructures, and explain why it’s useful to think about the internet as a physical, tangible landscape.

Ingrid Burrington lives and works on an island off the coast of America, where she writes, makes maps, and tells jokes about places, politics, and the weird feelings people have about both.

Most recently, her work has appeared in Creative Time Reports. She is currently a fellow at the Data and Society Research Institute and an artist in residence at Eyebeam, an art and technology center in New York."
ingridburrington  internet  networks  web  online  datacenters  servers  infrastructure  2014  digitalliteracy  julianoliver  drones  code 
august 2014 by robertogreco
Save The Data Drama
"Place



A location rife with beautiful signifiers of gentle exclusion seemed an ideal place for a conference like this. Within a few minutes of Friday's talks beginning, it became clear that almost everyone at this event knew each other, and if they didn't know the speakers they were probably grad students. I came to this thing from a periphery: close enough to some of the speakers to not be totally isolated, making work that's relevant to the topic, but not transactionally useful to the majority of the people there.

I admittedly have a knack for showing up in places where I am out of place. I tend to show up to such places bearing a massive, posture-ruining, class warfare chip on my shoulder. Some of this comes from the fact that being alive feels like being out of place, because honestly I wake up every day amazed that I'm still alive after an unrelated incident in 2009 that I don't really want to talk about.

One side effect of my terrible posture is that I'm a terrible liar. When faced with the elaborate theater of someone trying to convince me that this is the hippest data center ever or that he is the Most Important Man In The Room, I kind of just start laughing. And when I start to get worked up about how out of place I am in a given situation, I get defensive and snarky.

This isn't necessarily an apology (I don't think I have to apologize for for thinking that careerism is silly or for having reactions to however unintentionally hostile spaces); just context on the off-chance any of the Serious Important Men of Data Drama (who perhaps hereafter should be called the Data Drama Queens) who were probably annoyed with me read this. Don't worry guys, I'm just a silly woman living paycheck to paycheck, don't mind me.



Privilege



Honestly, I don't really like being the person at a gendered, privileged event talking about gender or privilege, because I know that I have so much privilege, and I don't want to claim to speak for the marginalized who are not in the room. Hell, we didn't even really get into how deeply white the conference was (in both speaker and audience makeup). There was a uniquely awkward moment when, during a Q&A session, filmmaker Ben Lewis complained about the difficulty he encountered finding people to interview who were concerned about or negatively affected by surveillance--this after James Bridle had given a talk about British citizens stripped of their citizenship essentially so they could be droned. The anger at Lewis' apparent ignorance was palpable, but not necessarily productive--while yes, someone probably should have said "Ben, perhaps you should consider speaking to people who don't look like you", there weren't that many examples of such people to point to in that conference room at Princeton.


When Data Drama Queens talk about the risks being faced in our new data age, the future adaptations of cyborg humans, the potential of World 2.0, who is actually being spoken about or spoken for? To what extent are these speculations of the future posed more or less for people like them?



Magic

The aesthetics of the slide talks and much of the work presented varied--from Metahaven's seapunk-Geocities collages to Adam Harvey's apparently oblivious fashion magazine-glossy male gaze--but there was a frequently ambivalent return to a rhetoric and aesthetics of awe. Despite ourselves, we are kind of in love with the technology, even if it is in the hands of the oppressor, and that's hard to reconcile.

Early on during Saturday's talks, a Q&A got into a discussion of magic, and that's the thing I keep coming back to. I'm not sure what that's going to look like, but I think it's got a lot of potential. I am for a dialogue on technology and society that allows for weirdness, allows for vulnerability, allows for humanity, requires a certain amount of faith, and isn't about pure mastery. I think there's more space for that in the language of magic, I don't know. Mostly I wanted to know how many of the people at that conference listen to Welcome to Nightvale."
ingridburrington  datadrama  2014  data  privilege  place  conferences  magic  nightvale  mastery  usmanhaque  katecrawford  cv  honesty  lying  class  classwarfare  liamyoung  jamesbridle  benlewis 
april 2014 by robertogreco
On the Outskirts of Crypto City: The Architecture of Surveillance | Creative Time Reports
"Amongst the banal office complexes of Fort Meade, Maryland, artist Ingrid Burrington investigated many of the private contractors that feed off of the National Security Agency surveillance empire and found what she calls "bland temples to the many demigods of an infinitely complicated cult.""
ingridburrington  nsa  surveillance  us  2014  architecture 
january 2014 by robertogreco
Words Mean Things: Fort Meade Dispatch
"Whenever Valerie and I get into arguments she tells me 'words mean things'," Aaron said somewhere along the New Jersey Turnpike. We were driving from Brooklyn to Fort Meade to attend part of United States vs. Bradley Manning. I had been reading out loud from Alexa O'Brien's fastidiously thorough breakdown of the charges. "Words aren't kind of this, or sort of that. You have to use words and know what they mean when you use them," Aaron elaborated.
Valerie, Aaron's girlfriend, is an attorney, so of course for her arguments hinge on words meaning things, on syntax as substance. And while the actions that Bradley Manning took mean millions of different things to different people, in the Uniform Court of Military Justice, those actions are understood as charges, as words, words that in a court of law can only mean one thing.
Between the lighting, carpeting, and legalese, many moments in the courtroom honestly felt more like being in math class in junior high than in a high-profile chapter of American history. At first I thought my own lack of sleep was the problem, but during the recess I realized many other people had been similarly surprised to realize that Lind had in fact ruled not to dismiss the charges at hand. She made the statement so quickly, in a slightly bored and contemptuous tone of voice, that its gravity didn't even totally sink in until discussing it further outside the courtroom, until I saw New York Times and Guardian alerts on my phone telling me about the decision as "breaking news."
You'd imagine such a decision, one that has huge implications for future whistleblowers, would be stated with some change in tone. But Lind's desultory delivery reflects a seemingly inescapable facet of what we call the justice system: like most things that are fundamentally important to understanding and deciding how people live their lives, it's constructed from language that has little to no relationship to a public's day-to-day life.
But I realized that it was appropriate to hyper-define these terms in a court of law, because words mean things. In programming, as in law, words also mean things, and there's no room for nuance. They are backend structures that one usually doesn't need to really pay much mind to, structures that are left to specialists for a reason. Law's particularities, like programming's, are not meant to be obfuscating, they're meant to keep things standard, and thus fair for everyone. But the questions of who gets to be a specialist, who gets to understand, and who gets to decide what is standard and what is fair are in a way integral to the decision by Manning to share classified documents with Wikileaks.
The verdict will be words, because words mean things. The verdict is a cipher, in both senses of the word. It can be both meanings of the word. Words mean things, and they can mean multiple things. They can change. They only mean things if we agree on what they mean, and in this respect words are, despite being of our own making, beyond our control.
language  power  ingridburrington  bradleymanning  2013  meaning  politics  law  legal  context  canon  via:tealtan 
july 2013 by robertogreco
Lifewinning
"Ingrid Burrington is an artist living in America. She does lots of projects with maps, words, and data"
ingridburrington  art  artists  data  maps  mapping  geography  words  glvo 
may 2013 by robertogreco

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