Every photograph is an illustration of Zeno’s Paradox. By seeming to frame time with the release of the shutter, the photograph seems to frame time as infinitely divisible into moments, into halfway points between an infinitude of 2 other points. Whether starting or ending with starting or ending, the infinitude of these points prevents the possibility of starting or ending.
People have noticed something like this about photography pretty much as soon as its invention. The specificity of the moment and subject of a photograph contrasts with its potential infinitude of meaning and authorship. Even more, this aspect of photography provides a snapshot of the paradox of art in a disenchanted, rationalized age. Continue reading “The Paradox of Photography”→
About a year after my brain injury, things had improved and stabilized enough for me to consider finding something to do with myself. We had a good, although somewhat out of date, 35mm camera. We had gotten reasonably proficient with it years before, but had been in the closet for longer than we had used it
Over that year, I had learned the path to relative success with tasks was to break them down to their simplest parts and then to stretch their execution out over as much time as possible. Continue reading “The Photography Paradox”→
While a fine-grained focus characterizes much of Code/Space, the final chapter takes, at points, a panoramic vision. The accumulation of the specifics of coded applications becomes Everyware.
Everyware is the notion that computational power will soon be distributed and available at any point on the planet…With everyware, life unfolds enveloped within software-enabled environments. 216 Taken together, it is envisioned that these various forms of everyware will generate “ambient intelligence” — objects and spaces that are sensitive and responsive to presence of people or other coded objects. 221
K&D analyze this using cost/ benefit binaries such as surveillance vs empowerment. This enables them throughout the book to present codeness as a tool that we can use in either positive and negatives ways. This is different from the approach I outline in my Findable Cyborg posts Part 1 and Part 3 and imply in posting the DARPA video in Part 2. These posts discuss pervasively rationalized environments in the context of the technological understanding of being. Up to this final part of Code/Space, K&D deemphasize this kind of analysis preferring a mostly functional approach. While they do idenify code’s role in extending the negative aspects of neo-liberal capitalism, there is nothing up to this point like R Scott Bakker’s view:
Modern technological society constitutes a vast, species-wide attempt to become more mechanical, more efficiently integrated in nested levels of superordinate machinery. (You could say that the tyrant attempts to impose from without, capitalism kindles from within.) The Blind Mechanic II: Reza Negarestani and the Labour of Ghosts R. Scott Bakker
Yet something like this sentiment is there, in less explicit form.
Everyware promises new opportunities to monitor, link, and make sense of the interactions, transactions, and mobilities of people, goods and information at a spatial and temporal resolution previously impossible…to create a fine-grained net of automated management. 228
This anxiety becomes more explicit in their discussion of life-logging. These practices take typical practices of human self monitoring beyond augmentation by coded devices to a pervasive and ubiquitous part of living.
The aim of life-log developers is to provide a record of the past that includes every action, every event, every conversation and every material expression of an individual’s life. 230
The combination of pervasive automated management and life-logging “has the potential to create a society that never forgets…a detailed spatialization of the history of everything, everywhere.” K&D propose a solution that is both elegant and impossible, the converging of parallel lines of thought on the curved surface of code/space.
One path…is to construct an ethics of forgetting in relation to pervasive computing….[T]echnologies that “store and manage a lifetime’s worth of everything” should always be complimented by forgetting…So rather than focus on the prescriptive [ethics], we envision necessary processes of forgetting…that should be built into code, ensuring a sufficient degree of imperfection, loss and error. 253
Pervasive computing relentlessly increases the signal to noise, seeking to eliminate noise altogether. Forgetting is purposely generating noise to reconstitute the human in the face of the totalizing machine. Yet the machines must also be the agents of this forgetting, accepting as they become more and more powerful, “imperfection, loss and error.” Animal perception functions by filling in the gaps of its always incomplete sensory information. That is why the expression, “The whole is greater than the sum its parts” makes any sense. The perceived whole is always greater the parts we can perceive. Machine perception has the potential to vastly reduce the unperceived, unprocessed parts. In such a situation though, the idea of the whole itself becomes dispensable replaced by a stream of amorphous parts defined by their temporary function. Perhaps there would be hope for K&D’s strategy of forgetting if humans could first provide an example of accepting “imperfection, loss and error”. It remains though a measure of the predicament we find ourselves in, and this alone recommends Code/Space.
This is reblogged from CK MacLeod’s (nee Zombie Contentions) where I was a contributor for a while writing under the unlikely nom de zombie “bob”.
Walking in the Nature Preserve yesterday, I didn’t see this. The colors were there, and it was morning, but instead of clear light, steady rain alternated with downpours. This picture suggests what I saw a few years ago. I have seen nothing close to this again.
Binghamton University own the Preserve and the Biology Department uses it for a laboratory. So what I did see was a 40ish woman knee-deep in the pond, scooping up the water into a bus tub, with 15 or so young people, not dressed for the weather watching her. She heaved it to the edge of the pond and all but yelled, “What do we see?”
Inaudible. “Yes, water spiders! Where did we see water spiders last week in the river?”
Inaudible. “Yes clinging to the rocks! She then thrust her hands at head level and spread her finders as if she was about to grab onto the last rock.
The young people stood mute, perhaps flashing back to the life and death struggles they had witnessed only a week ago.
“Yes it’s so much easier for them here…they can just relax…near the pond edge the weeds make it harder for the fish to eat them.’
If I describe my first shamanic journey on my own behalf, not Coleen’s journeying for me, mediating an entourage of power animals and beings, not her extractions of misplaced energies, not her soul retrieval journeys, but my own journey, not with the powerful bear, or the gregarious wolf or the insightful owl, but with beings I won’t name and with salamander then there’s only this:
Salamander vibrates between animism and naturalism and so even before the Manhattan Project, before digital computers, salamander was and is digital.
Salamander collapses subject and object, figure and ground, living not just in the ground and the water but of ground and water like pouring water into water.
The object has a similar interiority and a similar physicality and this I call digitism.
Part 2 asserts that from the Uncanny Valley’s forest floor, the drone seems both an uncanny robot and a living nonhuman species. Of course neither is true.
The drone is a remote appendage of a cyborg. The parts of this entity includes a human at a control panel and all the technological infrastructure the drone needs to complete its mission. Distributed across the world, it is a functional human/machine hybrid, just as a human immersed in an electronic device, or in union with a pacemaker is.
Looking down at the Valley’s forest floor for a moment, perhaps distracted by a sound, or just overwhelmed by the vigilance of looking at the sky, I see this:
Destroying Angels (a group of closely related Amanita species around the world) are among the most deadly mushrooms there are. Humans eating the various species of Destroying Angel (or the closely related the Death Cap) result in up to 95% of mushroom deaths.
These visible mushrooms though are only a projectile of the underground organism, the mycelium. This part of a fungus can be huge. Depending on the criteria one uses, a fungus in Oregon is the largest living organism on earth.
Additionally, the fungus lives in symbiosis with the surrounding trees, fungus penetrating into tree roots cells, becoming a functional entity, becoming one thing, becoming a non-human/non-machine cyborg.
Standing on the forest floor of the Uncanny Valley, the potential of death hovers above me and stands as witness at my feet.