-- TIR-W Volume 9 no. 2 July 2008 Instruments and Playable Text: Stuart Moulthrop
    Under Language: Stuart Moulthrop
    Concerto for Narrative Data: Judy Malloy
    activeReader: Elizabeth Knipe
    So Random, PiTP: Shawn Rider
    riverIslandQT: John Cayley
    The Purpling: Nick Montfort

-- TIR-W Volume 9 no. 1 August 2007
    Multi-Modal Coding: Jason Nelson, Donna Leishman, and Electronic Writing
    Interviews: Jason Nelson, Donna Leishman
      Biographical Background
      Reception | Role of the Reader
      Interface
      Work Process
      Electronic Literature Community
      Future Work
      Secrets
      Space | State
      Connect Digital | Material Games
      Potentials of the Field
    Essays:
      The Artists on Each Other's Work
      Talan Memmott's Commentary on Each Artist
    Artworks:
      Deviant
      Leishman Site
      Pandemic Rooms
      Nelson Index

-- TIR-W, Volume 8 no. 3, September 2006
    Interview with Dan Waber; Rita Raley
    five by five; Dan Waber bio and Jason Pimble
    TLT vs. LL; Ted Warnell
    Interview with David Knoebel; Rita Raley
    Heart Pole; David Knoebe
    Interview with Aya Karpinska; Rita Raley
    mar puro; Aya Karpinska
    The Nihilanth: Immersivity in a First-Person Gaming Mod; Sandy Baldwin
    New Word Order (Video);Sandy Baldwin
    Word Museum;William Gillespie
    Interview with John Cayley; Sandy Rita Raley
    Torus (Video); John Cayley

-- TIR-W, Volume 8, no. 2, June/July 2006
    Editor's Introduction: Reconfiguring Place and Space in New Media Writing;     Scott Rettberg
    Workspace is Mediaspace is Cityscape: An Interview with Nick Montfort on Book and Volume; Jeremy Douglass
    Written on the Body: An Interview with Shelley Jackson; Scott Rettberg
    Behind Fa ade: An Interview with Andrew Stern and Michael Mateas; Brenda Bakker Harger
    Avant-Gaming: An Interview with Jane McGonigal; Scott Rettberg
    Book and Volume; Nick Montfort
    Fa ade; Michael Mateas and Andrew Stern

-- TIR-W, Volume 8, no. 1, February/March 2006
    Editor's Introduction; Ben Basan
    Sound Art, Art, Music; Douglas Kahn
    Speaking Volumes; Brandon Labelle
    Firebirds | Firebirds Berlin | Tongues of Fire; Paul DeMarinis
    A Brief Lecture on Author/ity; Alexis Bhagat
    Harvester; Ed Osborn
    Honi | Tacotsubo; ADACHI Tomomi

-- TIR-W, Volume 7, no. 2, November 2005
    10:01; Lance Olsen & Tim Guthrie
    Pieces of Herself; Juliet Davis
    The Bomar Gene; Jason Nelson
    News from Erewhon; Millie Niss & Martha Deed

-- TIR-W, Volume 7, no. 1, August 2005
    Ask me for the moon; John Zuern
    CONSCIOUSNESS, LITERATURE, AND SCIENCE FICTION; Kathleen Ann Goonan
    Buyways: Billboards, Automobiles, and the American Landscape; Mike Chasar
    An interview with Diana Slattery; Dene Grigar

-- TIR-W, Volume 6, 2004
    New Work; Niss, Deed & Daniels
    Two Reviews; Tevis Thompson and Mike Chasar
    Remembering Donald Justice; Steven Cramer
    An interview & new work; David Silver, Jay David Bolter and Diane Gromala
    An interview with Amy Sara Carroll; Heidi Bean

-- TIR-W, Volume 5, 2003
    Afterwards; Judy Malloy
    Digital Nature: the Case Collection version 2.0; Tal Halpern, Patrick F. Walter
    Hacktivism? I didn't know the term existed before I did it; An Interview with Brian Kim Stefans; Giselle Beiguelman
    Pax & An Interview; Stuart Moulthrop and Noah Wardrip-Fruin
    An Interview with Margaret Stratton; Leslie Roberts
    New Work & Reviews; Heidi Bean, Seth Thompson, Deena Larsen, geniwate, Pamela Gay
    An Interview with John Cayley; Brian Kim Stefans
    3 Proposals for Bottle Imps; William Poundstone
    Self Portrait(s) [as Other(s)] & an Interview; Talan Memmott and M.D. Coverley
    New work and an interview; Joseph Tabbi and Anthony Enns
    Judd Morrissey & Lori Talley: An Interview & Essay; Jessica Pressman

-- TIR-W, Volume 4, 2002
    Selected new poems; Ana Marie Uribe
    ORIENT; YOUNG HAE CHANG HEAVY INDUSTRIES
    Dervish Flowers; Nicolas Clausse and Brian Kim Stefans
    New Digital Emblems; William Poundstone and Brian Kim Stefans
    "Of Dolls and Monsters" An interview with Shelley Jackson; Rita Raley
    Electronic Literature; Ravi Shankar, N. Kathrine Hayles, and Lisa Gitelman
    Excerps from Mark Amerika's Oz Blog; Mark Amerika
    Inflat-o-space; Jessica Irish
    New Media Writing; Marc C. Marino, William Gillespie, and Dirk Stratton
    Remembering My Life In/Of Words; Richard Kostelanetz
    An Interview, an Essay, a New Media Project; Stephanie Strickland and Jaishree Odin
    Our day with Jerry Springer; David Schneidermann
    A loss is less and death is not so easy
    Experiemental Literature was really the first kick: An interview with Scanner; Rebekah Farrugia
    Crowds and Power; Jody Zellen and Thom Swiss
    "Red, Black, White and Gray:" An Interview with Motomichi Nakamura;
      YOUNG HAE CHANG HEaVY INDUSTRIES Bcc, Motomichi Makamura

-- TIR-W, Volume 3, 2001
    Reach; Michael Joyce
    Training Missions; Joe Amato
    Everything after That; Martha Conway
    Winter Break; Adrienne Eisen
    -][select][test: co][deP][1][oetry]_; mez
    The Impermanence Agent; Noah Wardrip-Fruin, a.c.chapman, Brion Moss, Duane Whitehurst
    A Long Wild Smile; Jeff Parker

-- TIR-W, Volume 1, 1999 & Volume 2, 2000
    Book of Job; Ted Warnell
    The Universal Resource Locator; M.D. Coverly
    Lexia to Perplexia; Talan Memmott
    The Birth of Detachment; Jennifer Ley
    The 12hr-ISBN-JPEG Project; Brad Brace
    City of Bits; Thomas Swiss
    Divine Mind Fragment Theater; Jim Andrews
    Pronunciation: 'fut, or: A Tool and it's Means; c. allan dinsmore
    Simple Harmonic Motion Or, Josephine Baker in the Time Capsule; Diane Greco
    Reality Dreams, Scroll One; Joel Weishaus
    Broken; Alan Sondheim and Barry Smylie
    Mitosis; Kevin Fanning
    The dear mr thomas letters; Kevin Fanning
    A Fable of Words; Jeffery M. Bochman

Donna Leishman

 

Jason Nelson

Leishman on Two of Nelson's Works

I have a special relationship with written words—I voraciously consume them but find them hard to use/place in my pictorial pursuits. It's almost as if I have a heavy (graphic) design filter whereby I can only see the written words in terms of their typographic excellence, their success on the pictorial plane. Their shape, form, and colour impact their historical frame and thus resonance. However I do feel myself drawn to holographic texts, or artworks, that transcend their font either in illegibility or in entering the concrete sphere.

This being said may help frame my responses to two of Jason Nelson's artworks. He is a self confessed "poet who saw limitations in the written word," who primarily deploys "text" and spoken word as opposed to my beloved "image" and melody in his art.

Uncontrollable Semantics

Uncontrollable Semantics is littered with abstract geometrics, brooding sonic loops and childlike sketches. Pretty sonic landscapes contrasted with deconstructed loops match the range of images and colours used. Layered transparent shapes obscure the simple text buttons situated in North, South, East, West or Up, Down, Right and Left positions. The interface uses a space/depth analogy, interesting given Nelson's Geography background, whereby clicking in deeper yields access to the secrets and surfacing back up returns the user to a safer territory of familiar links.

Rather surprisingly, "Supersecret" offers up the more traditional "Dressing" poem that has stabilized static words. Within the body of the artwork, the user can find an assortment of experiential onomatopoeia, such as a Jodi-esque "Trap" complete with lurid primary html pages continuously loading themselves, which rather entertainingly forces the user to quit the browser page and restart the artwork. A simple black screen represents "Fear". "Random link" does what it says.

The overall tone of the work suggests a singular persona's synaptic streams on topics such as birth, career, death, gangrene, aneurysm, and underground-descriptors that suggest decay and/or bodily failings. The rollovers and tracking mouse patterns similarly create vein-y spindly patterns. Is the artwork a body of some kind?

The navigation combined with the aural, visual, and often-obscured texts creates a feeling of becoming lost, the user striving to reveal something (but ultimately nothing). I found myself hunting for the new but quickly acknowledging that the hunt was likely to be more enjoyable than any denouement.

To a practioner who uses Flash, it's clear to see that Nelson re-uses popular open-source Flash codes (think Yugop, Praystation). I wonder does remodelling these codes inspire the ideas? Or does the idea come first and code is located and reused to suit? Either way an interesting part of the digital creative process.

This Is How You Will Die

The title suggests such a powerful certainty, it commands attention. Thus begins Nelson's reworked online "pokey" machine. The "pokey" assumes the role of an oracle randomly predicting and offering the differing scenarios one may encounter at death. I'm attracted to the macabre sense of humour emanating from this project (rather than the personal narrative of Uncontrollable Semantics).

Does it laugh at those who hold concrete faith in the afterlife? Does it tap into societies' fear of death? Does it mirror the vacuousness of modern day spirituality, drawing parallels between a life of instant gratification and the perfunctory nature of thinking about our deaths?

The slot results combined with the scenarios range from the humorous to the bleak and gory. I begin to wonder if the scenarios are all fictional, and some suggest a consciousness post-mortem. Doubt creeps in when I hear them retold by narrators, as if they are witnesses. The longer you spend on the slots the more the despondency sets in—the antithesis of the real life buzz of playing the game.

Visually it's a hybrid, the pixelated gilt frame reminiscent of some Vegas style slot machine; monochrome and reds, scratches and blips supplant the brash credit icons and their cheery luminous colours. The bonus embedded video clips loop alongside the narrators offering snippets of urban life. Curiously, or luckily (?) during my plays, I seemed to be blessed with the good fortune of winning multiple death spins, whereas what I actually wanted was to hear my own death.

Between the two projects This Is How You Will Die held more for me—it has simplicity, accessibility, and depth. My initial experience was a bit of fun, enjoying my trivial death spins. However the longer I immersed and read and listened, the work took on a sombre and then onerous tone. The project handles such a tricky subject at multiple levels. Its rounded emergent emotional experience is fundamental to an authentic rather than cursory or thin interactive experience. Artworks that can achieve this are still sadly scant.

Interview Questions

Biographical Background

Reception | Role of the Reader

Interface

Work Process

Electronic Literature Community

Future Work

Secrets

Space | State

Connect Digital | Material

Games

Potentials of the Field


Essays

The Artists on Each Other's Work

Talan Memmott's Commentary on Each Artist


Launch the Artworks

Deviant

Leishman Site

Pandemic Rooms

Nelson Index


Biographical Information

Stephanie Strickland

Majorie Coverley Luesebrink

Donna Leishman

Jason Nelson

Talan Memmott

Nelson on Leishman's Deviant

Young Hobos and Tales and Grey Tacks through the Woods.

I was lost. Not can't find the link, or which way is the story growing lost, but transformed into a tiny character, an opening tree and wandering though a dark and cartoony city/park/room kind of lost. I can smell cut grass and water where there is no water. Every erratic mouse brush curls little creatures from stems and white coated figures, arms down, seem to be watching something. Donna's sharp lined, interactive narrative expands the notion of graphic novel and visual poetics/fictions to build a slightly amusing and ever bleak interactive anti-linear land/screenscape.

Jealously Enjoying the Drawings from the Back of a Burning Cereal Box

I can see the pop culture world of online Macromedia [now Adobe] Flash cartoons being remixed into a multi-pathed, ever/anti-linear atmosphere. A literary animation of sorts, like the clothing and sticker gothic girl Emily, but less direct and with a far away look, a wobbly disposition. And this Deviant's homage to the new cartoon/animation is gorgeously built. The subtle interactive animations of black flower growth and alien/monster escapes, of flying girl kites and slow movements are compelling enough to encourage play and exploration, and beautiful enough to inspire jealousy in those of us without the ability to draw.

Glossy Pages, Clever Toys, Broken Doll Heads for Fashionable Detours

The artwork with Deviant would do well in the pages of Juxtapoz, inspiring toys and t-shirt of the characters and creatures lurking about the screen. With that in mind, perhaps the next leap might make sense, or seem less unfair. But this work is almost lost in its own polish, its own cleverly craft and marketing friendly drawings. And after reading the author's dissertation, Deviant being its creative companion, it seems one intention of this work is to play with the concept of confusion and awkward darkness to develop a compelling mood. However, the drawings are so screen dominant, so distinct, so commercially viable that they seem to overcome much of the narrative, and disjointed and variably changing linking structure. I wasn't as concerned with searching for links or being tossed around a mysterious story. Instead the graphics kept me lurking through sometimes just to see more graphics, to catch extra bits of animation or new pretty, pretty monsters.

There are Days When a Concussion Is Like Taking a Nap

In addition, I didn't feel disjointed or apprehensive when experiencing the work despite the sometimes odd juxtaposition of story and graphic or the linking structure that forced backwards and forwards movement without offering consistent clues. There is an acceptance among net artists, and a growing tradition within animation, that an artwork doesn't require explanation, nor does it need to make sense. Many net artworks concentrate on luring the reader/user down lost roads, dead ends, and filling holes with unexpected responses. And with Deviant I wanted more surprise. The tone and mood of the work, while beautiful and compelling at times, was again so dominant and consistent that I was often lulled into a sense of neutrality about the experience. Deviations from the graphical experience, certainly with such strong designs as these, would have added more intensity to the users' explorations.

I Like This Work, so What the Hell Am I Talking About?

But then that isn't fair now is it. I've read Donna's dissertation, and know, somewhat, the intent of Deviant. And certainly artists should not be demanded to reveal intent (although obviously this being part of a dissertation there was no choice). But this work didn't feel to me to be about intent, it was more about experience and graphic, about bringing a graphic novel to the screen, and then scrambling the sections, removing the text and adding depth via coloring and movement. About playing with perceptions of what the user might or might not expect. I find knowing why an author created an artwork, reading anything they've written about the artwork to be something that should be done only after viewing/playing with an artwork in various settings and on different days of the week, within divergent area codes and consumed with weather patterns at odds.

On the Rusted Big Toy They Continued Playing without Their Warmest Gloves

Such small changes, little buttons, peeking characters and leaves from branch tips. I loved the way Deviant inspired exploration, mapless adventuring on the treeless plains. And as I mentioned above, I wasn't concerned with the story or the development of any narrative line, and instead I searched for the hand, and for changes. At first I wondered if clicking all the flowers alive, or revealing the hiding places in certain orders, were part of some complex game structure that would then reveal more areas. And while it appeared that there was some of that "complete task before moving on" RPG play, much of the interaction was landscape and decoration (again damn nice surroundings).

One of the glorious aspects of Flash animating is the easy reuse of characters, animations, and movie clips (buttons). Of course the drawback to that ease of reuse is the often overuse of certain bits. And although I eventually stopped exploring trees or growing flowers, this work is so deep and with so many adventures that the repetitive nature of Flash reuse wasn't nearly the problem it is within most online animated works.

Dinner Bell Rings, Ring the Dinner Bell

I love sound. And I might have somehow missed the vital sounds of this work. But that withstanding I wanted more sound. Knowing the author's intent it seemed strange that the use of sound was largely omitted. There are small moments of drop or thud, or blip, but I wanted the same juxtaposition experienced within the organic alive/dead organisms and the clean graphic novel style, to be echoed or expanded or at least played with through the computer speakers. Many digital narratives often ignore sound, or use it sparingly. Using sound can be dangerous as it can dominate, twist, and destroy what is on the screen. A low drum or high pitch can make the word dog become menacing or whimsical. And with Deviant, a work so focused on mood through graphic, and drawn character, more play with sound certainly could have added to the layering of meaning and psychological spinning.

Sometimes There Are Not Enough Invitations for All Those Asking to Come

I can offer no greater compliment than to say that I want to see these characters, these drawn (and drawn in) creatures again. Net Artists are often too much like wealthy tourists. They pop into an idea, a tech method and new interface, a series of characters, and then they are compelled to move to new technologies, new graphics, new themes. This ever moving quality can lead to curious and alluring experimentations, but also leaves these spaces from the leaps, these holes in the landscape, stones without texture in a pond with only puddles. I'm not sure what that means except to implore the author/artist, to plead with Donna, to continue this storyless story, to take that semi creepy and super polished girl to the mountains or the ocean. Crawlers from the mouths of sharks will greet her there.