détournement

Description (in English)

by rt to pt, with advertising soundbites speeches + - slogans advertisements jingles. constellation ?! Combinatory

Description (in original language)

por rt para pt, com propaganda soundbites discursos +- slogans advertisements jingles. constelação ?! Combinatória

Description in original language
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Contributors note

Rui Torres: txt, xml, html, snd; Nuno Ferreira: js, html

Description (in English)

The Pleasure of the Coast: A Hydro-graphic Novel is a bilingual web-based work in English and French. This work was commissioned by the « Mondes, interfaces et environnements à l’ère du numérique » research group at Université Paris 8 in partnership with the cartographic collections of the Archives nationales. The title and much of the text in the work détourne Roland Barthes’ The Pleasure of the Text (1973), replacing the word ‘text’ with the word ‘coast’. The images are drawn from an archive of coastal elevations made on a voyage for discovery to the South Pacific by the French hydrographer Beautemps-Beaupré (1793). In French, the term ‘bande dessinée’ refers to the drawn strip. What better term to describe the hydrographic practice of charting new territories by drawing views of the coast from the ship? In English, the term for ‘bande dessinée’ is ‘graphic novel’. In this hydro-graphic novel, Barthes’ détourned philosophy inflects the scientific and imperialist aspirations of the voyage with an undercurrent of bodily desire. Excerpts from An Introduction to the Practice of Nautical Surveying and the Construction of Sea-Charts, written by Beautemps-Beaupré intermingle with excerpts from Suzanne and the Pacific (1921), a symbolist novel by Jean Giraudoux written in direct opposition to the mechanistic view of science based on the assumption of an objective reality. This three language system unfolds in long horizontally scrolling web pages, mimicking the coast as it slips past the ship. This is a work of overlapping peripheries. It takes place, as it were during a period of imperialist expansion. These newly discovered coastlines are written over the surface of a topography which had already been inscribed by its inhabitants through thousands of years of use.  The practice of hydrography sits at the peripheries of our contemporary understanding of the technology underpinning the maps of the world we know today.

Pull Quotes

I summon simply a circular memory: the impossibility of living outside the infinite coast.

I left for another world as for a coasting voyage, innocently; trying to see all of France, like an island, as I left it behind. I made a sketch of the land commencing with those parts which, being most remote, were the least liable to change in appearance. I savoured the sway of formulas, the reversal of origins, the ease which brings the anterior coast out of the subsequent coast. At last the sky appeared, the whole sky, so pure, so laden with stars.

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The Pleasure of the Coast || J. R. Carpenter, 2019
Technical notes

this work is not optimised for phones

By J. R. Carpenter, 24 June, 2015
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issue 14
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Abstract (in English)

Not quite a short story, not quite a stage play, ‘Once upon a Tide’ is just one of those moments in literature when time … stands … still. When plot advances by simply refusing to budge. One of those waiting times, slack tides, great hollows within which heat intensifies, cold deepens, night thickens, fevers rage, or the sun continues its relentless blaze. Tension builds, and still nothing happens; neither the sight of a sail on the horizon nor the slightest breath of wind. It is within these long stillnesses that sailors’ yarns unravel. In Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (1899), the entirety of Marlow’s tale is recounted in one evening whilst sitting utterly still on the deck of a ship moored on the Thames. In the pitch dark and the heavy night air of the river, the narrator strains to discern meaning: ‘I listened, I listened on the watch for the sentence, for the word, that would give me the clue to the faint uneasiness inspired by this narrative that seemed to shape itself without human lips…’.

In fiction, these long feverish pauses eventually break. In a variable text, however, we may hover forever within the tense and nuanced relation between reading, listening, watching, and waiting for the sentence, the word, the clue…

(Source: J. R. Carpenter, The Junket)

Pull Quotes

There is no logical reason to cause Conrad-esque characters to speak Shakespearian dialogue. The compulsion to do so is born of reading and re-reading sea stories across genres and across centuries. The reader of ‘Once Upon a Tide’ is encouraged to do the same – read and re-read, aloud if possible.

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Description (in English)

‘Once upon a Tide’ is a variable, restless, shifting narrative. Turns of phrase, stage directions, and lines of dialogue from Shakespeare’s The Tempest (1610-11) are randomly, repeatedly, and somewhat enigmatically recombined within a close, tense, ship-bound setting reminiscent of Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Sharer (1910), or The Shadow-Line (1916). On the deck of a ship off the shore of an island, two interlocutors are closely observed by a narrator who remains hidden from view.

Not quite a short story, not quite a stage play, ‘Once upon a Tide’ is just one of those moments in literature when time … stands … still.

(Source: J. R. Carpenter, The Junket)

Pull Quotes

Once upon a perigee tide we sailed past a lagoon, our ship charmed. On the forecastle deck two stout men sat mending nets. From their looks I wondered that they had come from calmer shores, certainly none so desolate as these.

Once upon an apogee tide we piloted past a cliff, our ship a brave vessel. On the poop deck two mean boatswains squated twisting tales. From their looks I assumed that the pair had set out from foreign shores, certainly none so harsh as these.

Once upon a spring tide we piloted past a delta, our ship dashed all to pieces. On the tween deck two old strangers loitered mending nets. From their apparel I reasoned that both had sailed from braver shores, surely none so harsh as these.

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Once Upon a Tide || J. R. Carpenter
By J. R. Carpenter, 18 May, 2015
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Abstract (in English)

An article on the creation and critical context of J. R. Carpenter's web-based work "Walks from City Bus Routes", which uses JavaScript to randomly and endlessly recombine illustrations and portions of text from an Edinburgh City Transport booklet published in the 1950sand bus and tram route icons from a City of Edinburgh Transport Map published in the 1940s, resulting in a new guide ‘book’ which perpetually proposes an infinite number of plausible yet practically impossible walking routes through the city of Edinburgh, and and its book shops, confusing and confounding boundaries between physical and digital, reading and writing, fact and fiction.

Pull Quotes

Questions of place have long-pervaded my fiction writing and maps have figured prominently in many of my web-based works. An outline of a map of Nova Scotia served as the interface for one of my earliest web-based works, Mythologies of Landforms and Little Girls (1996). In The Cape (2005), I used an assortment of maps, charts, and diagrams borrowed from an Environmental Geologic Guide to Cape Cod National Seashore published in 1979 as stand-ins for family photographs. In In Absentia (2008) I used the Google Maps API to haunt the satellite view of the Mile End neighbourhood of Montreal with stories of former tenants forced out by gentrification. My first novel, Words the Dog Knows (2008) included an impossible map of ancient Rome. I’d never set out to map a place I’d never been before, but then sometimes maps seem to call places into being.

Though many of the paths, towpaths, grassy slopes, fields, and roundabouts referenced in the Edinburgh City Transport pamphlet no longer exist, as variables within JavaScript strings these past places are ascribed new locations in computer memory. Called as statements into this new narrative structure, these past places become potential (albeit imaginary) destinations once again (albeit for readers rather than walkers).

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Description (in English)

This web-based computer-generated guide 'book' perpetually proposes plausible yet practically impossible walking routes through the city of Edinburgh and its environs using JavaScript developed by Caden Lovelace and images and text culled from a City of Edinburgh Transport Map published by the Edinburgh Geographical Institute in the 1940s and a pamphlet called Walks from City Bus Routes published by Edinburgh City Transport in the late 1950s.

Pull Quotes

DIRECTIONS: Leave the bus and cross the bridge over the canal. Take the footpath about five yards to the left and continue north. Passing a derelict mill you will observe the rather florid facade of a small, unlikely building. Here there is a wide view of the hills - wasted, one feels, on the young, but no doubt comforting to their teachers. The path runs among thickets of rhododendron and flowering trees. The tower was built in 1972 and presented to the city in 1932. Turn Right into the road and follow the path which leads round the shoulder of the hill. If you care to pay the small fee to climb to the top, you will be rewarded with one of the best panoramas in the area. In late autumn the hawthorn hedges assume a remarkable colour. After a few yards, cross the road and continue. Continue along the road from the level crossing to the corner. This walk is not exciting. For the adventurous there is a further section of so-called promenade along the sea wall from the level crossing. The road continues between the grounds of the hospitals to the bus route. For bus route information see appendix.

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Walks from City Bus ROutes || J. R. Carpenter
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Walks from City Bus ROutes || J. R. Carpenter
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Walks from City Bus ROutes || J. R. Carpenter
By J. R. Carpenter, 22 November, 2014
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CC Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives
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Abstract (in English)

The term ‘writing coastlines’ implies a double meaning. The word ‘writing’ refers both to the act of writing and to that which is written. The act of writing translates aural, physical, mental and digital processes into marks, actions, utterances, and speech-acts. The intelligibility of that which is written is intertwined with both the context of its production and of its consumption. The term ‘writing coastlines’ may refer to writing about coastlines, but the coastlines themselves are also writing insofar as they are translating physical processes into marks and actions. Coastlines are the shifting terrains where land and water meet, always neither land nor water and always both. The physical processes enacted by waves and winds may result in marks and actions associated with both erosion and accretion. Writing coastlines are edges, ledges, legible lines caught in the double bind of simultaneously writing and erasing. These in-between places are liminal spaces, both points of departure and sites of exchange. One coastline implies another, implores a far shore. The dialogue implied by this entreaty intrigues me. The coastlines of the United Kingdom and those of Atlantic Canada are separated by three and a half thousand kilometres of ocean. Yet for centuries, fishers, sailors, explorers, migrants, emigrants, merchants, messengers, messages, packets, ships, submarine cables, aeroplanes, satellite signals and wireless radio waves have attempted to bridge this distance. These comings and goings have left traces. Generations of transatlantic migrations have engendered networks of communications. As narratives of place and displacement travel across, beyond, and through these networks, they become informed by the networks’ structures and inflected with the syntax and grammar of the networks’ code languages. Writing coastlines interrogates this in-between space with a series of questions: When does leaving end and arriving begin? When does the emigrant become the immigrant? What happens between call and response? What narratives resonate in the spaces between places separated by time, distance, and ocean yet inextricably linked by generations of immigration? This thesis takes an overtly interdisciplinary approach to answering these questions. This practice-led research refers to and infers from the corpora and associated histories, institutions, theoretical frameworks, modes of production, venues, and audiences of the visual, media, performance, and literary arts, as well as from the traditionally more scientific realms of cartography, navigation, network archaeology, and creative computing. "Writing Coastlines" navigates the emerging and occasionally diverging theoretical terrains of electronic literature, locative narrative, media archaeology, and networked art through the methodology of performance writing pioneered at Dartington College of Art (Bergvall 1996, Hall 2008). Central to this methodology is an iterative approach to writing, which interrogates the performance of writing in and across contexts toward an extended compositional process. "Writing Coastlines" will contribute to a theoretical framework and methodology for the creation and dissemination of networked narrative structures for stories of place and displacement that resonate between sites, confusing and confounding boundaries between physical and digital, code and narrative, past and future, home and away. "Writing Coastlines" will contribute to the creation of a new narrative context from which to examine a multi-site-specific place-based identity by extending the performance writing methodology to incorporate digital literature and locative narrative practices, by producing and publicly presenting a significant body of creative and critical work, and by developing a mode of critical writing which intertwines practice with theory. (Source: Author's Abstract)

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By J. R. Carpenter, 24 March, 2014
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9781844677207
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VIII, 197
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Approved by librarian
Abstract (in English)

(from the publisher) Over fifty years after the Situationist International appeared, its legacy continues to inspire activists, artists and theorists around the world. Such a legend has accrued to this movement that the story of the SI now demands to be told in a contemporary voice capable of putting it into the context of twenty-first-century struggles. McKenzie Wark delves into the Situationists' unacknowledged diversity, revealing a world as rich in practice as it is in theory. Tracing the group's development from the bohemian Paris of the '50s to the explosive days of May '68, Wark's take on the Situationists is biographically and historically rich, presenting the group as an ensemble creation, rather than the brainchild and dominion of its most famous member, Guy Debord. Roaming through Europe and the lives of those who made up the movement—including Constant, Asger Jorn, Michèle Bernstein, Alex Trocchi and Jacqueline De Jong—Wark uncovers an international movement riven with conflicting passions. Accessible to those who have only just discovered the Situationists and filled with new insights, The Beach Beneath the Street rereads the group's history in the light of our contemporary experience of communications, architecture, and everyday life. The Situationists tried to escape the world of twentieth-century spectacle and failed in the attempt. Wark argues that they may still help us to escape the twenty-first century, while we still can ...

Description (in English)

"...and by islands I mean paragraphs" casts a reader adrift on a sea of white space extending far beyond the horizon of the browser window, to the north, south, east and west. Navigating (with mouse, track pad, or arrow keys) reveals that this sea is dotted with islands... and by islands I mean paragraphs. These paragraphs are computer-generated. Their fluid compositions draw upon variable strings containing fragments of text harvested from a larger literary corpus - Deluze's Desert Islands, Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, Bishop's Crusoe in England, Coetzee's Foe, Ballard's Concrete Island, Hakluyt's Voyages and Discoveries, and lesser-known sources, including an out-of-date guidebook to the Scottish Isles and an amalgam of accounts of the classical and possibly fictional island of Thule. "Individually, each of these textual islands is a topic – from the Greek topos, meaning place. Collectively they constitute a topographical map of a sustained practice of reading and re-reading and writing and re-writing islands. In this constantly shifting sea of variable texts one never finds the same islands twice... and by islands, I do mean paragraphs."

I ♥ E-Poetry entry
Pull Quotes

Islands are a perfect topic. Topical islands come forward only under the condition that one is thoroughly lost. They are paragraphs. They show that insularity is a formal determination. Isolated writing is always without grammar or dictionary. The castaway constantly invokes the reader.

The island upon which I was cast away was a great rocky hill with a flat top. I thought I was to spend the rest of my days there. I might just as easily have been cast away on an island home of some foreign adventurer gone mad with solitude. An island without seed. I was carried by waves. I pursue with my own dull story. They say Britain is an island too, a great island. In every story there is a silence. Was it effrontery to say that? Questions echo in my head without answer. The world is full of islands. I am saved.

The island pointed towards the west and the decling sun. The forgotten traffic forced on relentlessly. Plunging through the grass. For the first time since the crash, clear of mind. Ten thousand pounds. You'll be able to buy the island. The grass festered over the ground.

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...and by islands I mean paragraphs || J. R. Carpenter
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...and by islands I mean paragraphs || J. R. Carpenter
Description (in English)

Google reads our emails, garners information from our personal messages and uses that profiling strategy to select “relevant” ads. It then displays those ads on the screen next to the very emails from which the information was initially taken.American Psycho was created by sending the entirety of Bret Easton Ellis’ violent, masochistic and gratuitous novel American Psycho through GMail, one page at a time. We collected the ads that appeared next to each email and used them to annotate the original text, page by page. In printing it as a perfect bound book, we erased the body of Ellis’ text and left only chapter titles and constellations of our added footnotes. What remains is American Psycho, told through its chapter titles and annotated relational Google ads.We were most curious how Google would handle the violence, racism and graphic language in American Psycho. In some instances the ads related to the content of the email, in others they were completely irrelevant, either out of time or out of place. In one scene, where first a dog and then a man are brutally murdered with a knife, Google supplied ample ads regarding knives and knife sharpeners. In another scene the ads disappeared altogether when the narrator makes a racial slur. Google's choice and use of standard ads unrelated to the content next to which they appeared offered an alternate window into how Google ads function — the ad for Crest Whitestrips Coupons appeared the highest number of times, next to both the most graphic and the most mundane sections of the book, leaving no clear logic as to how it was selected to appear. This "misreading" ultimately echoes the hollowness at the center of advertising and consumer culture, a theme explored in excess in American Psycho.

(Source: Mimi Cabell's project page for American Psycho)