zines

By J. R. Carpenter, 17 March, 2014
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Abstract (in English)

Electronic Literature is a loaded and slippery category. It is rather dryly defined by the Electronic Literature Organization (what other art form needs a governing body?) as “works with important literary aspects that take advantage of the capabilities and contexts provided by the stand-alone or networked computer.” Does this mean everything or nothing?

If there’s one person who knows the ins and outs of e-Lit as a category and an institution, it’s J. R. Carpenter. The Canadian artist, writer, performer – and myriad other titles – first logged onto the internet in November 1993, and has been deeply invested in making work both online and off ever since. This work floats across all mediums: zines, novels, hypertext fictions and performances, all referencing and circling back on each other.

In February 2013, writer Elvia Wilk took part in a writing residency at the Banff Center called In(ter)ventions: Literary Practice at the Edge, a yearly program where J. R. is a member of faculty. Banff is also an important place in the development of J. R.’s work; it was during a 1995 residency there that she made her first hypertext project. Recently Elvia and J. R. caught up with each other in London to re-hash many of the issues they talked about while together at Banff – dissecting various (misleading) terms in the e-Lit field, going over projects both new and old, discussing code as performance writing, and ending up on a chain of imaginary islands.

Pull Quotes

EW: Code writing is a performance in which the text performs itself very literally.

JRC: It’s a great methodology to apply to something like digital literature, because you’ve got so many different processes happening at once. N. Katherine Hayles talks about the digital text as being “event-ialized.” I contact a server, and that server contacts another server somewhere, which sends something back, and then the source code performs in the browser, which calls on various aspects of the CPU to make activity happen…so it’s not just one text, it’s a text that’s distributed through what Deleuze & Guattari would call a “machinic assemblage.” This is how I think of the computer-generated texts and code narratives in my work.

By J. R. Carpenter, 17 January, 2014
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Abstract (in English)

November 2013 marked twenty years since artist, writer, performer, and researcher J. R. Carpenter first began using the internet as a medium for the creation and dissemination of experimental texts. This interview examines the material, formal, and textual traces of a number of pre-web media – including the LED scrolling sign, the slide projector, and the photocopy machine – which continue to pervade Carpenter’s digital work today.

Pull Quotes

Andrea Zeffiro: Could you set the scene, so to speak, as to what lead you online in 1993?

J.R. Carpenter: In 1993 I was in my third year of a Bachelor in Fine Arts at Concordia University in Montreal. I was majoring in Studio Art with a concentration in Fibers Structures and Sculpture. I was making stuff. Drawing, painting, sewing, crocheting, collage, book works, found object installations, assemblage. I didn’t own a computer. I was dead set against them. I hadn’t always been. I had a Commodore 64 as a kid that I mostly used to play text adventure games. One summer I spent a week at a Turbo Pascal Computer Camp. In retrospect, that was probably part of a cheaper-than-a-babysitter childcare scheme. I was a bit of a math wiz up until the 10th grade or so, after which point a succession of truly terrible math teachers turned me off. By the time I got to art school I had no idea what went on inside a computer. I had the impression that they were for other people and controlled by other people. Plus, they were expensive. I was extremely poor, and generally, however unwittingly, a Marxist. I had a roommate who had a computer. He spent a lot of time with it. Not even he could explain to me what went on inside of it. In the kitchen one morning he announced that he had renamed his hard drive Hard Dick, which certainly didn’t help matters.

It was one of my Fibers professors who finally dragged me kicking and screaming online. In 1992 Ingrid Bachmann launched an exhibition at The Walter Phillips Gallery at The Banff Centre called A Nomad Web: Sleeping Beauty Awakes, which was among the first networked art projects in Canada as far as I know.

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