As the director of a multi-disciplinary Website, I often find myself in the unanticipated position of offering Internet tutorials to people -- the majority of them from what we broadly call "the art world." Frequently, these introductions to the 'Net, and the World Wide Web, happen spontaneously in a one-on-one context. Recently, however, I had occasion to walk roughly a hundred interested parties -- attendees at the biennial Houston FotoFest this March -- through the making of our site.
Several patterns have begun to emerge from these varied experiences. For example, the two questions most frequently asked by my colleagues do not concern themselves with philosophical, social or aesthetic issues. Those questions, in order: "What about copyright?" and "How do you make money with this?"
There are many answers to both questions, of course. My responses (short versions): to the first, you do not surrender or void your copyright on anything by presenting it in cyberspace; to the second, any way you can -- and such ways are identifiable -- if that's your main concern.
Though hardly irrelevant, such questions seem marginal as opening inquiries in anyone's relationship to a new medium of mass communication. They suggest a short-sightedness, if not an actual blindness, in regard to the potential of a radically innovative technology. I'd trace this failure of vision to the remarkable fact that, although they certainly fit the demographic profile of Internet users, few of the art-world folks I speak with have ever explored the Internet, victims of a condition I've come to call (with apologies to Erica Jong) "fear of surfing."
This attitude has no parallel in my experience. When commercial television was introduced to this culture, in my childhood, many -- including my parents' boho/lefty/artsy crowd -- disdained and suspected it. If they hadn't read Adorno's critique, they'd certainly found Dwight Macdonald's. But that didn't stop them from turning "the boob tube" on to watch the Army-McCarthy hearings, or "Requiem for a Heavyweight," or the ballgame.
The comparison, though not exact, isn't inappropriate. Exploring the Internet doesn't involve anything more than using a computer mouse to point and click, a procedure far less complicated than running the remote control for your TV. Even if, like myself, they're technophrenic, most of those who've avoided the 'Net have long since learned (however grudgingly) to work on a computer and to use such programs as WordPerfect, Photoshop, PageMaker and various database/spreadsheet applications -- all of them requiring mastery of more complex skills than surfing. Just about everybody in the urban environment in this country knows somebody who's spending time out on the 'Net. Many if not most art-world types labor in workplaces that are -- or will shortly become, of necessity -- connected to the 'Net. And, with so-called "cyber-cafes" -- not "virtual" Websites like ours, but actual places where you can buy a mocha latte, rent an hour on the 'Net, and surf away to your heart's content -- springing up everywhere, the only remaining excuse for total Internet abstinence is neurotic anxiety.
As one who felt the same fear not too long ago, I empathize. I didn't even have an e-mail address until the spring of '95. Now, to my considerable surprise, I'm the organizer of a large-scale, content-heavy cyberspace environment. Nonetheless, I remain skeptical about the ultimate impact of this technology on our culture, and on creative activity in all media, and certainly hope to maintain my critical distance from it (while also developing a critical position grounded in hands-on experience with it from the production end).
In part, my decision to engage with the 'Net resulted from receiving an increasing stream of press releases and other notices concerning artists, photographers, critical journals, institutions and other art-world sources, announcing their presence on the Web. Many of those projects were Internet-specific. As a working critic and journalist, I simply couldn't afford to remain ignorant of this development. Additionally, it's becoming clear that this communication system may well become the locus of our ongoing national debate over freedom of speech, an issue that concerns me deeply. I could hardly speak convincingly to that issue without a knowledgeable relation to the underlying technology.
I am not urging you to create your own Website, but -- as a member of the art world, and as an engaged citizen -- to acquaint yourself with the Web, and the 'Net. Just as odds are (though they're changing rapidly) that you haven't spent any time on the Internet, I'd wager that neither have many of those most vociferously opinionating in public about the Internet. All of which makes the current clamorous discourse on the subject resemble the recent attempts to debate censorship productively with people who never attended a screening of "The Last Temptation of Christ" or saw a photograph by Andres Serrano. One expects such terrified, knee-jerk, rumor-driven reaction from the small-minded and uninformed, but not from the presumably educated and sophisticated, especially those who pride themselves on maintaining some proximity to the cutting edge of culture. Set aside your fear of surfing and at least test these waters; after all, they're lapping at your front door.
