+theory+

How does one judge the value or relevance of an online artwork? There
are two ways to answer this question: first, to define Web art in a
positive sense, looking at the specific qualities of network-based
artwork, and the second, defining it by what it is not.

Despite its newness as a medium, we are currently in the process of
specifying Web art's unique characteristics which imply a break with the
established order. The two approaches–negative and positive–seem
intimately linked, if not intractably connected. I will thus try to
articulate them in four related points.

1. The Web is first and foremost a technology for real time interaction.
It is no longer a question of interrogating actual objects, but of
interrogating an oncoming mass of information. Consequently the
relationship one has with Web objects is more interactive than
contemplative. It is a more active manner of looking in which
observation itself becomes interaction.

2. It is a communication without intermediary. These digitized objects
do not require an exhibition space in order to be displayed. They are
shown instead on servers that function around the clock, always
available to the user. In fact, it makes more sense to describe a new
type of intermediary where the institutional network for distribution is
replaced by a network of information technology. Of the many effects
emanating from this new technological platform, we realize that it is
much easier for artists to reach their audience. It is easier to create
an exchange of ideas in this environment free of picture frames,
pedestals, and spaces that hierarchize the diffusion and reception of
art. Using a Web server, the artist can both receive information from
users and at the same time be part of this larger group.

3. These days, we have lost contact with material bodies, textures,
shapes and even smells. Art on the Web is non-physical. It is not truly
a sensory experience. Artists and viewers are cut off from the real
world. It is no longer possible to appreciate the different conditions
of a physical object in a public or private space (the studio, the
gallery, the street, the desert, etc.). On the Web, the place of
exchange is altogether different: everything must be projected, in
thoughts and gestures, into this strange cybernetic space. In
cyberspace, the viewer's attention is seized by a considerable number of
virtualities surrounding us and in which we are immersed. These
virtualities propose a radically different mode of perception then when,
for example, a sculpture is surrounded by its viewers.

4. Interfaces create a narrow and constraining link between the physical
world of bodies and the virtual environment of machines. The Web's
graphical interfaces are extremely limited by bandwidth and modem speed.
They impose a different form of creativity on artists. For the time
being (and for a good time to come) one must be happy with the
presentation of art in a small glass screen where one's presence is
reduced to a tiny cursor. Art on the Web, therefore, is less than
spectacular, sometimes disappointing. It is at the same time impressive,
despite its limitations, since the relationship between the work and the
viewer is necessarily an intimate experience–and thus more human. It is
a relationship favorable to interactive communication, far from the
sanctified space of the institution and well anchored as it can be in
that virtual sea.

Far from having exhausted the theoretical stakes of Internet art, we now
have the basis to exercise judgment and to take account of what the Web
can and cannot allow. Does it matter what artists create on the
Internet, if their artistic production is limited by the specific
constraints of the medium? Maybe not, if they make net art without
questioning its characteristics, but nonetheless using it intelligently,
and creating work which has value in and of itself. But definitely yes,
if it feeds a critical dialog, even to the point where there is nothing
more to offer the user than a critique, where information has been
purposefully blurred. But the range between pure formal enjoyment and
digital deconstruction is deep and wide.

+practice+

Mouchette's "Flesh&Blood" (1998, http://mouchette.org/flesh/tong.html)
is located somewhere on this range. The work is light and engaging, at
the same time confrontational, and serves as a good starting point for
my inquiry. (Mouchette seems particularly pertinent to the question at
hand, as she received 177 votes in the annual net-art99 competition
[http://www.net-art.org/99].) Her work would still be representative of
Web art even if she never intended to make explicit the specificities
associated with the art form.

Let me be systematic about the analysis that follows by approaching the
four points enumerated above, but in a random order.

4. THE QUESTION OF THE INTERFACE. Mouchette is a net art pioneer, having
worked in the medium since 1996. This is no doubt why "Flesh&Blood"
exhibits a certain maturity, despite the artist's relative youth. Its
interface is as simple as it is efficient. Five Web pages present images
of her face pushed against the screen. Once they appear in the browser,
the images become the point of contact between the glass surface of the
user's screen and the glass surface of her scanner.

Her tongue, her lips, her ear, her eyelashes are pressed up behind this
surface as if the virtual world of digital images and the physical world
were one and the same reality. Mouchette even seems to invite the user
to bring their own face close to the screen to taste her, kiss her,
whisper secrets in her ear or fawn over her closed eyelashes. She works
to create a closeness which is powerful but illusionary, giving the
impression that the computer screen is nothing but a thin membrane
between two beings.

In this simple way, Mouchette cleverly raises the question of the
interface. The closeness she creates is actually located somewhere
between the graphical interface and the physical interface (the computer
screen). But what is the actual degree of closeness, since the distance
between the physical and the graphical can never be measured?

2. THE VALUE OF DIRECT COMMUNICATION BETWEEN THE ARTIST AND THE
AUDIENCE. At any time of day or night, one may visit Mouchette's site
and send her messages. And since the Web allows a direct relationship
with the user, the artist is able to explore in depth the possibility
for exchange. Mouchette is, in fact, very interested in the user's
experiences at her site, and gives users an opportunity on each page to
give their impressions. For example:

Finally, I can come that close to you
Do you also want to come that close to me?
Put your cheek on the monitor
How does it feel ?

There were several responses to her different questions. According to
the artist, several visitors responded literally–"It's cold," "It
tastes like glass, like static, like dust, etc."–and others more
figuratively–"your tongue tastes like peaches, like chicken, like
strawberries, it's truly delicious, very erotic," "it's disgusting, it's
vulgar, blechh."

On an initial viewing on could say: "Here is a good example of direct
communication between the artist and the audience." But that would seem
a little naive. One shouldn't look too closely at the "authenticity" of
these exchanges. The physical closeness between the participants is
purely theoretical, the questions she poses are not without a certain
irony and the entire premise is somewhat contrived. What's more, we're
talking here of someone who goes by the name of Mouchette and who has
given her age as thirteen for a number of years already… But one
doesn't have to believe all that in order to enjoy participating in her
project.

1. THE INTERACTIVE VISIT. The problem of interactivity in the work of
Mouchette has a complex presence. It functions in three ways: hypertext
(the core of the Web), written messages (How does my tongue taste?), and
the relationship between physical bodies (I kiss the screen).
Hypertext– the interconnection of Web pages–functions in real time, as
it should. On the other hand, written communication doesn't require the
artist's response. Even if the user's participation remains somewhat
disinterested, this would not inhibit the artist from eventually posting
their responses online–as she did in a similar way in her project
"Suicide Kit" (http://www.mouchette.org/suicide/xmasf.html). In the end,
while not going to the point of breaking down the interface, Mouchette
puts us back in the position of contemplating these images in a mirror
of our own solitude (see point 4).

3. VIRTUALITY AND IMMERSION. The artificial relationship between bodies
and faces is both veiled and revealed. This relationship creates a
transparent opening onto a simulated world, like a barrier, a screen
marking the limit of one's reality made of flesh and blood.

Virtuality is both literal (as in digital images) and symbolic (the
physical sensations are still somewhat weak). I don't actually touch
Mouchette's body, and her face doesn't sense the presence of mine. In
contrast to one's memory of actual experiences this immersion into
cyberspace is less than overwhelming. Only a physically interactive
screen would allow such immersion. Nevertheless, with the cursor, I
touch her lips, her ear and her eye. In this way, I cross through the
mirror and caress her face with my virtual hand. I realize that I must
cross into the interface, just as Mouchette has digitized her own image.
If I swim in this virtual world, would I be better able to sense her
dreams?

Applied Art or Critical Art?

The beautiful simplicity of the work (which takes into account the
technical limits of transferring work onto the Web) belies a deeper
complexity. By scratching the surface we are forced to question our own
participation in the project. First of all, the interfaces that lead to
cyberspace can both facilitate and obstruct, making the closeness either
possible or impossible. Within certain limits, technology allows
interactivity. We are far from true virtual reality and total immersion
on the Web, but this shouldn't dissuade artists from pushing the limits.

It is also not essential to privilege direct communication between
artist and audience. Sometimes certain artists play with collective
exchange in a naive way, often doing little more than helping create the
sovereignty of the "great communicator."

It is not enough simply to use the Web to create beautiful works without
questioning how they are made. And it is without doubt in this instance
where one finds the value and relevance of Mouchette's "Flesh&Blood."

[This article first appeared in Arch