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Note that we had to hit the "pause" button on our reblogging activities a while ago (mainly because we ran out of time, but also because we received complaints from a major image stock company about some images that were displayed on | rblg, an activity that we felt was still "fair use" - we've never made any money or advertised on this site).
Nevertheless, we continue to publish from time to time information on the activities of fabric | ch, or content directly related to its work (documentation).
The exhibition Beneath the Skin, Between the Machines just opened at HOW Art Museum (Hao Art Gallery) and fabric | ch was keen to be invited to create a large installation for the show, also intented to be used during a symposium that will be entirely part of the exhibition (panels and talks as part of the installation therefore). The exhibition will be open between January 15 - April 24 2022 in Shanghai.
Along with a selection of chinese and international artists, curator Liaoliao Fu asked us to develop a proposal based on a former architectural device, Public Platform of Future-Past, which in itself was inspired by an older installation of ours... Heterochrony.
This new work, entitled Platform of Future-Past, deals with the temporal oddity that can be produced and induced by the recording, accumulation and storage of monitoring data, which contributes to leaving partial traces of "reality", functioning as spectres of the past.
We are proud to present this work along artists such as Hito Steyerl, Geumhyung Jeong, Lu Yang, Jon Rafman, Forensic Architecture, Lynn Hershman Leeson and Harun Farocki.
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Last but not least and somehow a "sign of the times", this is the first exhibition in which we are participating and whose main financial backers are a blockchain and crypto-finance company, as well as a NFT platform. Both based in China.
More information about the symposium will be published.
"Man is only man at the surface. Remove the skin, dissect, and immediately you come to machinery.” When Paul Valéry wrote this down, he might not foresee that human beings – a biological organism – would indeed be incorporated into machinery at such a profound level in a highly informationized and computerized time and space. In a sense, it is just as what Marx predicted: a conscious connection of machine[1]. Today, machine is no longer confined to any material form; instead, it presents itself in the forms of data, coding and algorithm – virtually everything that is “operable”, “calculable” and “thinkable”. Ever since the idea of cyborg emerges, the man-machine relation has always been intertwined with our imagination, vision and fear of the past, present and future.
In a sense, machine represents a projection of human beings. We human beings transfer ideas of slavery and freedom to other beings, namely a machine that could replace human beings as technical entities or tools. Opposite (and similar, in a sense,) to the “embodiment” of machine, organic beings such as human beings are hurrying to move towards “disembodiment”. Everything pertinent to our body and behavior can be captured and calculated as data. In the meantime, the social system that human beings have created never stops absorbing new technologies. During the process of trial and error, the difference and fortuity accompanying the “new” are taken in and internalized by the system. “Every accident, every impulse, every error is productive (of the social system),”[2]and hence is predictable and calculable. Within such a system, differences tend to be obfuscated and erased, but meanwhile due to highly professional complexities embedded in different disciplines/fields, genuine interdisciplinary communication is becoming increasingly difficult, if not impossible.
As a result, technologies today are highly centralized, homogenized, sophisticated and commonized. They penetrate deeply into our skin, but beyond knowing, sensing and thinking. On the one hand, the exhibition probes into the reconfiguration of man by technologies through what’s “beneath the skin”; and on the other, encourages people to rethink the position and situation we’re in under this context through what’s “between the machines”. As an art institute located at Shanghai Zhangjiang Hi-Tech Industrial Development Zone, one of the most important hi-tech parks in China, HOW Art Museum intends to carve out an open rather than enclosed field through the exhibition, inviting the public to immerse themselves and ponder upon the questions such as “How people touch machines?”, “What the machines think of us?” and “Where to position art and its practice in the face of the overwhelming presence of technology and the intricate technological reality?”
Departing from these issues, the exhibition presents a selection of recent works of Revital Cohen & Tuur Van Balen, Simon Denny, Harun Farocki, Nicolás Lamas, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Lu Yang, Lam Pok Yin, David OReilly, Pakui Hardware, Jon Rafman, Hito Steyerl, Shi Zheng and Geumhyung Jeong. In the meantime, it intends to set up a “panel installation”, specially created byfabric | chfor this exhibition, trying to offer a space and occasion for decentralized observation and participation in the above discussions. Conversations and actions are to be activated as well as captured, observed and archived at the same time.
[1]Karl Marx, “Fragment on Machines”,Foundations of a Critique of Political Economy
Duration: January 15-April 24, 2022
Artists: Revital Cohen & Tuur Van Balen, Simon Denny, fabric | ch, Harun Farocki, Geumhyung Jeong, Nicolás Lamas, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Lu Yang, Lam Pok Yin, David OReilly, Pakui Hardware, Jon Rafman, Hito Steyerl, Shi Zheng
Curator: Fu Liaoliao
Organizer: HOW Art Museum, Shanghai
Lead Sponsor: APENFT Foundation
Swiss participation is supported by Pro Helvetia Shanghai, Swiss Arts Council.
(Swiss speakers and performers appearing in the educational events will be updated soon.)
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Work by fabric | ch
HOW Art Museum has invited Lausanne-based artist group fabric | ch to set up a “panel installation” based on their former project “Public Platform of Future Past” and adapted to the museum space, fostering insightful communication among practitioners from different fields and the audiences.
“Platform of Future-Past” is a temporary environmental device that consists in a twenty meters long walkway, or rather an observation deck, almost archaeological: a platform that overlooks an exhibition space and that, paradoxically, directly links its entrance to its exit. It thus offers the possibility of crossing this space without really entering it and of becoming its observer, as from archaeological observation decks. The platform opens- up contrasting atmospheres and offers affordances or potential uses on the ground.
The peculiarity of the work consists thus in the fact that it generates a dual perception and a potential temporal disruption, which leads to the title of the work, Platform of Future-Past: if the present time of the exhibition space and its visitors is, in fact, the “archeology” to be observed from the platform, and hence a potential “past,” then the present time of the walkway could be understood as a possible “future” viewed from the ground…
“Platform of Future-Past” is equipped in three zones with environmental monitoring devices. The sensors record as much data as possible over time, generated by the continuously changing conditions, presences and uses in the exhibition space. The data is then stored on Platform Future-Past’s servers and replayed in a loop on its computers. It is a “recorded moment”, “frozen” on the data servers, that could potentially replay itself forever or is waiting for someone to reactivate it. A “data center” on the deck, with its set of interfaces and visualizations screens, lets the visitors-observers follow the ongoing process of recording.
The work could be seen as an architectural proposal built on the idea of massive data production from our environment. Every second, our world produces massive amounts of data, stored “forever” in remote data centers, like old gas bubbles trapped in millennial ice.
As such, the project is attempting to introduce doubt about its true nature: would it be possible, in fact, that what is observed from the platform is already a present recorded from the past? A phantom situation? A present regenerated from the data recorded during a scientific experiment that was left abandoned? Or perhaps replayed by the machine itself ? Could it already, in fact, be running on a loop for years?
Platform of Future-Past, Scaffolding, projection screens, sensors, data storage, data flows, plywood panels, textile partitions
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Platform of Future-Past (2022)
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Beneath the Skin, Between the Machines (exhibition, 01.22 - 04.22)
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Platform of Future-Past was realized with the support of Pro Helvetia.
Note: speaking about time, not in time, out of time, etc. and as a late tribute to Stephen Hawking, this experiement full of malice from him regarding the possibilities of time travel.
Who among us has never fantasized about traveling through time? But then, who among us hasn't traveled through time? Every single one of us is a time traveler, technically speaking, moving as we do through one second per second, one hour per hour, one day per day. Though I never personally heard the late Stephen Hawking point out that fact, I feel almost certain that he did, especially in light of one particular piece of scientific performance art he pulled off in 2009: throwing a cocktail party for time travelers — the proper kind, who come from the future.
"Hawking’s party was actually an experiment on the possibility of time travel," writes Atlas Obscura's Anne Ewbank. "Along with many physicists, Hawking had mused about whether going forward and back in time was possible. And what time traveler could resist sipping champagne with Stephen Hawking himself?" "
By publishing the party invitation in his mini-series Into the Universe With Stephen Hawking, Hawking hoped to lure futuristic time travelers. You are cordially invited to a reception for Time Travellers, the invitation read, along with the the date, time, and coordinates for the event. The theory, Hawking explained, was that only someone from the future would be able to attend."
Alas, no time travelers turned up. Since someone possessed of that technology at any point in the future would theoretically be able to attend, does Hawking's lonely party, which you can see in the clip above, prove that time travel will never become possible? Maybe — or maybe the potential time-travelers of the future know something about the space-time-continuum-threatening risks of the practice that we don't. As for Dr. Hawking, I have to imagine that he came away satisfied from the shindig, even though his hoped-for Ms. Universe from the future never walked through the door. “I like simple experiments… and champagne,” he said, and this champagne-laden simple experiment will continue to remind the rest of us to enjoy our time on Earth, wherever in that time we may find ourselves.
Based in Seoul, Colin Marshall writes and broadcasts on cities and culture. His projects include the book The Stateless City: a Walk through 21st-Century Los Angeles and the video series The City in Cinema. Follow him on Twitter at @colinmarshall or on Facebook.
Note: I re-reblog this article about The 10'000 Years Clock because in the meantime (since last decembre, when I first rebloged it), I learned that this is a project from Stewart Brand (a.k.a. The Whole Earth Catalogue) and its Long Now Foundation.
The Earth's rotation is notoriously unpredictable. So how can a clock keep time for 10,000 years?
Ten thousand years is about the age of civilisation. Archaeologists have a few relics that have spanned this period, mostly stone tools and works of art. But most evidence of the earliest civilisations has long crumbled into dust.
So the plan to build a mechanical clock that will keep time for the next ten thousand years is hugely ambitious. And yet that is exactly the goal of the Long Now Foundation, an organisation set up to promote long term thinking and responsibility.
These guys are currently building a prototype of their clock inside a mountain in Texas near the border with New Mexico. And today, Danny Hillis at the foundation and a few pals, outline the way in which it will keep time.
Keeping time over such a period generates numerous challenges. First is ensuring the mechanical integrity of the machinery, which they achieve with long-lasting materials such as titanium, ceramics, quartz and sapphire.
Just as important is the environment: a series of tunnels carved into a mountainside in the high desert. Inside the mountain, the conditions are dry and the temperature constant.
Outside, however, the temperature varies between dessert extremes of hot and freezing. Hillis and co plan to exploit this temperature difference to power the clock using metal rods that change in length as the temperature varies. Human visitors will also be able to wind it.
As for time, the heart of the clock is a titanium pendulum with a 10 second cycles. Pendulum Time advances one unit once every 30 cycles, in other words every five minutes.
The rest of the clock is a digital computer using Pendulum Time as an input and generating analogue outputs in the form of various displays of time.
The mechanism first calculates Uncorrected Solar Time using a straightforward equation of time, which has been precomputed for the next ten thousand years to within the accuracy of the Earth's variable rotation.
Next, the clock calculates Solar Time using a correction provided by a solar sychroniser: a vertical chamber that heats up when the sun is directly overhead and shines into it. This can add or take away a tick if the clock is out of sync. "The correction is positive if the Sun is detected before the just-before-noon tick, and negative if it is detected after the just after-noon tick," say Hillis and co.
An obvious problem occurs if the Sun is obscured for long periods of time, perhaps because of dust from a volcanic eruption. In that case, the clock will keep uncorrected solar time until the Sun becomes visible again. Then it can correct the time in 5 minutes steps each sunny day.
It is this mechanism that corrects for any changes in the Earth's rotation, caused by climate change, shifts in the Earth's crust and so on. An accumulation of ice at the poles will cause the rotation to speed up, for example.
But provided the clock does not drifted by more than 12 hours, it should return to the right time. "This allows the clock to successfully recover after more than a century of overcast skies," say Hillis and co.
The clocks uses Corrected Solar Time to generate a Displayed Solar Time that visitors will see. It also calculates Orrery Time, a display of the position and phase of the Moon, the tropical year, the sidereal day, orbits of the visible planets, and the precession of the Earth's axis.
The plan is to use the lessons from building this prototype to create another clock in a mountain in Nevada. After that, the creators hope that other groups around the world will make their own millennium clocks, thereby spreading the pattern of long term thinking.
A profoundly impressive project.
Personal comment:
Obviously we are interested in "dimensions" and the way to architecture or interact with them. In this case, it is particularly interesting to underline the relationship between the construction of the clock (its materials, architecture) and the environment (the tunnels) that could/should last unchanged for 10'000 years.
Working on the game controller book lately, I became fascinated by visual representations of time: evolutionary trees, time-series, timelines, etc. A great resource about this is certainly “Cartographies of Time: a history of the timeline” by Daniel Rosenberg and Anthony Grafton.
The book is a comprehensive history of graphic representations of time in Europe and the United States from 1450 to the present:
“ From medieval manuscripts to websites, Cartographies of Time features a wide variety of timelines that in their own unique ways–curving, crossing, branching–defy conventional thinking about the form. A fifty-four-foot-long timeline from 1753 is mounted on a scroll and encased in a protective box. Another timeline uses the different parts of the human body to show the genealogies of Jesus Christ and the rulers of Saxony. Ladders created by missionaries in eighteenth-century Oregon illustrate Bible stories in a vertical format to convert Native Americans. Also included is the April 1912 Marconi North Atlantic Communication chart, which tracked ships, including the Titanic, at points in time rather than by their geographic location, alongside little-known works by famous figures, including a historical chronology by the mapmaker Gerardus Mercator and a chronological board game patented by Mark Twain.“
There’s also this gem at the end of the book, a sort of “Fog of war” representation:
Why do I blog this? Beyond the use of these as models to try different representations of game controller evolutionary trees, I am fascinated by the ways these timelines also add interesting spatial components on top of time-related visualizations.
Taking old World War II photos, Russian photographer Sergey Larenkov carefully photoshops them over more recent shots to make the past come alive. Not only do we get to experience places like Berlin, Prague, and Vienna in ways we could have never imagined, more importantly, we are able to appreciate our shared history in a whole new and unbelievably meaningful way. Update: Months after this post went viral, we were able to get in touch with Larenkov to ask him more about this series. Read that exclusive interview here.
Personal comment:
We blogged on something similar already, but here comes another set of pictures of "ghosts" spaces. Like if the past could be unfolded from the present. Time interferences.
Of course, we see some similarities here between this post and the one above about China Miéville's book "the City and The City", only here the "city and the cities" have existences in different time frames.
A stranger in a strange place, you land on a snow-covered city and this suddenly feels as refreshing as being slapped without warning. Like sleep deprivation, you remember you need these abrupt changes to take you out of a lukewarm, pleasing state of hibernation. You feel privileged. You are part of an apparently disappearing sect: travelers of rare bliss, exchangers of precisely located, yet homeless knowledges – the yesteryear voyagers who have been slowly, but surely, substituted by passive tourists and predatory traders.
Like if entering a proper nuit blanche, as soon as you arrive to the core of this city you find yourself visiting a contemporary art museum at 1.00 am – this hour still being your unquestionable biological time. And this museum is full of people, and you enjoyably rediscover the powerful work of Anri Sala, or come across artists like Young & Giroux. Mostly, you take in pieces that you’ve never seen before, and yet feel pleasantly close to home. A satisfying cultural acclimation, as it would be.
A few hours later, you will remember being in Tokyo on a reverse timetable. You will remember assaulting the streets for food at around 4.00 am, a harmless vampire looking out for the nearest 24/7. You will recall feeling sleepy at 7.00 pm and abandoning yourself to the same chronological cycle, over and over again. As it were, in this unexpected enclave of French language in America you find yourself reading Barthes between 4.00 and 8.00 am. You register the light coming in. Then you write. Just another way of getting lost – and found – in the delights of translation.
This one time you refuse to change the hour in you mobile phone. You stubbornly stick with your time zone. You will experience four days of a slightly dislocated timetable. As such, your panel conversation takes place at 11.00 pm, and by 1.30 am you are still discussing if and why architectural writing is undergoing a fictional turn. (A member of the audience suggests that maybe we are no longer interested in the truth. You counter that we may solely be bored or, even worse, giving in to the perverse logic that entertainment must take the lead in even pedagogical and disciplinary matters.) Dinner finishes at 5.00 am.
Two days after, you are still waking up at 4.00 am, local time. It is Saturday and four hours until breakfast. You make the usual morning skype call to your family. Then you head for Stereo, like a 12 year-old who skips Sunday school to join the after hours crowd. It turns out that Montreal has an interesting electronic scene and is twinned to your own city by a legendary sound system. And as they used to say, M.A.N.D.Y and Troy Pierce are in the house.
It’s a long time since you’ve been clubbing on your own. In this dance floor sunglasses after dark are obviously fashionable. A guy wears a T-shirt that says: “Egypt woke me up.” Did it really? Fortunately, at this stage social interaction is no longer required. As ever in the past, you are here exclusively for the acoustic engineering. As the sound involves you, your mind fills with words you will eventually write down. You reflect that bad techno is like any other form of porn, too lastingly engaged in some basic arrangement. Then again, the most layered electronica of post-Reich crop is the be-bop of our era.
Music is probably the clearest way to understand the fundamental play of novelty and obsolescence in our mental life. Novelty is an addiction. Even if it would be repetition that, as Barthes put it, “engendrerait elle-même la jouissance.” As architects like to believe in durability, they mostly reject novelty as a motor of their own doings. Nonetheless, architecture too is subject to rules of cultural consumption. And those dictate that we want our brain cells constantly rearranged by new arrangements of old and new fragments.
Three hours listening to music that you had never heard before and you are ready for the last, long day you will spend in town. The hypnotic beats have made you strangely apt to appreciate Buckminster Fuller’s Biosphere and Moshe Safdie’s still surprising Habitat 67 – even if you are walking from one to the other alone under a severe snow blizzard. The trance-like quality of those “rythmes obsessionels” have opened your mind to the Mile End’s graphic novel stores and the weird and wonderful ephemera shops of Boulevard St. Laurent – even if you are long past your regular dinnertime.
The morning you leave town you are woken up by the alarm clock at 5.30 am. Local time is catching up with your body. It is forcing you to conform. You timely escape into the airport. By 10.00 am you are in New York. One of those places, if not the place, which crisply illuminates how precious it is to breathe the air of the city. A few hours are enough.
Just before you definitely head home, five hours is what it takes to once again verify how a city can remain itself and yet retain an ever-unbelievable degree of new stimuli. Indeed, what Georg Simmel has once dubbed the mental life of the metropolis here translates in the peculiar feeling that the spur of the new it too can be enduringly inscribed into the flesh of stones.
Brazilian photographer Diego Kuffer takes the concept of photomontage to another level in his series, In Transit...
Recently posted to his website (and noted on BoingBoing), Kuffer's pixellated-looking work presents several images of the same thing – be it a merry-go-round or traffic on an underpass – chopped up into a composite image.
In Transit 12
Unlike the traditional 'photomontage' technique of overlaying printed images to form a unified picture – which everyone from me to David Hockney has had a go at (why not just use a wide angle lens?) – Kuffer's creations suggest what is and isn't there in any given stretch of time. Almost like a still image of a whole film, if that were possible.
After experimenting with the medium, Kuffer explains on his website, he became frustrated at only being able to capture "instants".
"So, I decided to hack photography," he writes, "[taking] the technique behind movie making and applying it to my photos. Photographing the same instant several times, slicing and dicing the results and mixing it all together chronologically. This way I was able to capture a moment, not showing what exactly happened, but at least showing that a moment happened."
In Transit 18
While some of the images perhaps don't record the most interesting of subjects and are more concerned with capturing the 'movement' of a street scene, for example, some of the more abstract pieces are really rather beautiful.
All photos by Jo Teeuwisse, except otherwise noted. See the full Flickr set here.
Jo Teeuwisse is a historical consultant and, apparently, a Photoshop genius. Her work involves taking photos of Amsterdam during the 1940s and then superimposing them on modern photos. The results are these amazing, ghostly collisions of past and present. You can see more (plus the original old photos) on the project's Flickr page. The captions are hers, and all images are used with permission.
"Liberation Parade on June 29, 1945 in the Vijzelstraat, Amsterdam."
"We see three members of the scouting movement. The scouts had been forbidden by the Nazis and as soon as the war came to an end they put on their old uniforms and started helping the resistance and the Allies."
"Here you see the SS recruitment office. A member of the resistance took this with his camera probably hidden under his coat."
"Liberation Parade on June 29, 1945 in the Vijzelstraat, Amsterdam."
"Molenkade in Duivendrecht, may 1945, people are waiting for the liberators."
Photo by Kees.
"Reguliersgracht in Amsterdam, these people worked in a factory, the office part was perhaps on one of these buildings."
"A group of young factory workers posing probably outside the factory during the war."
Personal comment:
It's kind of trivial in a way (not the content, but to mix, or usually rather compare past and recent images of the same place), but I like this idea of time twinning mediated by location. It's a bit lke if past or future could be unfolded from present. It reminds me of this old post about a iPhone app, Street Museum that did the same in AR mode.
As engaging as it is an excellent concept, The Clock is the latest video installation by Christian Marclay now on at the White Cube Mason’s Yard. A chronological collage that pieces film footage into a twenty-four hour clock, using the illusionary devices that carry you through the duration of a cinematic narrative – characters checking watches, dramatic shots of a clock on the mantle piece, etc – by localising the time zone of a fictional event, it’s as if fantasy is replaced with real time.
This blog is the survey website of fabric | ch - studio for architecture, interaction and research.
We curate and reblog articles, researches, writings, exhibitions and projects that we notice and find interesting during our everyday practice and readings.
Most articles concern the intertwined fields of architecture, territory, art, interaction design, thinking and science. From time to time, we also publish documentation about our own work and research, immersed among these related resources and inspirations.
This website is used by fabric | ch as archive, references and resources. It is shared with all those interested in the same topics as we are, in the hope that they will also find valuable references and content in it.
