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nextTechnology as Material material as protocol

Technology as Material

The material constraints of the world show us how to move through and with the world. This is a fifth way that I like to talk about technology.

For instance, clay works as clay; the ceramicist works fluidly with clay only because of her experience with the material of clay. This is a way of thinking and feeling that artists know very well — the material, the stuff of the world, rules our potential for action. And it does so without remorse. In other words, the world doesn’t much care what we want it to do, but neither does it not care. Fundamentally, the world does just what it does, without fanfare, without truth, without lies.

For example, if a photographer's shutter speed and f-stop don’t correspond with the environment, the frame is underexposed, or overexposed, and no rational argument will sway the balance. The same for the painter: if the paint and canvas do not adhere, the picture falls to the floor. And for the dancer: if the body is not toned and flexible, the dance collapses.

In practice the artist understands that persuasive argument holds very little power in the studio. From the perspective of material, artists realize that they are locked in a dialog with the world, and that their desire and sense of agency must negotiate with the world for meaning through non-rational means.

The artist knows that this is simply the way that material behaviors are governed by material rules. In fact, the first job of the artist is to learn those rules — where to put your hand in order to pull the clay wall up, for example. The second job is to learn how to break those rules — that is, how to see beyond the default values, to tease out and play with inherited biases.

By another name these rules are known as protocol. As contemporary technologists we’re comfortable with this word, but we sometimes forget where it comes from, and what it means.

At root, protocol refers to behavior that is governed by rules. For artists, those rules emerge from the material of the world. For digital artists, our material is the code — the binary, the zeros and ones; but the relationship we have with that material is the same as the relationship the ceramicist has with clay. In other words, material requires respect, care, discipline, and above all, time for playing, for touching, for exploring, for failing, if we hope to learn how to see past its momentary and specific default values.

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