Janet Bezzant –Manchester Metropolitan University.
‘Making knowledge
Why is on(c)e not enough?: Repetition and reflexivity – from real to virtual’. Stream-Repetition and Endurance

This paper revisits my interest in reflexivity in relation to textile process in real and digital domains.  Coming from a field of textiles that informs installation and computation work, repetition has been a consistent element in my practice although the textile itself is often absent. In my work I look at ways to examine relationships between material and virtual objects and how these contexts impact on our perception and cognition.

Reflexivity emerged for me as a term (being) used in relation to ways of knowing that had to do with the subject/object dynamic. A pivotal text by Brian Muller in the catalogue for an exhibition of painters called ‘Real Art: A New Modernism’[1]  finds him discussing the work of artists such as Ian Davenport, Torrie Begg, Jason Martin, et al., as being about paint, about the process of painting.  He described the phenomenon where the artist is involved in a reflexive dialogue with the paint and canvas, deliberately manipulating the materials to extrapolate the essence of the individual parts as a whole.  He also talked about the relationship of the viewer to the resulting work being one of involvement and construction of meaning.  The painting ‘accounts’ for the process if its making in the marks, drips, textures, strokes, pigments, mediums, across its surface and around its edges (that it) meditates between being an object of the artists construction and an object of the viewers interpretation.  The viewer is drawn into recognition that any abstraction they might infer is one of their own making.  The subject becomes implicated in the construction of the object.

Reflexivity: “the terms reflexive, reflexivity, and reflexiveness have been used in a variety of disciplines to describe the capacity of language and thought – of any system of signification – to turn or bend upon itself, to become an object to itself, and to refer to itself. Whether we are discussing things grammatical or cognitive, what is meant is reflex action or process linking self and other, subject and object”[2]

Some textile processes lend themselves to this phenomenon if presented to the viewer in particular ways. Working with most textile processes I realize there is an implicit understanding of the grid, that it structures our every move tacitly, it underpins form, structure and pattern.  In incrementally building a form, tiny repetitive actions slowly fill the field with units that sit side-by-side row after row. Methodically covering a surface with decoration our sense of balance and equilibrium is dictated by the X and Y coordinates of the surface plane.  It orders chaos, offers us positioning tools, gives us a location and an understanding of the unseen. 

[3] Jaqueline Wylie, Rumpelstiltskin 2, 1997, knitted painting, hand knit black and white wool, stretched on board, 86cm x 86cm

“the subject/researcher sees simultaneously the object of her or his gaze and the means by which the object (which may include oneself as subject) is being constituted.”[4]

For me this was a key interest, that an object could present itself in such a way as to implicate the observer into a relationship of perception and meaning making.  It seemed that process was necessary, that an artist working with their materials had to consciously acknowledge the innate qualities of the medium in the fabrication of the work, to let the materials and process reflect the materials and process rather than transform them into an abstraction. Thus Jaqueline Wylie’s work above exploits the knit process and the language of painting to implicate the viewer in ‘reading’ the work.

“The term 'reflexivity' is derived from the Latin reflexio/reflectere meaning 'to bend back on'. Applied to audio-visual practice, by extension of this etymological root, reflexivity refers to the capacity of film and television texts to draw attention to their existence as constructs. It is the process by which texts foreground their authorship and production, acknowledging their status as representation.”[4]
                  
Experimenting with the LambdaMOO core database programming language, I built an architectural space, the ‘dollshouse’, that replicated a grid space scale model I had constructed.  This object oriented programming models itself ontologically on the real world using the semantics of ‘parent’ and ‘child’ that have ‘properties’ that can be ‘inherited’. The idea was to explore differences between the physical and virtual representations of an imaginary world that represented and referred to the real world.  The user can wander from room to room in the ‘dollshouse’ and would encounter each room as a distinct space through text description of its décor, furnishings and contents, a labyrinth of 64 rooms.  All rooms have exits into the next, some had stairs up or down, some had objects that could be examined, manipulated, moved elsewhere for other users to discover. Things could be put on, under or in other containers. Conversations can happen between travelers whose paths cross in the same room.
telnet://valette.art.aca.mmu.ac.uk:7777)

In ‘On Theorizing Presence’[5] David Jacobson of Brandeis University looks at the users sense of immersion in the experience of text built virtual space.  He cites Csikszentmihalyi's theory of "flow" as closely resembling this experience,

“Conceptualized as a "flow" experience, presence entails a "merging of action and awareness," during which a person loses "self-consciousness" and a sense of time, focusing on "the present, blocking out the past and the future"

In the work I was looking at filters and prosthetics we encounter between ourselves and first hand experience that contributes to knowledge and meaning.

Would it be possible to achieve a reflexive relationship with computer rendered objects?  Where could the process of computation became self evident to the observer, allowing that closer understanding between subject and object? 

Husserl proposed a radical new phenomenological way of looking at objects by examining how we, in our many ways of being intentionally directed toward them, actually "constitute" them (to be distinguished from materially creating objects or objects merely being figments of the imagination); in the Phenomenological standpoint, the object ceases to be something simply "external" and ceases to be seen as providing indicators about what it is, and becomes a grouping of perceptual and functional aspects that imply one another under the idea of a particular object or "type".[6]

Part of what interested me about the reflexive condition was the relationship between medium and maker and that too was part of the reflexive process.  The material and tools needed to be learnt about and understood for their innate qualities and abilities through repetition – filling the space of the grid. Would the next unit tell me some thing about the last unit, would it be different, better, worse, identical, how would the last one look in relation to the new one, how would the whole now look over its collection of parts?

Arther M Young[7]  in his text ‘Reflexive Universe’ conceives of a ‘fourfold reality’ – a pattern of the learning cycle, a theory of process, a metaparadigm for the universe.  Process is described here as a sequence of actions taken to accomplish an end. Unconscious action, unconscious reaction, conscious reaction to conscious action described as a circle or arc – eventually a torus, something that circulates upon itself. As one acts, then reflects upon the consequences of that act, then builds that knowledge into the next similar act. The repetitive process induces reflexivity.  A process can be present and ‘account’ of itself in the resultant form, referring back to itself.  In the knitting process, for example,  we pick up needles, and wool. An experienced knowledgeable knitter will gauge the weight of the needles and the thickness of the thread for the appropriate match in relationship to the intended effect: i.e. a loose lacy knit, a tight felted knit…etc.  Then they will cast on, the weight of the needles feeling at first unfamiliar in the hands, the thread needing to be unravelled from the ball, all of these actions being done with what Heidegger would term tools ‘present at hand’.  Casting on, and beginning to knit, row after row begins to develop a continuum between a state of  ‘ready to hand’ and ‘present at hand’.  Every now and then you are pulled up by having to unravel the twisted thread from the ball.  The process moves in and out of your conscious attention.  Knitting is a solitary interaction of the maker with the materials at hand, the tools ‘withdraw’ as we are absorbed in the making.

Similarly in The Embodied Mind, Varela, Thompson and Rosch write,

“As one practices, the connection between intention and act become closer, until eventually the feeling of difference between them is almost entirely gone. One achieves a certain condition that phenomenologically feels neither purely mental nor purely physical; it is, rather, a specific kind of mind-body unity”[8]

The space of the computer is a box, a screen field bounded by the frame of the monitor. We negotiate this space abstractly through the tools of keyboard, mouse, visually by the visual plane of the monitor box.  Aurally we can immerse ourselves in sound through headphones.  The user interface is a gridded terrain; a space of fixed points, delimitation. 

Malcolm MacCullough in ‘the Practiced Digital Hand’ talks about the possibility of the computer as a tool to become ‘ready at hand’ and that we can interact through it in the creative process.  That the user, through manipulation of the abstract, notational information can mirror the repetitive hand movements, the incremental building and chipping away, refining and exploring that describes any crafting process in clay, wood, textile and so on. On the other hand, software is an abstraction of the implementation of the computer system.  It divorces us from the workings of the actions we are asking it to perform or that it is possible to perform – they are hidden by the real world metaphors of files, documents, cabinets, folders… To find this I had to look at the raw material of computation, how it is manipulated and is made self-evident.  To do this you have to go past the user interface to the code that the computer uses to perform.  Paul Dourish talks about

‘accountability, in this sense, means that the interface is designed so as to present, as part of its action, an “account” of what is happening.  The goal of the account is to make the action of the system concrete as a part of an ongoing interaction between the system and the user.  So, the account should not simply be an abstract description of the systems behaviour, but rather an explication of how the system’s current configuration is a response to the sequence of actions that has led up to this moment, and a step on the path toward completing the larger action in which it is engaged’ [9]

What Paul Dourish is articulating here is the desire for a more reflexive interaction with the workings of the computer. Key to his interest is embodied interaction that situates our experience of the world as implicit in the way we act in and upon the world. 

To reach this level of reflexivity with the computer artists are exploring the source code behind the user interface software, co-opting and manipulating the language with which the computer operates. One example would be generative pattern programming that is not only about the product but the creation of the means of production gets closers to digital reflexivity.  Patterns and artificial life forms are explored using the principles modulated on John Conways ‘game of life’, a cellular automation. A grid – the matrix is populated with ‘on’ and ‘off’ cells, within an nine square grid unit one square is switched ‘on’ and can remain on if at least three of its neighbors are ‘on’. In the next iteration the matrix adjusts in relation to these rules and so on - ad infinitum.  The results are always different and have an inbuilt ‘life’.  Squares can ‘die’ off with zero or one neighbour, can die of overcrowding with four or more neighbours and can be reborn if it has exactly three neighbours.  These and increasing complex rules and configurations are at the route of digital generative Artificial Life forms.  The grid again is fundamental to the action.

Through iterations, the field is calculated and then recalculated and recalculated constantly updating and re-arranging itself using the information dictated by rules preset. Patterns emerge that potentially never repeat, only the rules repeat with ever changing returns. But following one tangent here to autopoesis. Can the system start to learn about itself and start to change and update its rules as well as iterate the rules.   Autopoesis,[10] (Maturana and Varela) is a term coined by two Chilean scientists in their research into biological cell production, meaning a self organizing system that learns about and adapts itself to its conditions. Its action is reflexive in that it is cognizant of its context, can adapt to itself, assimilate and couple with other systems, and reproduce itself.  We are already seeing variant forms of auto-poeisis in our interactions with everyday computation, My mail programme knows that I use particular e-mail addresses and brings those up predicatively before others at the type of the first letter.

Hilary Carlisle – Beziers

Hilary Carlisle has exploited this generative system in her work with non-repeating pattern for textile prints

In Paul Dourish’s book ‘Where the Action Is’ he approaches his discussion about interactive computation from the standpoint of embodiment theories.  His focus is not on the subject/object but the space in between, on practice, on the actions of users with objects/systems, quoting
Heidegger – ‘knowing the world is not our primary way of being in the world. Meaning is embodied in practice, is enacted as we move about in the world’[11]

So what happens to these ideas when we move computation out of the traditional hardware into ever more dispersed and dematerialized states?  Physical computation will become embedded into our everyday environment offering us the promise of seamless manipulation of digital material, embodied interaction as we go about our daily practice.
The embodiment of interaction is informing developments in physical computation and the debate around tangible and ubiquitous computing.  Textile practice has a strong affiliation with developments in these fields as it forms a major part of our material world and culture.  Textile practice has long debated the relationship of tools to process, to ‘high’ and ‘low’ technologies. Tangible computing gives physical form to digital information, and allows the users to interact with and experience surrogate forms of computing through other materials.  Clothing and textile substrates are an expanding area of research in commercial, military, and artistic contexts.  The textile construction of weave is closely allied to that of pixel array display technology, Visson being one company having pioneered a woven digital display subsequently bought up by Philips.

Adam Greenfield has coined the term ‘everywhere’ [12] to describe the emergence of the computer out of its box into the world in various forms.  We have for the past five years or so seen the development, all be it crude in some instances, of forms of flexible screen/monitors, reactive and responsive surfaces and objects and portable connectivity.  Wearable and ubiquitous forms of technology are at our fingertips, we are being absorbed into new physical forms of computation.

Anke Loh, Dressing Light
Anke Loh, is one of the first designers to incorporate emerging technologies coming out of Philips research Labs from spin out company, Lumalive.com

“Just like food, clothes are part of our daily lives; they have become self-evident, and therefore started to fit in standard expectations. I want to pull them out of this role, by showing that you can change the function and point of view of a piece of clothing by only a very small operation.”[13]

On one hand the impetus is to embed technology out of sight, to function intuitively with our actions, and on the other hand to apply new technological developments to startle and revitalize in unexpected and novel ways.   With technology being so embodied and at hand are we now bypassing the opportunity for reflexivity?  As we become moving billboards that are constantly displaying media or embodied game pieces activating our environment as we move about or waking up to pillows that gently glow brighter and brighter on a dark morning, until we have spent time with these innovations they are still too new to have an integrated ‘self-evident’ meaning in our lives. Hallnäs and Redström’s ideas run counter to embodied practice, valuing the moment of attention.

“To slow things down is one way of introducing a shift in focus from practical functionality to expression of use since instead of disappearing as an efficient tool in your hand, it appears as something that makes you stop for a moment. It is like writing with a pen where you suddenly begin to think about the pen itself, how logic of time-structure appearance and the expressiveness of computational technology as a design material are central issues.”[14]

Reflexivity is informing and being theorized in diverse communities of practice, Antony Giddens, Director of the London School of Economics talks about our current state as reflexive modernity.

“This reflexivity is created by the circumstances of modern society in which the constantly renewing flow of information constituting society simultaneously revises that society's modernity. This transition is the process of reflexive modernization.”[15]

Images

Footnotes