The Ideology of Google’s Art Project-
Image: Daniel Johnston’s mural in Austin, TX. Courtesy of Google Maps Street View.
A lot of attention has been given to the Google Art Project since its launch this February, with the majority of responses in the positive. Most supporters are dazzled by the amount of art the project presents, claiming it “makes visual knowledge more accessible, which benefits us all,”(1) while the focus of critics is “can a digitized masterpiece possibly match being face to face with the original?”(2) To the former it should be pointed out that with the entire history of art in all the world (most of which is already at our disposal online), the amount of art showcased by the GAP is actually extremely small, and the decision of what this privileged selection should consist of is very significant. To the latter it should be pointed out that this question stems from an understanding of art that is only epitomized by the digitization of the museum, and this understanding is what we should really be concerned with.
The first feature of the project is the ability to walk through 17 of the world’s top museums via Google’s Street View technology. The process is tedious, the movements disorienting, and most of the images low quality. On top of this, one of the most laughable drawbacks of the project is the blurring out of certain paintings due to copyright issues. Fortunately for us, every one of these paintings – along with many, many others – can be found elsewhere on the web, for instance through a simple image search. So why put so much effort into reproducing the hindrance of walking, the nuisance of clicking and loading each step, when the images are already instantly available?
My guess is that it is an attempt to recapture the mysticism associated with the museum experience and make it accessible to the web. The irony here is that for all the hype over modern technology (which Google did not invent), the project espouses a very antiquated conception of art. This is done not only through the choice of setting and the choice of works, but also through the limitations of the technology it employs.
The first thing that’s noticeably missing from the virtual museum is time, which consequently excludes any artwork where time or movement is a factor. Of course most kinetic sculptures, process pieces, and performances could be accommodated with videos or webcams, but none of the works on display require this. Instead we have a static archive of paintings forever as they are and as they will be: to be seen once by the camera is enough, to capture one instant is to capture the work in its entirety. This is perfectly contrived to reinforce the notion of art as something eternal, ahistorical, and immune to the forces of time, whether they be physical or social.
Next we have the restrictions imposed through using a camera as a surrogate for a body. Anything involving physical interaction – whether it be the “theatricality” of minimalist sculptures,(3) or happenings predicated upon audience participation – is out of the picture. Art is constrained to the purely visual, and the only possible mode of interaction is observation by a passive spectator.(4) Furthermore, this disembodiment prevents interventions not sanctioned by the artist: you can’t steal, vandalize, or destroy the works (some talented hackers may prove me wrong here), and you can’t steal from the gift shop (a feature I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Google added). The interface of the project thereby enforces a criteria of acceptable behavior, a code of conduct that tells us what we can do in a museum and what we can do with art.
Another distinguishable characteristic of the museums is that they’re all eerily devoid of visitors. Most reviewers have expressed a little excitement at being able to walk through the galleries and see the paintings unobstructed by crowds of other viewers. However, this small pleasure comes at the price of omitting the lifeblood of art altogether: dialogue. Again, this could have easily been allowed with the addition of chat rooms, message boards, virtual curators, etc. But as it stands, we the visitors are left in isolation and in silence.
The second feature of the GAP is the extremely high-resolution images of a select few paintings. You can magnify every millimeter of the canvas, zooming into its materiality to view details imperceptible to the unaided eye, “at a level at which not even the artist himself could have experienced his own work.”(5) Yet this shouldn’t strike us as particularly shocking or distressing. Think of how playing Beethoven on the stereo can be simultaneously louder than the composition intended, louder than would be possible in acoustic performance, and experienced differently from the composer himself, assuming the listener doesn’t share his hearing loss. In fact, the factors that influence the experience of a work are so numerous it is difficult to even speak of “the real thing.”
The problem is not that the works are being viewed in ways that the artist never intended, nor that the digital representations are surpassing their tangible counterparts and obviating the need for firsthand encounters. The real issue here is our absurd, obscene, almost pathological desire to be closer to the objects we seek to understand or adore, which lies behind both the firsthand experience and the digital replication. The appeal of Google’s hyper-zoom comes solely from pandering to this lust, and in doing so brings us within such proximity that it obliterates the cultural significance of the works. If only we could realize: ‘the best way to see a picture is to shut your eyes!’
Given that the GAP is only in its nascent stages, most of these issues may be resolved through expansion and design changes. Nonetheless, the initial choices say everything about the intentions of the project and the assumptions about art that it supports. For all the rhetoric about increased accessibility and the democratization of art, the project is really sending a contradictory message: What counts as art? That which can be found in famed museums, timeless works from the traditional canon of Western high culture (almost entirely composed of white males); not the opposite. Where does art belong? Neatly gathered inside the palace of the white cube, in the ownership of royalty and wealthy intellectuals; not left exposed in the city streets, in the supermarket among commodities, dispersed throughout countless websites, in the hands of the public. What is the function of a museum?(6) To house works of art in isolation from the rest of the world, to provide a ritualistic space where context does not interfere with perception; not to foster and serve communities through collaborative projects, to provide a space of playful creativity for both adults and children. What is art for? Mystical communion, passive contemplation of aesthetics by a silent, disembodied viewer; not for questioning and broadening our cultural expectations, offering a catalyst for change, an opportunity for social and political debate, for touching, changing, helping create and complete.
Ultimately the endeavor is less about the artworks it showcases and more about Google showing off its own capabilities: the multi-billion-pixel camera is the real artwork, the painting just something that happens to be standing in front of its lens. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it wasn’t for the pretensions of the traditional art world that it enforces, and all the possibilities it forbids, discredits, and excludes. The virtual domain should not be used to concentrate and replicated the constraints of our world, but to offer an open space for the free exploration of alternatives, and there are other projects that have made admirable attempts at this.(7) As for the GAP, it is one small step forward for technology, one giant leap back for art.
The first feature of the project is the ability to walk through 17 of the world’s top museums via Google’s Street View technology. The process is tedious, the movements disorienting, and most of the images low quality. On top of this, one of the most laughable drawbacks of the project is the blurring out of certain paintings due to copyright issues. Fortunately for us, every one of these paintings – along with many, many others – can be found elsewhere on the web, for instance through a simple image search. So why put so much effort into reproducing the hindrance of walking, the nuisance of clicking and loading each step, when the images are already instantly available?
My guess is that it is an attempt to recapture the mysticism associated with the museum experience and make it accessible to the web. The irony here is that for all the hype over modern technology (which Google did not invent), the project espouses a very antiquated conception of art. This is done not only through the choice of setting and the choice of works, but also through the limitations of the technology it employs.
The first thing that’s noticeably missing from the virtual museum is time, which consequently excludes any artwork where time or movement is a factor. Of course most kinetic sculptures, process pieces, and performances could be accommodated with videos or webcams, but none of the works on display require this. Instead we have a static archive of paintings forever as they are and as they will be: to be seen once by the camera is enough, to capture one instant is to capture the work in its entirety. This is perfectly contrived to reinforce the notion of art as something eternal, ahistorical, and immune to the forces of time, whether they be physical or social.
Next we have the restrictions imposed through using a camera as a surrogate for a body. Anything involving physical interaction – whether it be the “theatricality” of minimalist sculptures,(3) or happenings predicated upon audience participation – is out of the picture. Art is constrained to the purely visual, and the only possible mode of interaction is observation by a passive spectator.(4) Furthermore, this disembodiment prevents interventions not sanctioned by the artist: you can’t steal, vandalize, or destroy the works (some talented hackers may prove me wrong here), and you can’t steal from the gift shop (a feature I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Google added). The interface of the project thereby enforces a criteria of acceptable behavior, a code of conduct that tells us what we can do in a museum and what we can do with art.
Another distinguishable characteristic of the museums is that they’re all eerily devoid of visitors. Most reviewers have expressed a little excitement at being able to walk through the galleries and see the paintings unobstructed by crowds of other viewers. However, this small pleasure comes at the price of omitting the lifeblood of art altogether: dialogue. Again, this could have easily been allowed with the addition of chat rooms, message boards, virtual curators, etc. But as it stands, we the visitors are left in isolation and in silence.
The second feature of the GAP is the extremely high-resolution images of a select few paintings. You can magnify every millimeter of the canvas, zooming into its materiality to view details imperceptible to the unaided eye, “at a level at which not even the artist himself could have experienced his own work.”(5) Yet this shouldn’t strike us as particularly shocking or distressing. Think of how playing Beethoven on the stereo can be simultaneously louder than the composition intended, louder than would be possible in acoustic performance, and experienced differently from the composer himself, assuming the listener doesn’t share his hearing loss. In fact, the factors that influence the experience of a work are so numerous it is difficult to even speak of “the real thing.”
The problem is not that the works are being viewed in ways that the artist never intended, nor that the digital representations are surpassing their tangible counterparts and obviating the need for firsthand encounters. The real issue here is our absurd, obscene, almost pathological desire to be closer to the objects we seek to understand or adore, which lies behind both the firsthand experience and the digital replication. The appeal of Google’s hyper-zoom comes solely from pandering to this lust, and in doing so brings us within such proximity that it obliterates the cultural significance of the works. If only we could realize: ‘the best way to see a picture is to shut your eyes!’
Given that the GAP is only in its nascent stages, most of these issues may be resolved through expansion and design changes. Nonetheless, the initial choices say everything about the intentions of the project and the assumptions about art that it supports. For all the rhetoric about increased accessibility and the democratization of art, the project is really sending a contradictory message: What counts as art? That which can be found in famed museums, timeless works from the traditional canon of Western high culture (almost entirely composed of white males); not the opposite. Where does art belong? Neatly gathered inside the palace of the white cube, in the ownership of royalty and wealthy intellectuals; not left exposed in the city streets, in the supermarket among commodities, dispersed throughout countless websites, in the hands of the public. What is the function of a museum?(6) To house works of art in isolation from the rest of the world, to provide a ritualistic space where context does not interfere with perception; not to foster and serve communities through collaborative projects, to provide a space of playful creativity for both adults and children. What is art for? Mystical communion, passive contemplation of aesthetics by a silent, disembodied viewer; not for questioning and broadening our cultural expectations, offering a catalyst for change, an opportunity for social and political debate, for touching, changing, helping create and complete.
Ultimately the endeavor is less about the artworks it showcases and more about Google showing off its own capabilities: the multi-billion-pixel camera is the real artwork, the painting just something that happens to be standing in front of its lens. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it wasn’t for the pretensions of the traditional art world that it enforces, and all the possibilities it forbids, discredits, and excludes. The virtual domain should not be used to concentrate and replicated the constraints of our world, but to offer an open space for the free exploration of alternatives, and there are other projects that have made admirable attempts at this.(7) As for the GAP, it is one small step forward for technology, one giant leap back for art.
-Ryan Shullaw
1http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/07/arts/design/07google.html?_r=3&pagewanted=2&ref=todayspaper
2http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2011/feb/06/google-art-project-virtual-masterpieces
3 Michael Fried, “Art and Objecthood.” Fried argues that with minimalism there is a shift from being absorbed by the autonomous, self-contained meaning of an artwork, to the meaning being produced through the presence and interaction of the viewer with the work. One paradox of the GAP, particularly the zoomable images, which I will say more about later, is that in the attempt to dive deeper into the works, they unwittingly becomes props at the whimsy of the viewer. Contrary to Fried, I don’t believe this is anything to be feared.
4 Interestingly, even the experience of observation can be disrupted by the camera-surrogate, for instance, considering how eloquently a mirror refuses translation.
5http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/36950/hype-and-hyperreality-zooming-in-on-google-art-project/?page=1
6 Cf. Brian O’Doherty, “Inside the White Cube.”
7 For example, Second Life contains replicas of famous museums (the most famous one being “Second Louvre”) as well as many original, user-created galleries. Users can take part in creating the virtual world, inhabit it using an avatar, socialize with other residents, etc.
1http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/07/arts/design/07google.html?_r=3&pagewanted=2&ref=todayspaper
2http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2011/feb/06/google-art-project-virtual-masterpieces
3 Michael Fried, “Art and Objecthood.” Fried argues that with minimalism there is a shift from being absorbed by the autonomous, self-contained meaning of an artwork, to the meaning being produced through the presence and interaction of the viewer with the work. One paradox of the GAP, particularly the zoomable images, which I will say more about later, is that in the attempt to dive deeper into the works, they unwittingly becomes props at the whimsy of the viewer. Contrary to Fried, I don’t believe this is anything to be feared.
4 Interestingly, even the experience of observation can be disrupted by the camera-surrogate, for instance, considering how eloquently a mirror refuses translation.
5http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/36950/hype-and-hyperreality-zooming-in-on-google-art-project/?page=1
6 Cf. Brian O’Doherty, “Inside the White Cube.”
7 For example, Second Life contains replicas of famous museums (the most famous one being “Second Louvre”) as well as many original, user-created galleries. Users can take part in creating the virtual world, inhabit it using an avatar, socialize with other residents, etc.
