Net.art is a relatively new chapter in the unfolding of the history of art, and it responds to, and is made possible by, technologies that are also relatively new to us, namely, the Internet and its introduction of the concept of virtual space. This space thickens and becomes defined by the addition of new URLs each day, as more and more people are accessing the Internet and learning how to make this tool work for them. Many artists are now choosing to reflect specifically upon the Internet with works of net.art, which are not simply galleries to display other works that exist outside of the web, but works of art that are made on the net, disseminated on the net, and are essentially about the net. The relative bypassing of some of the hegemonic gatekeeping systems of the contemporary Western art gallery system allows net.artists opportunities to explore issues that address social problems not normally given space within gallery systems, and at the same time, reflecting those social issues that are arising in conjunction with the growing use of Internet technologies. There are new problems that arise with this increasing reliance on computerized networks, namely those of access, education, isolation, and identity. We may now begin to discuss what it means to have personal relationships with the networked computer, on individual, societal, and global levels, and question the languages that help mediate these relationships. It also becomes crucial to consider the offline cultural contexts that users of the Internet take online, and how those elements inform their ideas and actions within virtual space. Specifically, I will address works of net.art that challenge the systems of colonization and oppression that exist in the physical world, as I question the utopian ideas of the posthuman, virtual identity, and the translocal in relation to postcolonial theory.

Language has a strong relationship to power struggles and systems of dominance, traced in history by postcolonial critics, yet very relevant in today’s analysis of Internet culture. New terms have emerged to stand in for Internet-specific ideas and processes, related not only to hardware and software, but to social themes that have arisen due to widespread Internet use. The vernacular of Internet culture is more than technical jargon, but a reflection of the kinds of values online culture is tending to gravitate towards.

The term “translocal” (1) often comes up in critical writing about the net, but is rarely, if ever, seen anywhere else, except perhaps in writing about antiglobalization resistance, which has strong ties to net.culture and politics (2). Translocal describes a sort of sub-set reactionary resistance within the homogenizing realm of globalization, and it refers specifically to a return to localized, specific concerns, partially a reaction to the diffusion of individual concerns brought about by globalization’s theoretically nullifying effects on distinct societies and unique identities. Andreas Broekmann says this about the translocal:

Translocal politics are often reflected in works of recent net.art by artists whose work tends toward postcolonial theory, vs. net.artists whose work tends towards the techno-savvy self-reflexive art about the potential functions of the computer interface.

Heath Bunting’s Botanical Guide to BorderXing (3), a “steganographic guide to borderxing” is an online, printable booklet that subversively appropriates the format of a wildlife guide and hides information and tips about border crossing techniques inside the text, which seems quite tame upon first glance. The booklet is available only on the net, and it is accessible to anyone with a computer, and it is easily printed, read, and used. These formal aspects complements its function, which takes its finished form in its use offline, in the specific locus of the border being crossed. Instead of publishing the contents of his book solely in its printed form, Bunting allows the material to reach all corners of the world that the Internet touches, and allows the problems of border crossing to be addressed by those who would not be reached by the local publication of a booklet form. Transcending the homogenous forms of digital globalization by focussing on the special problems people face when crossing borders, Bunting uses the Internet as a tool for dissemination for specific local problem-solving, and turns the net into a tool of resistance.

A problem that has begun to surface in critical writing about the net is the contrast between the early utopian ideas about the ultra-democratic forum of the net and today’s reality about the problem of the unbalanced access to computers on a global scale. As Coco Fusco points out in her much-debated work, A Modest Proposal for Josephine Bosma, “The most positive thing to say about net.culture probably is its openness to artists who have access to computers, and are largely white, male, and western” (4). Technology is not working the same way for everyone, and to the contrary of early theories that the Internet was going to allow all voices an equal opportunity to be heard, we are discovering that, once again history repeats itself, and someone has to pay for the luxury of technology. Fusco sheds light on the harsh labour conditions of the people who work in factories to make computer parts, but will never be able to actually use one because of their poor wages, combined with a dangerous work environment. Many people today will never actually get to use a computer in their lifetime, contrary to the utopian theories about global access and democracy entertained in the early days of net.theory. Foucault reminds us that ‘knowledge is power’, and it is the voices of the few who are privileged to use these tools that are mapping the structures that will make up the World Wide Web of the future. This power of self-representation on the Internet is reserved not only for the few who can afford computers, but also for those who can afford the time and education to make this tool work for them. The time to invest in learning how to utilize net.resources is also a privilege for the few, as is the access to the specialized education that comes in the forms of institutional education, mentorship, or expensive books that become outdated as the next piece of software arrives. access to the decentred, seemingly boundless virtual space of the net has a hidden price tag attached to it: the offline privilege of wealth.

One artwork that exposes an effect of the dominance of white bodies shaping Internet space is Lucasz Lysakowski’s Family Portrait (5). Lysakowski suggests that the Google search engine’s hierarchical search systems are creating a bias of representation of primarily white, middle class family portraits being listed when a search for ‘family portraits’ is launched. Since it is primarily white, middle-class people who have access to these systems, there is an abundance of images picturing these bodies on the net, and this reinforces longstanding offline issues of white representational dominance. Lysakowski takes typical middle-class family portraits and erases the bodies from them, leaving only clear white space to represent those who have been ‘left out’, and he invites visitors to his site to upload their own similarly altered versions of family portraits. Technically, this is not such a difficult assignment for the willing participant artist, and the results, when shown together, are quite eerie. Access is granted to those with computers who can perform the task, yet the intent is to assist in representing those who cannot participate, subverting the elite forum of technology-based art to reflect the problems that surround it.

Technologies to the People (6) is another excellent project that challenges the notion of the democratic forum of Internet access. The title of the project suggest a philanthropic organization that might be inclined towards socialist redistribution of technology. However, the site drips with sarcasm and wit, full of odd plays on expectations visitors might have of the sort of site that their name implies. For example, their Translation Service (7) consists of a black screen, scattered with small icons of various national flags. When one clicks upon a flag, a pop-up window appears, saying the same thing each time: LANGUAGE BARRIER...only English translation FREE!!! Sorry you need to pay in advance for no-English languages (...accordance with internet rule) [OK]”. This reminds us that the Internet is very much dominated by the English language, and that those who do not use this language can be penalized and restricted. Guillermo Gomez-Pena writes in his text The Virtual Barrio @ The Other Frontier “How else could a Mexican communicate with an African or a Hindu? How else would you, whoever you are, be reading this text right now?” (8) English is the language of globalization, and translocal linguistic politics rarely emerge as victors in the realm of the Internet.

Another interesting area to explore on the Technologies to the people website is their “new” video section (9) , where it seems on first glance that these is an enormous, free library of classic postcolonial and postmodern video art, including full-length works by Mona Hatoum, Bill Viola, Marina & Ulay Abramovic, and General Idea. It looks too good to be true, and it is. When the titles are clicked upon to access, at first, it looks like your computer is downloading, but then a pop-up window comes up, and says that your computer cannot handle this technology. The troubleshooting page suggests the acquisition of many different hardware, software, browsers, and line speeds, yet if a closer look is taken at the language and punctuation, it becomes obvious that this inability to access these very desirable archives of rare video art is exactly the point of the whole journey though the page. Technologies to the People created a desire for a product that could not be accessed though the technology that is currently available, even to the most resourceful computer user. Since the archives are steered towards rather academic tastes, it becomes clear that this project is aimed at educated people who would most likely not be used to being denied access to information, and certainly would not be expecting the joke to be on them on a site called Technologies to the People!

Education comes in many forms in Internet space, not just though the direct posting and accessing of texts, but though insightful reflections upon global histories that inform the bodies behind the virtual identities (a term I will address shortly) connected with the production of net.art. Damali Ayo has created a site called Rent-A-Negro.com (10) in order to address the unjust treatment of African peoples throughout history and the subsequent forms of racial fetishization that are popular today, yet subversively appear to be cross-cultural exchanges. Ayo exposes how white people often wish to have visible social connections to people of colour in public situations, but still see themselves as naturally dominant, by suggesting that white people can rent the social services of an African person by the hour for social functions. She even lists prices, and if one was to actually follow up on the opportunity, it seems as if she would be the one to perform the service. The clean, colourful, yet simple design of the site suggests a legitimate business, but the offensive nature of the services she offers blatantly describes the feelings she has as an African person about the fetishization she has experienced as a person of colour. She charges and extra $25 to touch her hair, and an extra $150 to call her ‘sista’ or ‘girlfriend’, and an extra $500 to challenge a racist family member or friend. By utilizing the forum of the Internet to reach a worldwide audience, Ayo educates all who access her site in the changing forms of racism employed by white people accross the world.

The reality of the bodies behind net.art production is sometimes forgotten when net.artists initiate unique works that invite others to collaborate in the unfolding of the content of the project, thus blurring the line about authorship while bypassing the situated knowledges that contexturalized the artist’s initial motivations to begin the project. These motivations to initiate an idea as an artwork on the Internet are based off of the artist’s unique perspectives on the topic at hand, and these perspectives are based off of experiences they themselves have had. Whether online or off, it takes context to frame the artmaking process, and a body placed within a location to consider ideas and give them form through the machine interface (in the case of net.art). Even generative art requires a programmer. The cultural baggage that frames the daily experiences of the net.artist necessarily informs their inquiries, values, and methods when creating art, although many net.artists seek to negate these influences by focussing on posthuman theory and the imagined self as virtual identities.

Posthumanism is a term that finds its greatest applications within the discourse of the potentials of the human/machine interface. At Posthuman.com, Sabine describes posthumanism as “a sentient being that started out as a human or as a mind with a human way of thinking - and then by use of technology changes into someone who is no longer human” (11). Internet technology allows humans to interface with a machine in such a way that they become somewhat disembodied within their relationship to the virtual, demonstrated in my own experience of the way in which I can spend hours wrapped up in my Internet activities, denying the fact that I am hungry, that my hand hurts, and that my eyes are tired of looking at the screen. My thoughts lie elsewhere, between the pulses of my monitor, my imagination, and the html code released through a faraway server. Though, however ‘posthuman’ my mind appears to be, my bladder eventually catches up to me, and I must return my attention to the reality that, yes, I do have a body, and it demands my attention. My skin is still white when I look down at my hands on the keyboard, and I am still a woman, no matter what other bodies I flirt with inhabiting on the web. This notion of the posthuman is furthered in its extreme utopianism by a group of ‘transhumanists’ called the Extropians (12) , whose posthumanist theory goes as far as to posit that one day human consciousness could be downloaded into a computer, and the body could be absolved, thus freeing humans not only from the classic philosophical problem of the mind/body split, but perhaps of the human condition itself. This belief is in strong opposition to contemporary cultural producers such as Guillermo Gomez-Pena, Cheryl L'Hirondelle-Waynohtew (13), and Teo Spiller (14) , who each create online artworks that reflect the physical reality of the human beings that interface with the internet and reflect their artwork upon that condition. Since the posthuman ideal is nowhere close to being realized, and seems as if its contradictions might be too great to ever realize, this term embodies the fantasy and naivety associated with early speculation about Internet possibilities, which includes the idea of the net being a model for true democracy. Postcolonial theorists would remind us that the body is a site of struggle, and is our vessel for experiencing the world, even though the coloured fingers that touch the keyboards, and the jobs we all go back to to support our desires for the latest technology.

The human/computer interface is necessarily, at this time, a site of isolation, where one person accesses their own personal experience with cyberspace at a time. Perhaps in the future, immersive environments will appear for multiple, simultaneous experiences with virtual space, however at this point in time, the experience of most people using the Internet is a very personal experience. This isolation, combined with the absence of physical bodies on the net, provides an opportunity for people to reflect upon their identities in ways never before experienced with previous communication technologies. Many people choose to manifest themselves on the Internet through imaginary selves, also called virtual identities. Net.artist and theorist, Teo Spiller, describes the formation of the virtual identity like this:

This ‘wished’ appearance that Spiller refers to is what is manifested as the ’virtual identity’. However, notice that this ‘third platform’ is a reflection on the previous two, and is inseparable from the context that gives it the desire to be manifested at all. Imagination, based on experiences, informs the creation of the virtual identity, and it is deeply rooted to the trajectories of the physical experience a person has in the world. Many people enter chat rooms, online games, or email accounts posing as characters with new names, preferences, origins, and even bodies. For example, it is commonly known that many men will enter chat rooms, posing as young, attractive women, in order to attempt to experience the life of a young woman, often to seek sexual gratification. Less deceptive, yet equally strategic is the way in which some Internet users will develop personae based off of fictional characters, sometimes a bricolage of media images, sometimes based solely off of a combination of traits that they would like to be seen as possessing. These characters usually have their own names, and this naming system bypasses the identifying qualities of most people’s given names, allowing them to adopt new genders, ages, nationalities, etc. However, there are cultural signifiers, such as language, which could easily reveal the gap between the projected image of self and the critically located body behind it. The isolated selves created online have freedom to express themselves without much real social consequence, on or offline, as these identities are disposable, disembodied, and interchangeable.

A net.art project that reflects this sense of worthlessness and casualty of the virtual identity is Olia Olialina and Heath Bunting’s Identity Swap Database (15) . In this project, the artists invite visitors to upload pictures of themselves, their email address, and physical information about their bodies to add to a database of identities that, in theory, are there to be swapped with others who have uploaded information about themselves. The site’s instructions switch between many languages each second, and English is not privy to any special focus. There is a search function that allows users to find characters that fit their desired description, and the search will show all of the images and characteristics that have been previously assigned to it. The email addresses are also listed, although there are not instructions about what to do with the information or exactly how to go about this identity swap. One could enter their given body’s features and images, completely imagined material, or a combination. I chose a combination (search for me by the ‘mole on my tummy’ in the ‘physical marks’ section). The absurd mixes with the profound here, as the notion of swapping your identity seems quite ridiculous and dangerous in the physical world, yet interesting, fun, and harmless online. Yet the variety of responses to the project reveal that not all identities online are the stuff of dreams, but real people unafraid to connect their real bodies within virtual space. Social consequence is a choice here, invited by the uploading of a valid email address and photo of one’s physical body.

The isolating experience of using the human/computer interface also becomes a tool for establishing new types of communities, with varying degrees of social consequence. Online identity is articulated the choices the user makes about what types of information they would like to be surrounded with, balanced with the kinds of information they contribute to online culture. Katerina Diamandaki says that the desire for community on the net is paradoxical, as the physical body and location is superficially ‘left behind’ in order to pursue specific coordinates within information-based communities that also have political implications for the formation of offline politics (16). Diamandaki also suggests that “the widespread insecurity of late modernity also accounts for the articulation of identity politics in terms of ‘community’ - national, ethnic, gender, minority, religious, cultural, and others.” These politics and insecurities do not leave the embodied and mental self as cyberspace is entered. On the contrary, the insecurity of the entropic “rapid, constant, and unpredictable change” is mirrored, and perhaps even passing at a faster rate in the cyber-world. Locating one’s self in the virtual must be anchored to the physical self in order to make meaning out of the barrage of information offered at each click. The perceptions of location and difference create desires to move towards meaningful activities, even in cyberspace, where endless nomadism is a possibility. Nomadism itself can be a site of struggle for identity, yet by the very choice to recognize the quality of nomadism as part of an identity connects it to the labyrinthian networks that other nomads also trace, thus identifying the nomad within the nomadic communities of cyberspace. However, the desire for identification with distinct online communities draws many people away from the isolationism and wandering nomadism the Internet makes possible. The opportunity to invent one’s self again is far too tempting for most, as is the opportunity to invent new sites of resistance for the problems of the physical world, and those relating to postcolonial theory are of particular interest to me.

Diamandaki explains that there are several types of communities on the Internet, the last three of this list she considers to be “diasporic communities”: Nations with a State, Regional Ethnicities within a Nation, Marginalized or Threatened Identities of Indigenous or Tribal Populations, Nations or National Groups without a State, Expatriate/Immigrant Communities of Existing Nation-States, and Communities of Dissidents who have fled Totalitarian Regimes (17) Many of these groups have formed online centres to collect and disseminate information about their peoples, and there are a few artists who are beginning to make works of net.art reflecting these communities and their identities with them. Cheryl L'Hirondelle-Waynohtew’s recent project Make Your Own Treaty Card (18) is an interesting take on First Nations identities and the identification systems that have been imposed upon them since colonization. Many people (both First Nations and non-First Nations) have expressed disgruntlement at the obviously sexist and racist strategies the Canadian Government has made clear within the systematized “Treaty cards” given to certain First Nations people to ‘prove’ their ‘authenticity’ as First Nations People. White women who married Status Indians (their word, not mine...) became Status, and all of their offspring would receive these ‘benefits’ as well. First Nations women who married white men would have their Status revoked, and none of their offspring would be entitled to Status cards. This has just recently been changed in light of rising protest by First Nations, Métis, and other Canadian people. However, the legacy is further dismantled and reflected upon by L'Hirondelle-Waynohtew’s online project inviting anyone to make themselves a treaty card using her online resources. This will have different implications for each person approaching this work of art, but will have a certain special significance for those who felt entitled to, but were deprived of, the old versions of Treaty Cards. For an online person from another country to run across this work, a different reading would occur, but most importantly, they would learn about some of the complex issues facing Canada in light of postcolonial relations between First Nations people and other Canadians (19). The Internet makes these issues visible worldwide, in an easily digested format that also speaks volumes to the oppression of First Nation’s people’s right to self-representation promised in the Treaties.

I have discovered that there are as many ideas about identity construction and deconstruction on the web as there are users. Is this not the same in our offline, physical lives? Perhaps this difference in meaning is because we make meanings in our lives. With the opportunity to start an imagined identity online, it makes sense that there would be a huge variety of strategies people will create in order to live out their desires of difference between the corporeal self and the possibility of becoming anew. The desires to take up space and vocalize our concerns will remain strong into the digital era, regardless of theories of faraway ‘posthumanist’ fancy. We all come from different trajectories of understanding the world, and the extension of our mental selves into Internet domain reflects a long path we are all on to knowing ourselves, through our desires, our actions, our failures and successes, and our attempts to intervene on the inevitable return to the flesh we are all contained in.

Each artist's attempt to create meaning through their net.art, writings, or net.gallery curations reflect their individual perspectives on issues that are personally engaging to them, and are we all not products of our physical environment as well as our inherited bodies? These perspectives are bound to clash as authors attempt to stake out territory in the space of ideas, exploring questions relating not just to the problems of cyberspace, but also of their own journeys through the negotiation of their relationship to net.cultures. “Knowledge is power” (Foucault), and the digital divide between those who have, and those who do not will continue to be a source of not only political struggle but also of artistic inspiration as long as these power gaps exist. Net.art is relatively new, and there is much to be explored, but by whom, and what are their motivations? Who is it that will set the standards for this field? Can any one identity be the colonizer of a net.art canon? Not if access to computers, server space, and education become increasingly available, especially to those of radical or marginalized identities in physical space. Perhaps the utopian democracy of early net.theory could be expressed in a sharing of resources and education by those whose privilege allows them the opportunity to both vocalize their own observations, and lend their skills, time, and resources to those who have less than they, allowing offline marginalized voices space to represent themselves and carve out their own plot of cyberspace to call their own and invite others to learn from. All margins are equally centred in cyberspace...

Many artists choose to take their concerns about issues in the physical world into the Internet domain so that they can reach international audiences with their messages, while referencing the media they are working in. So, it follows that we will continue to see artists work with issues of identity on the Internet, as it is a problem that surpasses the confines of the Internet and is a very pressing issue for many, especially as postcolonial politics are articulated with technology by the empowered post-colonized. It is also perhaps, an ideal vessel for these sorts of exploration, due to its accessibility to international audiences, its quickly-evolving technical support structures, and its physically ungated terrain. Identity will continue to be a political site (haha) on the web, due to the conflicting desires of real people pressing their politicized virtual bodies in the new politics of virtual space.

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