Anti-Laokoon: Mixed and Merged Modes of Imagetext on the Web

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George L. Dillon
(Writer's Craft: Culture's Technology, Ed.: Carmen Caldas-Coulthard and Michael Toolan, Rodopi, 2005:1-21.)

PDF version, with color

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It was painting on canvas that was, I think, a faithful rendering of a photo with a guy leaning against a pole smack in the middle, with the word "wrong" at the bottom. This is meta-discourse; I had never seen photographic meta-discourse before. Not only did he use a dumb photo, he made a point of it by sticking a word on it, because of course words were forbidden in photography (Rosler 1998:198:38).

In an interview with Benjamin Buchloh, the photographer and multimedia artist Martha Rosler describes the powerfully liberating effect of seeing some of John Baldessari's photographic work in 1968. The of course reflects the power that the High Modernist ban on mixing words and images most famously articulated in Clement Greenberg's "Towards a Newer Laokoőn" (Mitchell 1994: 35, 215ff.)had over artists in the mid twentieth century. Much has been written subsequently about the breakdown of this Modernist stricture of High (or museum-gallery) Art by the Conceptualists and many other artists as well. The restoration of "imagetext" to its rightful throne has been proclaimed by W.J.T. Mitchell and recently, in Writing on the Wall: Word and Image in Modern Art, Simon Morley has written a history of twentieth-century art as overthrowing the segregation of word and image, confusing conventional relations between them, and culminating in the practices of the new digital media which bring into sight "the kind of universal language of which the avant-garde once dreamed, a language based on the fusion of words and images into a sign system that one enthusiast has called 'iconographics'" (2003: 203). (The enthusiast is Nicolas Negroponte.) And Morley sees yet farther that "eventually digitalization may well do away with verbal language altogether" (204)--which is no great loss, one supposes, for an art guy.

Despite his almost ecstatic embrace of the new digital technology-of the World Wide Web, interactivity, hypertext, Photoshop, and the whole shebang-Morley says little about actual pieces of work on line or about how particular "fusions" are accomplished. This is most surprising to one coming from the language and literature side, where fusions of disparate things are frequently described and closely analyzed. I agree with Morley that the new media facilitates the handling of text, image, and sound in ways that continue and extend the overthrow of Greenbergian separation and the mixing of word and image in novel ways. In this article, I will try to spell out some of those ways, and to begin thinking about a stylistics of digital imagetexts. In particular, I will describe three tactics that move toward equivalence and fusion of text and image (and sound): what I will call textmontage, the chaining of words and images as hypertext anchors, and the rendering of text as visual event through animation (dynamic textmontage).

A terminological note: I am using the term montage in the sense of photomontage or compositing, rather than in the cinematic sense of the juxtaposition of one sequence to the other. The line seems clear enough, but becomes blurry when the text and frame are no longer static, but animated, as is the case with dynamic textmontage. Also, by text I mean written words; hence the montaging of text is a visual effect. This too becomes more complicated when the visual display is accompanied by audio sequences of speech, which are verbal and text-like in engaging us in processing language rather than images, but are not visually represented and merged. To make analysis even more complicated, the audio with some of the pieces we will look at is itself an audio montage of voices, sounds, and tunes.

1. textmontage:

Illustration 1
Literature Display-British Library

Among the many ways that artist-writers have begun to, or resumed mixing image and text is a particularly merged style I am calling textmontage. Only the most rabid and extreme Modernist would insist that text and image never occur together, that all pieces be entitled Untitled, or "Untitled, no. what-have-you" on walls with no legends or commentary, and with no exhibit catalog or notes. There are certain standard fixed places for words and they are basically outside the frame. Things begin to be more seriously mixed when words can get inside the frame and become part of the visual design. Then we begin to see the words as shapes in relation to other shapes and we flip back and forth between reading and seeing, often frequently and quickly. The most common device is to simply write the words over an image, where the words constitute a connected message and can be read as a text. Victor Burgin did a whole series of these in the early 1980s with white text placed in generally vacant areas of BW photographs. That too is not quite what I mean by textmontage, not even if the text were to seriously overwrite parts of the image (as is quite often done in far-out graphic design). You start to have textmontage when the words are integrated into the image usually with fading or transparency and soft edges. At the extreme end, text becomes visual form and design, as in the (nonelectronic) light scultures in the new British Library, one of which is depicted in Illustration 1.

Talk about merging and integration of text and image is very nice, but it is also easy to see the relation as one of competition (as Foucault maintained in his little book on Magritte)--at least for real estate on the canvas, page, or screen, if not semiotic hegemony. In the following piece ("The Shadow") by Stef Zelynskyj the text is viewed as through a spyglass (note changes of scale) in fragments and further fragmented by a tear that allows the landscape to show through. For me, this display rouses a ferocious urge to recover and complete the text, especially because it is almost possible to do that. The image thus sets off an alternating between viewing image and reading for text. It is not possible to do both at once: they are incompatible uses of the eyes, visual cortex, and so forth. I went to a collection of Jonson's poetry and place the text unmutilated form beneath the image:

Illustration 2
Stef Zelynskyj: The Shadow

FOllow a shaddow, it still flies you;
  Seeme to flye it, it will pursue:
So court a mistris, shee denyes you;
  Let her alone, shee will court you.
Say, are not women truely, then,
Stil'd but the shaddowes of us men?

At morne, and even, shades are longest;
  At noone, they are or short, or none:
So men at weakest, they are strongest,
  But grant us perfect, they're not knowne.
Say, are not women truely, then
Stil'd but the shaddowes of us men?

Fully restored and presented front and center, this little misogynistic conceit, so typical of its period, seems unspeakable and not at all funny today. The visual erosion and tattering may represent not so much the effect of time as the loss of the cultural assumptions that sustained it and made it clever.

Illustration 3
Ian Campbell: "Male Cliché"

Illustration 3 ("Male Cliché"), one of several digital montages by Ian Campbell, also fragments texts. In this case the texts are postings to USENET groups that were found by putting the key words "male cliche" in a search engine. The snippets, rendered in several fonts but especially Courier-looking ones evoking text consoles, manage only phrases and simple clauses layered over the talismanic emblems of maleness (the ballpeen hammers) and torn cotton briefs. Indeed, it is hard to imagine how much sustained text could fit on a screen with strong images. But what the image gives us are just fragments of gender stereotypes. Its timeliness may have passed; it is no longer exhibited on Campbell's website.

Illustration 4
Eduardo Navas: "The Quixote"

One site that manages to have a lot of text and pieces of text with images both ways is Eduardo Navas' "The Quixote." This edition of Borges' "Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" wants to display two languages (those of translation and original) and to use sentences as panels superposed over a book image. The site divides the story into a series of such pages. On all of them, the flow of text is interrupted at the sentence and the visual integrity of the text is reduced by making the "pages" transparent (and the type very large). However, Navas also presents the connected text (albeit alternating Spanish and English translation) in a pop-up window that can be positioned and scrolled and is in a sense outside the design frame (though depicted here in the lower lefthand corner of the main window).

Illustration 5
Geoff Broadway: Mirage

Another solution to including extended stretches of text in a visual composition can be seen in Geoff Broadway's "The Glass." This is a series of six emblems ("totem poles," one of my students called them). These emblems exist in html and Flash forms, the latter providing support for a number of sound clips associated with regions of each of the six emblems. These clips are activated by mousing over the images, and there are some overlaps between regions so that occasionally two clips can be heard at once. With Illustration 4 ("Mirage"), which deals with Western constructions of The Arab, are four such clips: associated with the riding horseman is the "Lawrence of Arabia" theme song; another clip is of an Arab commenting (in English) on certain stereotypes; yet another is a clip from a newsreel reporting Israeli independence; and a fourth one is a segment of an ABC News broadcast covering the return of the American troops from Operation Desert Storm. One might hesitate to call this textmontage, since there is no text competing and blending with the images in the visual channel, but the sound and speech are still spatialized and a part of the composition by virtue of the hotspots that activate it. (The level of the sound also appears to have a focal center.)

As parts of these multimedia emblems, the words and images seem to resonate with allusiveness and to interanimate each other, as I. A. Richards used to say of words in poems. The visual contexts do draw out and heighten some connotations of the words, and the words do select certain aspects of the images over others. Ballpeen hammers, for example, take on quite a different aspect in a metal-working shop. But these interlinked webs of association are not organized into statements and claims on the one hand, or representations of the world (or visual pattern an design) on the other. It can, however, convey a certain take on the world, a certain positioning with respect to things that may sometimes deserve to be called political or social critique, though it is often hard to write out what that positioning is. ¹

It may be that textmontage will prove just a brief fad brought on by the new technology for compositing layers and altering their opacity, and that it will quickly come to seem jumbled both in conception and the viewing, rather than the trigger for bits of stimulating semiotic dexterity. Or, perhaps equally likely, it may taken to convey a certain contemporary look and start turning up on posters, adverts, textbooks, and brochures, where it may only occasionally suggest the richness of connection that we associate with a good poem. But there does nonetheless seem to be much more to be explored in this vein.

2. image-text chains and webs:

Sooner or later, however, one come to the limits of what can be contained on a single page and it is necessary to employ hypertext links to set pages in a sequence (or sequences). The image anchors of the links, which are often hot areas in the image rather than the entire image, may take you to another image, or a piece of text, and ">similarly with the text anchors. The effect is to make words and parts of images interchangable as links. I offer as a first example Doll Yoko and Andi Freeman's "Princess Zombie," a smallish site that resists the mediatizing of Diana Spenser's unfortunate end. The site is made up of 14 full-screen images with hot spots (and sometimes a few words) and 10 pages of text (with underlined link anchors). The hot spots must be sought out with the mouse and we learn to find them on this site by touching facial features (among other things) such as eyes, lips, cheeks, and earrings. Indeed, eyes are everywhere on this site, sometimes composited over other things. They are thematic to be sure, but it is a little disconcerting to poke the cursor, which turns to a hand with extended finger, into the eyes of the observers and mourners. Many of the images are in fact photomontages with several layers of partially transparent images-associated impressions, of the funeral, as it were, since reduced opacity has long been linked to dematerialization and hence to memory, dream , and apparition. Illustration 6 is entirely typical:

Illustration 7
Screen from Doll Yoko's "Princess Zombie"

Within these half seen, glimpsed, remembered scenes and impressions are one or two hotspots that trigger jumps: here the eye is one and the scrawled "HELPLESS IN APAPTHY" is the other, with the latter counting as either a text hotspot or a visual one. In general, the visual parts of Doll Yoko's images that are hot are visually salient parts of the head, face, or hands. Also, she uses quite a number of sustained images which are often hot and lace the visual pages together almost as the hypertext cross references do. Neither images nor text are primary in Princess Zombie. All are just signs linking to signs.

To browse the next site, the viewer has to be somewhat more inventive in finding and synthesizing cues. '"Moles" is multi-media self-examination,' Liz Miller says, calling it an autobiographical narrative, which is promising a lot for a site that opens with a black screen and seven thumbnail images which align themselves on the left to make up a table of contents. Each of these if touched fills the main window with a large version of itself partitioned into three sections. The central, slender section of each is the clickable part and activates reloading with a bit of narrative text appearing, usually over image and sometimes as a mouse-over with one of the moles.

One of the seven strands has some "refresh" auto-loading, but the general mode rewards engagements with the mouse in various ways: the effect is sometimes of sliding panels that the viewer must pull back to read the text behind them, sometimes of painting the screen with the mouse to trigger mouse-overs, and often of touching the moles with the cursor to trigger text or jump to the next screen. The bits of story are there, linked to the moles, waiting to be released.

The seven narrative segments are not in simple chronological order, but do advance a theme of growing up, leaving home, discovering attraction to women, wanting to and finally telling her parents in a letter of her lesbian identification. Illustration 8 illustrates how this all works as technique and content:

Illustration 8
Liz Miller-screen capture from "Moles"

The gray text-over in monospace type can be readily made out as the text of the letter she has been struggling to write. The cursor is touching a mole on her thigh and triggering the appearance of the text on the calf of the leg, which describes her having written the letter. This is text that is written upon and part of the body: experiences are recorded in the moles, the maculae; touching them causes narratives of the experiences to appear on the screen and on the body. The body may not be text, but the meanings of the body are.

A third example of the technique of textmontage is the large, prize-winning site "These Waves of Girls" by Caitlin Fisher. of York University. ²"These Waves of Girls" evokes the experiences inside and outside of school of the narrator Tracey, a "bad cat" (as one teacher calls her), who experiments with other girls long before she begins to call herself lesbian.

It is highly hypertextual and densely cross-linked, and linked as well by repeated images, but since it does not tell one story but many, the hypertext does not disrupt the story telling, though it does disrupt any master narrative of causation or development, there being on Fisher's view nothing anomalous or aberrant to explain. Indeed, cruelty and baffled desire are as much themes as kissings and touchings, but my female students inform me that this all is more or less in the realm of their experience. Most of the action described is as reassuringly ordinary as it gets: being in school with teachers and recess, bicycle riding, going to camp, hanging out with your friends, playing party games. Somehow, filtered through the interface, it is not boring or mundane but exciting and universal.

Illustration 9
Caitlin Fisher: "Vanessa" from "These Waves of Girls"

This transformation is largely the work of Fisher's visual language for memory. The images, which are a complete mix of digitally modified photographs, drawings, and manipulable flash images (such as ones with magnifying glasses, or which distort/ripple as you touch them with the cursor), number well over two hundred, and they are recycled at different sizes as well. Making the images of remembered childhood blurry, as Fisher does, follows a long standing tradition (found, for example, in Squier's piece), but in that tradition they are usually also gray (or sepia toned), whereas Fisher punches up the saturation of the colors and rotates their palates in denaturalizing ways. She also pushes some to the point of pixelation and the ghosts of excessive jpg compression. She inverts palates and applies "water-color" and "oil-painting" filters. She also crops many images so tightly that the effect is sometimes more of glimpsing than seeing. We have not the distance even to see things whole, much less to see them in perspective. Moreover, the general setup of the screen is a set of frames with a central viewing window and wide margin frames with a "menu" style list of main topic links in the left margin frame which open in the central window. These frames also have a common or similar background images, thus providing a literal frame or context for the central window. This framing context is so strong that one view a page and think it similar in theme and treatment to one one has already seen when in fact it is identical to the one one has already seen. And of course the recurrent images, in different scales and locations, also function as " "links" to the other pages where they occur. The bicycle drawing in Illustration 7 is one such thread, and it is a hypertext link in an image-text chain as well. The material in "These Waves of Girls" is presented as if remembered, or, at least, remembered by a graphic artist.

There are certainly differences of technique among the three works we have looked at, but strong common traits as well. All three net artists use images to represent memories and perceptions rather than to establish or document a public, historical world. As remembered rather than freshly seen, they come intertwined with language, also representing the remembered thoughts and events, and the triggers and paths of association crisscross the boundaries of text and image.

A hypertext link minimally suggests connection : a  kind of equivalence--or continuation, development (relay), association or perspective. But to grasp the connection, we have to bridge c30">the source and target. This is of course true in writing as well, even when there is an explicit connective word or words used, but the connective word or link information points us in the intended direction and limits the search for possible connections.  And whether the link is from word to image or vice-versa, we still have to bridge them together and doing this bridging tends to make text-parts and image-parts exchangeable. The hot spots of hypertext anchors in text and in images are all regions on a surface, and regions which do not have any inherent bounds other than those set by the writer.  Image-text links reestablish the readability of the visual world, at least in places, and the seeability of words--to which we can add the hearability of words and images--we can make literally speaking pictures. These correspondences do not extend as a code outside of the world of the particular work, but we can use various heuristics in finding them, both in the concrete sense of finding the hot spots in images and in the more abstract sense of finding a basis for a link. One such is the heuristic of touching, which I think is always simmering beneath the index-finger icon that signifies "you are in a linked region." When we touch someone's eyes, we expect to see; when we touch their ears, to hear, and their mouth, to speak. It is a kind of probing, releasing touch, as when we read the body through massage, probe for pain, or touch gingerly, not knowing what may pop out. ³I don't mean that the semiotic modes themselves are fused--they are still distinct and multiple, but effect of the free and rapid movement from text to image to text to sound etc. is to create the effect of a super-semiotic system where there is no competition and no gulf of incomprehensibility between reading, seeing, and hearing, between diagrammatic abstraction and photographic realism, maps and memoirs, news broadcasts and chronologies, theme songs and native dances. No one of these is authorial or authoritative, all must answer the question: what is that doing here?

3. dynamic textmontage

Thus far, we have been thinking of text as an element in a static visual composition; one of the most attractive affordances of Macromedia Flash, however, has proved to be its easy animation of lines and blocks of text; a second attraction has been the easy synching of sound with scripted animation, and the ability to play concurrent tracks on any platform and browser. Flash has become the on-line multimedia medium par excellence: in the first four issues of Ctheory Multimedia c30">, for example, the great majority employ Macromedia Flash or Shockwave. The great popularity of this software can be seen also in the "Congruence" branch of The Cauldron and Net and in the winners and honorable mentions of recent net.art competitions.

Illustration 10
Miranda and Newmark: Screen capture of Machine Organs

Issue 2 of Ctheory Multimedia contains Maria Miranda and Norie Neumark's "Machine Organs" where words and phrases write over the images of computer-organs accompanied by distinctly "bioform" sounds and a montage of voices, whispers, and noises-lest, as it were, that we in our rush to virtual life in virtual space forget "the meat." Illustration 8 is a screen capture of one moment in the animation of the "Heart Pump Machine" --this pseudo-organ combines the heart and liver to figure the computer as constantly working and as the seat of emotions. There are three other "organs": digestion (the computer as "hungry for information)" breath, and xray vision. The work is thus a visual-textual-aural metaphor identifying the computer's vital processes in terms of "our own." One might say that technically we have gone beyond "textmontage" in this case since we have added another medium: sound clips of voices saying the words that over-write the image are not "text," which is verbal-visual, anymore, but verbal-auditory. and this verbal-auditory is accompanied by gurgles, burps, sighs, gasps, pops, and sucking. These sounds are not synced to the words or images-that is to say they are an independent channel, as it were, but I am not sure that sounds can share the stage on an equal footing with words and images because there is a very long tradition of treating sounds as background and supportive rather than bearing a primary theme (opera and other vocal music excepted). The effect of the sounds here, however, is very much to merge, associate, and evoke proximity to animate things; this effect is strongly enhanced by the sounds and voices themselves over-laying each other in a sound montage.

My second example of this new melange of media is Jess Loseby's "Textual Tango" (snapshot in Illustration 11), which repaints the screen over and over with two texts of personal ads and lines from others. One speaker is represented in red, one in green, but as the flow of text continues, other texts enter, disintegrate, and drift or fade away, only to be replaced with others asserting the desire to "find someone." This cascade mounts to two climaxes of speed and abundance synced to a voice (Sting?) singing "Roxanne," a song originally written by Sting and performed by him and The Police, but featured recently in the film Moulin Rouge with Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman. The singer is a man who loves a prostitute and is promising her she need not go out into the street anymore-a stern, if not perhaps entirely excessive comment on "the discourse of personal ads."

Illustration 11
Janet Loseby: Textual Tango

In Illustration 11, we see a moment approaching the climax of the piece, where letters and words and phrases from other disintegrated personal adds float about like autumn leaves in the wind. One of the two basic adverts is visible, but over it is being written the words of deep demand, one word at a time. Here the words and letters both float and appear with dominating insistence (large and red) in center screen; in other moments, the lines fly in from off-frame, giving screens like Illustration 12. Here again it might be argued that we do not have text being montaged into a visual space, for they are the only visual elements in a black space and they do not hold a stable position. We approach visual poetry ("vizpo," Poems That Move), though the site is a critique of the discourse of personal adverts, the words are all citational (or parodic), and the rhythms of the piece are of their appearance, movement, and disappearance.

Illustration 12

Jess Loseby: Textual Tango

Although "Textual Tango" uses a very restricted pallette and no image, it does engross the eye with rhythmic movement. Even more austere is the style of Young-hae Chang Heavy Industries (Marc Voge and Young-hae Chang) which scrolls very large text (most often white against black) very rapidly (like a reading tachistoscope) and closely synced to a piece of classic jazz., not only by beat but by emotional contours as well. YHCHI "do voices" and evoke scenarios with an elan that matches Joyce's, parodying the epic narrator in Ezra Pound's first two Cantos, bar girls and businessmen, a subway attendant in Seoul who taught Derrida the key of deconstruction, and Kim-il Sung. In recent work, YHCHI have begun using songs, the words of which frequently offer oblique or ironic contrasts to the lines of text scrolling up the screen. For example, the Kim-il Sung piece ("Cunnilingus in North Korea") delivers a message from the dear leader to South Koreans (and presumably tout le monde since it is in English) extolling the superiority of North Korean sexual experience over that available under capitalism (itself a wonderfully daft parody of hard ideological sell) while the audio track has Nina Simone singing "C-line Woman," a blues song celebrating a sexually powerful woman ("wiggle, wiggle, turn like a cat,/ wink at a man and he wink back"). The technique has points of similarity with "Textual Tango," but YHCHI's "remixes" have a special tendency toward cross-cultural montage, as if the multiple coordinated modes of Flash afford opportunities for displaying and celebrating fluency in numerous quite disparate cultural idioms-the artistic response, YHCHI might say, to globalization. Fortunately, when viewing these works, one is already on the Web, and typing into Google a line or two from an unfamilar song (such as, to me, "C-line Woman," "Ramona," or "Arirang") will tap the collective on-line wisdom of the globe, which on such points is considerable. ⁴

Conclusion:

Combining a very rapid scrolling tempo with multiple channels and with culturally unfamiliar material pushes our capacities to process what we see/hear to the extreme (and Flash cannot be paused or rewound, only replayed). To read it at all requires one's utmost, focused, and sustained attention-well, sustained for three to five minutes at least, which on the Web, that most distracting of places, is a very long time. Clearly the contemporary Web enlarges the possibilities for mixing text and image far beyond what Greenberg might have imagined: dynamic textmontage represents the point of furthest distance from the classical single-channel Modernist painting presented in a museum--say the Rothko room--for absorption and serene contemplation. Walter Benjamin realized that Dada--and even more, cinema--challenged this ideal image of "the esthetic" in favor of one that re-enacted the shocks of modern city life under conditions of distraction (1966: secs. 14 and 15). Paradoxically, however, these Flash works reward the concentration of some of their viewers with an almost rapturous absorption. Others report migraine headaches.

I do not mean to suggest that these last pieces are the fullest realization of multimodal Web writing. They mark one extreme, and while they may elicit concentration in their viewers, they are not strong as objects of contemplation. Shockwave and Flash sites are scripted and will run with little or no viewer input, casting the viewer back in the role of spectator. But this software only affords "bombardment mode; " it does not force it on the artist, and it is also possible to make sites where the viewer chooses the pace and direction of movement: Broadway's set of six emblems is done in Director and Miller's "Moles" in Flash, and these intend a reflective engagement with the viewer.

If we ask what engages the mind and eye in the pages and sites discussed here and makes them more than text-with-illustration, we can extract one or two traits: in these pages, the physical and visual tends to move in the direction of emblem and metaphor rather than providing anchors to a literal, concrete world, and the textual and verbal shift from being pieces of speech acts to elements of design and performance--each, one might say, by attraction to the other. These disparate media and semiotic modes are yoked together with montage, hypertext, or Flash into multimodal conceits which suggest the perfect equivalence that Dr. Donne says we glimpsed in the person of Elizabeth Drury:

We understood
Her by her sight; her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought
That one might almost say her body thought.

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Bibliography

Benjamin, Walter. 1966 [1936]. 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction' in Arendt, Hannah (ed.) Illuminations: New York: Schocken: 217-51.

Foucault, Michel. 1983 [1973]. This Is Not a Pipe (tr. J.Harkness). Berkeley: University of California Press.

Mitchell, W. J. T. 1994. Picture Theory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Morley, Simon. 2003. Writing on the Wall. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Rosler, Martha. 1998. Positions in the Life World. (ed. Catherine de Zegher). Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

URLs for pages discussed

Broadway, Geoff. 'The Glass'. http://www.intentional.co.uk/glass/index.htm

Campbell, Ian. 'Male Cliché'. http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/book/wordsinimages/ianc_male.jpg

Doll Yoko and Freeman, Andi. 'Zombie Princess'.http://dollyoko.thing.net//zombie/

Fisher, Caitlin. 'These Waves of Girls'. http://www.yorku.ca/caitlin/waves/

Loseby, Jess. 'Textual Tango'.http://www.rssgallery.com/textualtango.htm

Miller, Liz. 'Moles'. http://drunkenboat.com/db2/miller/miller.html

Miranda, Maria and Newmark, Norie. 'Machine Organs'. http://ctheory.library.cornell.edu/art/11/

Navas, Eduardo. 'Q Story'. http://www.navasse.net/Qstory/systemStory2.html .

Swiss, Thomas and Giorando, Skye. 'Genius'. Drunken Boat, 2. http://drunkenboat.com/db2/s-g/s-g.html

Young Hae Chang Heavy Industries. 'Cunnilingus in North Korea'. http://www.yhchang.com/CUNNILINGUS_IN_NORTH_KOREA.html

Zelynskyj, Stef. 'The Shaddow'. http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/book/wordsinimages/szelynsky.jpg