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Showing posts with label Mark Farid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mark Farid. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
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Every day we struggle to define ourselves in relation to the amorphous mass of humanity. In a sea of styles, opinions, tastes and philosophies we compete to stick our head above the parapet and yell "I exist!". What is a Facebook wall, a Twitter page, a culture website or an Instagram feed if not a way to to assert our individuality in a world where we're silently categorised by pure demographics? But what is this identity made of? How strong is it? Can you destroy it and don a new one? Is who you are determined by what you do, see and hear or by what you think?
It's these questions that Mark Farid wants to answer. That's is why he's spending 28 days with virtual reality goggles strapped to his head, vicariously experiencing someone else's life through twin HD cameras and microphones attached to a subject.. This is, to say the least, an ambitious project. Questions arise almost immediately. How on earth can he spend a month in virtual reality? Whose life is going to be observed? How will he eat, shower or sleep? Won't his eyesight get ruined? Who's going to look after him? And so on and so on.
Well, the only criteria for the life to be recorded, known as the 'Other', is that they're a heterosexual male who is living with a girlfriend or wife. It'd be interesting in itself to see how Mark would react to living in a woman's head for a month, but that arguably diffuses the focus of the exercise. Having a partner allows the Other to explain what they're doing at any given time; for example rather than just going out to the shops he'd say "I'm going out to the shops to get some milk", allowing Mark to understand what's going on.
If all goes to plan the artist will be a silent passenger in a complete stranger's head: seeing, hearing and tasting everything they do. This complete lack of autonomy sounds equally frustrating and boring, after all life can be dull enough when you're the one in charge of what you're doing. I imagine what Mark wants to experience as being a very special kind of hell, stuck as the ultimate backseat driver; silently fuming at all the 'wrong' decisions, idiotic comments and wincing with embarrassment as someone makes a fool of themselves.
Professor Simon Baron-Cohen has made a series of predictions as to the psychological impact of this; "he might become more empathetic ... he might experience distorted perceptions and even delusions". Mark himself predicts that "after five or six days my breakdown will happen, and then it becomes interesting." I detected a slightly cavalier approach to mental health in this answer; so I asked Mark if he considers himself a masochist. He denied it, but to my eyes anyone who will willingly subject themselves to something that comes close to torture for so long in the name of art must derive some satisfaction from inflicting pain upon himself.
After all, even though Mark will be viewing video through VR goggles, this is still a form of sensory deprivation, the duration and intensity reminiscent of the CIA's astonishingly unethical MK ULTRA experiments. They'd take volunteers, remove stimulus (placing goggles on them that diffused light and headphones that played constant low noise) and confine them for extended periods of time to observe the psychological impact. The most relevant of these experiments involved altering the receptiveness of the subject to new ideas; for example taking psychology students, removing external stimulus, and exposing them to recordings of voices expressing creationist, mystical and generally delusional opinions, notions that scientists could be expected to oppose.
What was discovered was that after prolonged periods of sensory deprivation the subjects would become overly vulnerable to any stimulation. They'd would find themselves in agreement with whatever they were told, even if they were ideas that they'd have automatically dismissed as ridiculous prior to the experiment.
Of particular note to Mark is a quotation from Alfred McCoy's excellent book A Question of Torture: CIA Interrogation, from the Cold War to the War on Terror: "Even short term deprivation produced a devastating impact upon the human psyche. After just two to three days ... the subject's very identity had begun to disintegrate". He later reports that the subjects "all suffered eerie hallucinations akin to mescaline use as well as deterioration in the capacity to think systematically and concludes by noting the potential for "serious disturbance" in the subject's life.
Long term impacts included, at worst, regression to a child-like mental state, though and former subjects had a worrying tendency to end up homeless, schizophrenic, drug addicted or victims of suicide (or any combination of the above). Now, Mark, curator Nimrod Vardi and director John Ingle repeatedly underline that this is not a test of endurance, that they'll have medical professionals monitoring Mark and if its judged that he's experiencing permanent damage they'll stop the experiment immediately. Even so, after a load of publicity, hype and fundraising there'll be obvious pressure to keep this going as long as feasibly possible.
Now I have absolutely no problems with someone harming themselves for the sake of art, it's Mark's body and as long as he's not harming anybody else he can do with it what he likes. In addition I'm ghoulishly curious as to how long he can stand it (my prediction is that if the CIA's guinea pigs freaked out so quickly, he'll crack within the first week and the medical team will stop the experiment).
A man exploring whether its possible to erase his own identity and live the life of another used to be the stuff of science fiction. But with new technology, imagination, ambition and Mark's willpower and endurance we can explore questions that will become ever more relevant as we face a digital future in which apparently anything is possible.
I deeply hope Mark raises the money to fund this crazy experiment, if only because I want to live in a world where things like this can happen. To my eyes he stands like an explorer of old confronted by an infinite ocean. What's on the other side? You may have to sacrifice your safety, health and sanity to know (and maybe the ocean really does stretch on forever), but sometimes these sacrifices are truly worthwhile.
More articles to come as this experiment develops.
Kickstarter here.
Website here.
Of particular note to Mark is a quotation from Alfred McCoy's excellent book A Question of Torture: CIA Interrogation, from the Cold War to the War on Terror: "Even short term deprivation produced a devastating impact upon the human psyche. After just two to three days ... the subject's very identity had begun to disintegrate". He later reports that the subjects "all suffered eerie hallucinations akin to mescaline use as well as deterioration in the capacity to think systematically and concludes by noting the potential for "serious disturbance" in the subject's life.
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| A CIA experimental isolation cubicle. |
Now I have absolutely no problems with someone harming themselves for the sake of art, it's Mark's body and as long as he's not harming anybody else he can do with it what he likes. In addition I'm ghoulishly curious as to how long he can stand it (my prediction is that if the CIA's guinea pigs freaked out so quickly, he'll crack within the first week and the medical team will stop the experiment).
A man exploring whether its possible to erase his own identity and live the life of another used to be the stuff of science fiction. But with new technology, imagination, ambition and Mark's willpower and endurance we can explore questions that will become ever more relevant as we face a digital future in which apparently anything is possible.
I deeply hope Mark raises the money to fund this crazy experiment, if only because I want to live in a world where things like this can happen. To my eyes he stands like an explorer of old confronted by an infinite ocean. What's on the other side? You may have to sacrifice your safety, health and sanity to know (and maybe the ocean really does stretch on forever), but sometimes these sacrifices are truly worthwhile.
More articles to come as this experiment develops.
Kickstarter here.
Website here.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
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I bet your eyes just glazed over. Mine certainly did. How much of this deathly dull legalese do we skip through over the course of a week? Nobody reads them, nobody cares and I'm not even sure they're legally enforceable. But as we sign over our rights with a disinterested click of a mouse what are we agreeing to and what might the possible consequences be? Profile Picture by Mark Farid explores this hazy world of digital consent, showing us the consequences of signing over our personal information.
As you enter the gallery you come face to face with the Facebook login screen. A sign next to it commands: "Login to Facebook. Click Allow. Wait for the camera to take your picture automatically. Click confirm once you like the photograph and the image is uploaded to your Facebook. Continue to the exhibition upstairs." With twin lights illuminating your face it looks vaguely shrinelike and so, wanting to get the full experience for this article, I dutifully entered my login details.
There was a sensible part of me that was murmuring "what are you doing you idiot this computer could be virused up to the nines" but I've been to Arebyte loads of times and I suppose I trust them this much. Anyway, I very definitely made sure I was logged out before I left. No harm done, right?
On heading upstairs you're first confronted by your face projected onto the gallery stairs, then by a quick summary of your personal information, together with the last photo you'd uploaded. Listed is your name, age and other assorted personal information - your likes, dislikes and the last three links you've posted. It's slightly disconcerting, but hey, if people know I like watching movies and listening to bands who cares?
Then you turn the corner. Suspended from the ceiling of the gallery are three printers, spooling out long tangled snakes of paper. Glancing at them in curiosity I wondered what they were printing out. Then I spotted my name and some rather familiar text... My private messages! A nervous grin plastered itself across my face as I desperately tried to remember if I'd said anything incriminating or insulting in the last few weeks. I felt a combination of embarrassment, annoyance and fear as I saw every bit of rubbish I'd nattered on about recently spill through the public's grubby hands.
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| Someone else's profile information (anonymised) |
I was slightly annoyed about this, but then I suppose I brought it upon myself. Apparently other people were less sanguine - one couple getting into a fierce argument as it was discovered one of them was chatting with a strange man and further more complaining of invasions of privacy. Farid is right on the edge of an ethical line here, revealing the kinds of information that could conceivably wreck friendships and destroy relationships is dangerous territory.
This danger is precisely why this is so good. It takes guts to piss people off like this in service of your argument. I love art that explains itself forcefully, straightforwardly and immediately, an installation with something to say and a punkish playful attitude in saying it. Anyway, the perfect counter-argument to anyone that's really got a bee in their bonnet about this is that they agreed that this would happen.
Also helping is the simple fact that Farid's point about how frivolously we scatter our personal data is a good one. The obscene wealth of Facebook and Google (to name the two most prominent companies) proves that one of the most sought after commodities in the 21st century aren't minerals or food - it's information. Like gardeners putting up fly paper in a greenhouse they create a compelling, enjoyable network to inhabit, which we then become mired in -unable to escape.
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| My secret chat info. Thrilling I know. |
In a cruel twist, the more we put into these systems the more we get back from them, and the more the companies learn about us. There's a good argument that the being that knows you best in the world isn't your wife, husband, mother, father or friends - it's Google. Their algorithms hoover up the secrets you'd rather stay secret - embarrassing problems, fears and phobias and your most perverse sexual kicks.
As this data grows a profile on a distant server farm gather more and more information, bulging at the seams with everything it can find out about you - the aim to decide how best to sell you stuff you don't need. So what are prostituting our minds for? Free social networking? Free email? Free maps? And you know what? I'm actually relatively okay with this.
I like using Facebook and I like using Google. Each company has its fair share of ethical black holes, but if they want to mine my brain to try and sell me shit (which is probably blocked by AdBlock anyway) then I'm largely fine with it. What's important is that we recognise what's going on, and Farid's Profile Picture spells out how much we data we put out without the slightest consideration.
It's a smartly tech-adept, brave installation. The visual of the paper spilling from above like manna from heaven, tangling into chromasomal knots on the floor is both striking and aesthetically pleasing, and the enjoyment of sifting through the text gives you voyeuristic tingle. Most importantly it's art that makes you feel something - a sensation that's often lacking in this coolly conceptual climate.
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