TOWP is in the Electronic Literature Collection! (Vol. 4)

I am honored and humbled to be part of the ELC (Vol.4) with my project The Offline Website Project!

The Electronic Literature Collections are arguably the most influential e-lit anthologies in the world, capturing the ethos of a time (as well as the state of the discipline worldwide), and although all previous volumes have been amazing, Vol. 4 definitely stands out *and not bc I am in it, ok?*. Conceived during the pandemic, the editors of volume 4 (Kathi Inman Berens, John T. Murray, R. Lyle Skains, Rui Torres and Mia Zamora) made the important choice of centering equity, diversity and inclusion in their selection process, including 132 literary works from 42 author nationalities in 31 languages, with more BIPOC, queer, and female or female-identifying authors than any volume before. You can read more about their curatorial statement here.

ELC Vol. 4 is featuring two works from The Offline Website Project (TOWP), “beauty routine: a burning desire” and “Room #3.” The latter is a crossover piece between TOWP and Corporate Poetry, written in direct response to the COVID19 lock down, and our increasing reliance on video conferencing software like Zoom. My use of the multiple video grid and the medium-close up shots of me as speaker point to that world.

However, when I wrote “beauty routine” back in 2019, I did not know that a global pandemic was about to change our lives forever, and even though the aesthetics of the works are quite similar, and the local-global matrix is still very much in place, I was thinking about something different. I wanted to talk about the violence behind our conceptions of beauty, as a supposedly universal idea or experience that has always varying local manifestations, and in this way I thought about it as a sort of hyperobject. I was thinking about how these kinds of universal ideals are behind the exploitation of local environments and beings (what, following modernity’s logic, we have come to understand as “nature”), and I created “beauty routine” as a commentary on climate damage, trying to establish a poetic link between these concepts. Yet, the piece features me applying lipstick (and taking out my braces), changing how I look to be prettier, and in that way the work has also become a commentary on the violence we exert over our bodies in order to change them, manipulating matter to fit a certain beauty ideal, now promoted on social media as the contemporary distributor of modernity’s violent universals. This is what the editors of the collection have focused on, explaining that

“Saum unmasks the illusion of effortless, ‘natural’ beauty in the specific medial context (YouTube) where makeup tutorials, streaming Influencer hijinks, and the direct-address vlogging style are common, and profitable for Alphabet which owns YouTube. Saum deconstructs the tropes and conventions of makeup tutorials. Her refusal to host these vlogs on the web draws attention to technical infrastructures that profit from the confected intimacy of watching people in their bedrooms and bathrooms. “Beauty Routine” is thus a feminist infrastructural critique”

https://collection.eliterature.org/4/beauty-routine

The whole collection is truly fantastic and I do hope you browse through it! I would recommend playing around the different categories they offer, because their metadata work is state of the art!

COVID E-LIT, a new documentary

Remember those early days back in the Spring of 2020 when the world stopped? When we were paralyzed by fear and policy? A new documentary, COVID E-LIT: Digital Art During the Pandemic, produced by Anna Nacher, Søren Bro Pold, Scott Rettberg and Ashleigh Steele,  

follows sixteen digital artists’ experiences of the early COVID-19 pandemic throughout the United States, South America, and Europe. Through interviews with each artist, the documentary explores how measures taken to control the pandemic affected their artistic practice, ability to engage collaborators and audiences, daily life, and – most crucially – the subjects of the art they produced.

https://retts.net/covid_elit/

I was one of the lucky artists to be considered for this project, featuring my Room #3 (watch it here!), together with some amazing folks I very much admire like Annie Abrahams, Giselle Beiguelman, xtine burrough, Erik Loyer, Bilal Mohamed, Judd Morrissey, Jörg Piringer…. and many more!

Watch the full documentary>>>>

And learn more about the project here.

Happy New Year! Here’s a New Poem

10 days into the new year and it feels like 2020 is still dragging… (2022 is pronounced “twenty twenty too” for a reason). But not all is bad news, here’s a lovely new poem I built using Qualtrics to cheer you up: Potential Ideas and Other Things that Live in Your Gut

It was published on Hyperrhiz right at the end of 2021, together with some fantastic essays by fellow e-lit researchers. I also wrote an artist statement where I explain how the poem works following the structure of a product concept test. This means that the poem captures real-time feedback on readers’ selection of eleven new poetic concepts by evaluating their emotional and aesthetic response to a set of surprising biological facts about bacteria and human development. Take the poem and see for yourself:

We thank you for your data.

On bodies, surveys, virus and rooms…

Enter Corporate Poetry:

I am thrilled to share this new article on my Corporate Poetry project that just got published in Texts of Discomfort (Carnegie Mellon ETC Press, 2021), edited by María Cecilia Reyes and James Pope. In their own words:

Can discomfort be blissful? This volume presents an in-depth reflection of the selected artworks for the Art Exhibition of the 13th International Conference on Interactive Digital Storytelling – ICIDS 2020 – during the most memorable year of the 21st century. The title of the book is the homonym of the curatorial theme of the exhibition, ‘Texts of Discomfort’. In these pages, interactive storytellers explain their work and the ways in which discomfort – and bliss – is rooted in their art.

The essays here also demonstrate how artistic expression so often springs from challenge: the year of COVID-19 produced unexpected artistic and technical innovation. This book is a unique blend of academic thinking, research, and artistic practice, and is also a valuable record of a collection of cutting-edge interactive digital storytelling.

The book is Open Access and can be downloaded here. But, you can also get a beautiful print copy!

A new show, a new talk, and a new life

This Fall semester has been particularly quiet in terms of work, yet substantially louder in terms of life. Oh, the noise a new baby makes! Still, I didn’t want to let too much time pass without a little update, because I did participate in a couple exciting art projects.

My interactive poem “Potential Ideas and Other Things that Live in Your Gut” was on display at Refamiliarization, a multimedia exhibition at Platform Artspace in Berkeley. You can check out their website description to know more, but I am happy to report that the poem itself will soon be published somewhere else and will share more then.

If, however, you are still curious about what my art practice has been up to lately, you may want to watch this artist talk I gave at BAMPFA, as part of their Arts + Design Thursdays lecture series, which are made possible thanks to support from the Big Ideas Courses Program in the College of Letters & Science at UC Berkeley. It was a bit weird to be talking in person to a bunch of people on zoom but I guess that’s the new hybrid reality we currently are living. Check it out!

More shows, more talks, and a wonderful undergrad class to end the last semester of the end of the world

With what I hope is the-last-semester-of-remote-teaching coming to an end, I’ve finally found a little time to share some highlights of the past few months. First and foremost, I have really enjoyed teaching an undergraduate course on the Long Spanish Transition to Democracy where we explored how Spanish sensibilities and citizens’ sense of politics have changed (or not) as they are represented in popular cultural products since Franco’s dictatorship till pretty much today. I had not planned it this way, but the class ended up being a crash course on feminist studies (for me) so I have my brilliant and courageous students to thank for that!

I also gave a bunch of talks and had a couple of artworks exhibited this semester. A somewhat oldie, Red Emoji Heart (2016), was on display at the most wonderful online show ever: Unbounded Unleashed Unforgiving: Reconsidering Cyberfeminism in 2021, curated by Mel Clemmons and Liss LaFleur. Featuring 24 artists (including yours truly), this exhibition was part of a multimodal exploration into cyberfeminism, and curated content also included a pre-recorded video, highlighting the Cyberfeminist Index with Mindy Sue, as part of the College Art Association and New Media Caucus 2021 programming. Unbounded Unleashed Unforgiving was a virtual exhibition hosted by newart.city on view from February 10 through May 10, 2021. I also gave a short artist talk as part of the closing event, so check that out too because it should be recorded somewhere! For full details please visit: cyberfeminism2021.com

[Red Emoji Heart next to other artwork on display at UUU]
[(Dizzying) Video walk-thru of a couple of domes of UUU, showing Red Emoji Heart]

As part of the Electronic Literature Organization’s 2021 exhibitions, my work Room #3 is also on display in the COVID E-LIT online exhibit. You can visit the piece here, but you might want to wait a little if you find yourself to be Zoomed out these days.

The show features some fantastic work that responds thematically to the pandemic and/or are produced within the specific context of platform culture during the pandemic. It was curated by Anna Nacher, Søren Pold, and Scott Rettberg and is on display during May 2021.

The COVID E-Lit team, sponsored by DARIAH-EU, have also been working on a documentary featuring some of the artists, and you can check out some of the excerpts here. You can listen to me talking a little bit about Room #3 as well:

Finally, I gave a few scholarly talks at different venues. I shared my research on using digital tools to teach e-lit (mostly in Spanish but not only) as a kind of material practice at the Modern Language Association (January 2021) and I participated in a project sponsored by Radley College Oxford to help Spanish A Level high school candidates in the UK prepare for their exams. I was asked to discuss Almodóvar’s movie Volver, which was a treat since I don’t get to talk about such things much! Here’s the video for that webinar as well. And, least but definitely not last, I was happy to share my research on web materiality and the Capitalocene at the European Society for Literature, Science and the Arts annual conference in March. This talk is part of what I hope is going to be my next book, so it was exciting to share. Now, if I only I found the time to work on that book project…

Maybe next academic year? Till then, my friends. Thank you for reading.

A

Another show, more publications, a fabulous grad class, and the eternal sunshine of the COVID-19 pandemic

Fall is way on its way and I have [as always] been falling behind on sharing good news. Here’s a few lovely things that happened this semester:

I published a new poem “Made to Disappear” in the German-Austrian magazine Perspektive, part of a special issue on the digital avant-garde curated by Sylvia Egger. This is a short poem that repurposes the data gathered by one of my earlier interactive survey poems [Room #2, in particular, which was first published in The New River last Spring]. It’s a poem also largely about death, silence and disappearance–all fun stuff, obviously. I am ever so grateful to the Poetry and the Senses Fellowship from the Arts Research Center at Berkeley, because without them and the amazing and humbling poets there, I would have never been able to imagine this larger “corporate poetry” project, which is giving me so much.

So much, indeed! “corporate poetry” was also exhibited online in full at the “Texts of Discomfort” juried exhibition, part of ICIDS 2020. Below is a cheesy video of me explaining what the project is all about, so if you don’t have time to visit the exhibit, you can also just watch this [but really, visit the show, it’s just a click away and it features some cool artists]:

Enough with the artist stuff already–professor hat on now: I also found out this semester that my article “Memory Traces: Printed Electronic Literature as a Site of Remembrance,” finally came out in Comparative Literature Studies. 57.1 (2020): 69-94. Not sure exactly when in the year this came out since I found it serendipitously when googling for something else, but I am equally delighted! [Even more so, good surprises are always so fun].

This is an essay where I look at two novels that I really like, Steven Hall’s The Raw Shark Texts (2007) and Robert Juan-Cantavella’s Otro (2001). I read them as examples of printed electronic literature, where the use of the codex book as inscription mechanism emphasizes a previous state of digital composition. Appearing in different parts of the globe and in different languages—United Kingdom/English and Spain/Spanish correspondingly [hey, just like me!]—I explain how both novels take full advantage of the computer and the Web’s contexts and capabilities in order to express the existing tension between both mechanisms of production and their treatment of memory. Their engagement with technology and the remaining digital traces that are present in their print pages are thus read as manifestations of a deeper historical mark, a [slightly ghostly] trace that engages history and the possibility of talking about a past that permeates through our present inscription mechanisms—that is, digital texts. What I essentially end up proposing in this essay is that these traces are to be read not just as media traces, but also as the trace of a history that cuts through the medium of inscription. I propose that we read new digital techniques for writing as unveiling a literary ruin, and that we think of them as building upon the decomposition of the novelistic form and its legendary ways of telling and recording memory and history [I know this sounds a little grandiose, but you know how I get sometimes]. You can find the complete essay here [or email me for a copy].

Aaaaaaaaand, finally, this semester I have been co-teaching with my bestie Élika Ortega a grad class on Digital Literary Arts that, although it started as an investigation into the material relation between “digital”, “literary” and “arts,” thinking these as intertwined and relational networks in the world, it might have ended up as an ode to posthumanism–about which I am only slightly surprised, and hugely delighted. I will be writing a post soon just on that [I hope], and I think Élika and I will be sharing our students’ artwork as well soon-ish, because what they have been making has been breathtaking and mind-blowing.

Many socially distanced hugs to all. And many thanks for reading.

new show, new publications, same pandemic

I am a little late on sharing some good news about wonderful stuff I have been lucky to be doing this summer (mostly because this summer I have also been juggling motherhood during the pandemic and so many other fun stories) but here!

Last July I was fortunate to have my piece “beauty routine” from The Offline Website Project on display at the (un)continuity virtual exhibition curated by Shannon Lindsay, Ha’ani Hogan, and Anastasia Salter. Originally meant as two separate installations for the UCF Art Gallery and Orlando CityArts, the exhibit is now a permanent virtual resource. Check out my work and accompanying statement here.

If that wasn’t cool enough, this August I am thrilled to be publishing together with Scott Rettberg a gathering of essays on the relation between DH and e-lit, “Electronic Literature [Frame]works for the Creative Digital Humanities,” rolling out 3 or 4 new essays at electronic book review until the end of the year. All content is Open Access, so feel free to check it out! Scott and I wrote a comprehensive introduction on the topic, and you can also read now my solo contribution “Digital Creativity as Critical Material Thinking: The Disruptive Potential of Electronic Literature,” where I expand on the importance of making art for research purposes *and, basically, to have a better life*

Enjoy and stay alive and online.

Sore Thumbs

**I originally published this elsewhere for the Arts Research Center**

I haven’t read a book in weeks. I spend all my reading hours glued to my phone. By the time I am done scrolling words, I feel motion sickness. My right thumb is sort of numb too. When I was a teenager I would go to my friend’s house and play Street Fighter until I got blisters. I am not one for originality, so you can safely guess it was thumb blisters for Ryu, Ken, or Chun-Li. I have been traveling on my screen of news since the pandemic started and I don’t even recall when that was. I read in the NYT that yesterday was now approximately six and a half years ago. It was a note about writers’ creativity during trying times. It said something about Camus and the Plague, Steinbeck and the Great Depression and Cervantes and the Inquisition. It also said something about how Don Quixote was published about a century into the Spanish Inquisition—but you know, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. OK, this was not in that essay, this was some sketch by Monty Python. I already said that I was never one for originality and that I haven’t read a book in weeks and that I have not been able to write anything for about six and a half years ago plus times the days since the pandemic started.

The NYT essay in question, “Someday, We’ll Look Back on All of This and Write a Novel” by Sloane Crosley, came with a photo of one of Matt Dorfman’s artist books, Love in the Time of COVID-19. Dorfman is not one for originality either. I also named the doodle where my students sign up to my new Zoom Office Hours “OH in the Time of COVID-19,” so I guess we are all on the same page here. It’s the page of not being able to read a book in six and a half years plus plus plus whatever time. Or not being able to write a word of poetry in six and half years plus plus plus plus plus plus whatever.

I wasn’t expecting this blog post to be about thumb blisters and confinement puns, but nobody expected the Spanish flu either. You hear a lot about the 1918 pandemic these days. Two months ago, or 142,350 days roughly in coronadays, I had planned to write about a new poetry series I called corporate poetry, which was meant to be an exploration into how corporate language captures that other corpora that is our bodies. I made a couple of interactive poems I called “rooms.” They were equal parts bright salt and dark and gloomy cobalt blue. But perhaps because, without me knowing it then, they were also a project on confinement, I feel unable to step into any of those rooms these days.

My son turns three this week and we’ll be doing a Zoom sing-a-long to connect his room to others. For roughly 142,350 days, Zoom has turned into another room for us. The corporate room. Perhaps here’s the poem I was looking for. I made a giraffe out of a pair of socks, turning myself slowly into a giraffe in the process as a good friend said. I am not used to sewing, so my thumbs hurt a little. I didn’t get blisters though.  

Alex Saum via her living room