On the Embodied Phenomenology of DeepFakes — Full Text of Talk from #SLSA21

DeepFake videos pose significant challenges to conventional modes of viewing. Indeed, the use of machine learning algorithms in these videos’ production complicates not only traditional forms of moving-image media but also deeply anchored phenomenological categories and structures. By paying close attention to the exchange of energies around these videos, including the consumption of energy in their production but especially the investment of energy on the part of the viewer struggling to discern the provenance and veracity of such images, we discover a mode of viewing that both recalls pre-cinematic forms of fascination while relocating them in a decisively post-cinematic field. The human perceiver no longer stands clearly opposite the image object but instead interfaces with the spectacle at a pre-subjective level that approximates the nonhuman processing of visual information known as machine vision. While the depth referenced in the name “deep fake” is that of “deep learning,” the aesthetic engagement with these videos implicates an intervention in the depths of embodied sensibility—at the level of what Merleau-Ponty referred to as the “inner diaphragm” that precedes stimulus and response or the distinction of subject and intentional object. While the overt visual thematics of these videos is often highly gendered (their most prominent examples being so-called “involuntary synthetic pornography” targeting mostly women), viewers are also subject to affective syntheses and pre-subjective blurrings that, beyond the level of representation, open their bodies to fleshly “ungenderings” (Hortense Spillers) and re-typifications with far-reaching consequences for both race and gender.

Let me try to demonstrate these claims. To begin with, DeepFake videos are a species of what I have called discorrelated images, in that they trade crucially on the incommensurable scales and temporalities of computational processing, which altogether defies capture as the object of human perception (or the “fundamental correlation between noesis and noema,” as Hussserl puts it). To be sure, DeepFakes, like many other forms of discorrelated images, still present something to us that is recognizable as an image. But in them, perception has become something of a by-product, a precipitate form or supplement to the invisible operations that occur in and through them. We can get a glimpse of such discorrelation by noticing how such images fail to conform or settle into stable forms or patterns, how they resist their own condensation into integral perceptual objects—for example, the way that they blur figure/ground distinctions.

The article widely credited with making the DeepFake phenomenon known to wider public in December 2017 notes with regard to a fake porn video featuring Gal Gadot: “a box occasionally appeared around her face where the original image peeks through, and her mouth and eyes don’t quite line up to the words the actress is saying—but if you squint a little and suspend your belief, it might as well be Gadot.” There’s something telling about the formulation, which hinges the success of the DeepFake not on the suspension of disbelief—a suppression of active resistance—but on the suspension of belief—seemingly, a more casual form of affirmation—whereby the flickering reversals of figure and ground, or of subject and object, are flattened out into a smooth indifference.

In this regard, DeepFake videos are worth comparing to another type of discorrelated image: the digital lens flare, which is both to-be-looked-at (as a virtuosic display of technical achievement) and to-be-overlooked (after all, the height of their technical achievement is reached when they can appear as transparently naturalized simulations of a physical camera’s optical properties). The tension between opacity and transparency, or objecthood and invisibility, is never fully resolved, thus undermining a clear distinction between diegetic and medial or material levels of reality. Is the virtual camera that registers the simulated lens flare to be seen as part of the world represented on screen, or as part of the machinery responsible for revealing it to us? The answer, it seems, must be both. And in this, such images embody something like what Neil Harris termed the “operational aesthetic” that characterized nineteenth-century science and technology expos, magic shows, and early cinema alike; in these contexts, spectatorial attention oscillated between the surface phenomenon, the visual spectacle of a machine or a magician in motion, and the hidden operations that made the spectacle possible.

It was such a dual or split attention that powered early film as a “cinema of attractions,” where viewers came to see the Cinematographe in action, as much as or more than they came to see images of workers leaving the factory or a train arriving at the station. And it is in light of this operational aesthetic that spectators found themselves focusing on the wind rustling in the trees or the waves lapping at the rocks—phenomena supposedly marginal to the main objects of visual interest.

DeepFakes also trade essentially on an operational aesthetic, or a dispersal of attention between visual surface and the algorithmic operation of machine learning. However, I would argue that the post-cinematic processes to whose operation DeepFakes refer our attention fundamentally transform the operational aesthetic, relocating it from the oscillations of attention that we see in the cinema to a deep, pre-attentional level that computation taps into with its microtemporal speed.

Consider the way digital glitches undo figure/ground distinctions. Whereas the cinematic image offered viewers opportunities to shift their attention from one figure to another and from these figures to the ground of the screen and projector enabling them, the digital glitch refuses to settle into the role either of figure or of ground. It is, simply, both—it stands out, figurally, as the pixely appearance of the substratal ground itself. Even more fundamentally, though, it points to the inadequacy, which is not to say dispensibility, of human perception and attention with respect to algorithmic processing. While the glitch’s visual appearance effects a deformation of the spatial categories of figure and ground, it does so on the basis of a temporal mismatch between human perception and algorithmic processing. The latter, operating at a scale measured in nanoseconds, by far outstrips the window of perception and subjectivity, so that by the time the subject shows up to perceive the glitch, the “object” (so to speak) has already acted upon our presubjective sensibilities and moved on. This is why glitches, compression artifacts, and other discorrelated images are not even bound to appear to us as visual phenomena in the first place in order to exert a material force on us. Another way to account for this is to say that the visually-subjectively delineated distinction between figure and ground itself depends on the deeper ground of presubjective embodiment, and it is the latter that defines for us our spatial situations and temporal potentialities. DeepFakes, like other discorrelated images, are able to dis-integrate coherent spatial forms so radically because they undercut the temporal window within which visual perception occurs. The operation at the heart of their operational aesthetic is itself an operationalization of the flesh, prior to its delineation into subjective and objective forms of corporeality. The seamfulness of DeepFakes—their occasional glitchy appearance or just the threat or presentiment that they might announce themselves as such—points to our fleshly imbrication with technical images today, which is to say: to the recoding not only of aesthetic form but of embodied aesthesis itself. 

In other words: especially and as long as they still routinely fail to cohere as seamless suturings of viewing subjects together with visible objects, but instead retain their potential to fall apart at the seams and thus still require a suspension of belief, DeepFake videos are capable of calling attention to the ways that attention itself is bypassed, providing aesthetic form to the substratal interface between contemporary technics and embodied aesthesis. To be clear, and lest there be any mistake about it, I in no way wish to celebrate DeepFakes as a liberating media-technology, the way that the disruption of narrative by cinematic self-reflexivity was sometimes celebrated as opening a space where structuring ideologies gave way to an experience of materiality and the dissolution of the subject positions inscribed and interpellated by the apparatus. No amount of glitchy seamfulness will undo the gendered violence inflicted, mostly upon women, in involuntary synthetic pornography. Not only that, but the pleasure taken by viewers in their consumption of this violence seems to depend, at least in part, precisely on the failure or incompleteness of the spectacle: what such viewers desire is not to be tricked into actually believing that it is Gal Gadot or their ex-girlfriend that they are seeing on the screen, but precisely that it is a fake likeness or simulation, still open to glitches, upon which the operational aesthetic depends. Nevertheless, we should not look away from the paradoxical opening signaled by these viewers’ suspension of belief. The fact that they have to “squint a little” to complete the gendered fantasy of domination also means that they have to compromise, at least to a certain degree or for a short duration, their subjective mastery of the visual object, that they have to abdicate their own subjective ownership of their bodies as the bearers of experience. Though it is hard to believe that any trace of conscious awareness of it remains, much less that viewers will be reformed as a result of the experience, it seems reasonable to believe that viewers of DeepFake videos must experience at least an inkling of their own undoing as their de-subjectivized vision interfaces with the ahuman operation of machine vision. 

What I am saying, then, and I am trying to be careful about how I say it, is that DeepFake videos open the door, experientially, to a highly problematic space in which our predictive technologies participate in processes of subjectivation by outpacing the subject, anticipating the subject, and intervening materially in the pre-personal realm of the flesh, out of which subjectivized and socially “typified” bodies emerge. The late Sartre, writing in the Critique of Dialectical Reason, defined commodities and the built environment in terms of the “practico-inert,” in light of the ways that “worked matter” stored past human praxis but condensed it into inert physical form. Around these objects, increasingly standardized through industrial capitalism’s serialized production processes, are arrayed alienated and impotent social collectives of interchangeable, fungible subjects. Compellingly, feminist philosopher Iris Marion Young takes Sartre’s argument as the basis for rethinking gender as a non-essentialist formation, a nascent collectivity, that is imposed on bodies materially—through architecture, clothing, and gender-specific objects that serve to enforce patriarchy and heterosexism. The practico-inert, in other words, participated in the gendered typification of the body—and we could extend the argument to racialization processes as well. But the computational infrastructures of today’s built environment are no longer adequately captured by the concept of the practico-inert. These infrastructures and objects are still the products of praxis, but they are far from inert. In their predictive and interactive operations, they are better thought of under the concept of the practico-alert—they are highly active, always on alert, and like the viewers of DeepFake videos on the lookout for a telling glitch, so are we ever and exhaustingly on the alert. In these circuits, which are located deeper than subjective attention, the standardization and typification processes I just mentioned are more fine-grained, more “personalized” or targeted, operating directly on the presubjective flesh. In this sense, the flattening of subjectivity, the suspension of belief and depersonalization of vision in DeepFake videos, points towards the contemporary “ungendering” of the flesh, as Hortense Spillers calls it in a different context, that marks a preliminary step in the computational intensification of racialized and gendered subjectivization. This is a truly insidious aesthetics of the flesh.Sartre and practico-inert — updated to practico-alert; cf. gender via Iris Marion Young: typification (or serialization) via practico-inert. Now a more direct, because immeasurably fast, operation on presubjective flesh.

Media Philosophy in the Flesh — talk in Stanford German Studies Lecture Series

Next Tuesday, October 5, 2021 (12pm Pacific), I will be giving a talk in Stanford’s German Studies Lecture Series titled “Media Philosophy in the Flesh.” See here for more information and Zoom registration.

SLSA Panel: “DeepFake Energies” #SLSA21

On Saturday, October 2, 2021, at 1pm Eastern / 10am Pacific, I will be participating along with Hannah Zeavin, Casey Boyle, and Hank Gerba in a panel on “DeepFake Energies” at the Society for Literature, Science, and the Arts (SLSA) conference (via Zoom).

The panel thinks about the energies invested and expended in DeepFake phenomena: the embodied, cognitive, emotional, inventive, and other energies associated with creating and consuming machine-learning enabled media (video, text, etc.) that simulate human expression, re-create dead persons, or place living people into fake situations. Drawing on resources from phenomenology, psychoanalysis, media theory, and computational exploration, panelists trace the ways that the generative energies at the heart of these AI-powered media transform subjective and collective experiences, with significant consequences for gender, race, and other determinants of political existence in the age of DeepFakes.

Here are the abstracts:

On the Embodied Phenomenology of DeepFakes (Shane Denson, Stanford)

DeepFake videos pose significant challenges to conventional modes of viewing. Indeed, the use of machine learning algorithms in these videos’ production complicates not only traditional forms of moving-image media but also deeply anchored phenomenological categories and structures. By paying close attention to the exchange of energies around these videos, including the consumption of energy in their production but especially the investment of energy on the part of the viewer struggling to discern the provenance and veracity of such images, we discover a mode of viewing that both recalls pre-cinematic forms of fascination while relocating them in a decisively post-cinematic field. The human perceiver no longer stands clearly opposite the image object but instead interfaces with the spectacle at a pre-subjective level that approximates the nonhuman processing of visual information known as machine vision. While the depth referenced in the name “DeepFake”​ is that of “deep learning,” the aesthetic engagement with these videos implicates an intervention in the depths of embodied sensibility—at the level of what Merleau-Ponty referred to as the “inner diaphragm” that precedes stimulus and response or the distinction of subject and intentional object. While the overt visual thematics of these videos is often highly gendered (their most prominent examples being involuntary synthetic pornography targeting mostly women), viewers are also subject to a”ective syntheses and pre-subjective blurrings that, beyond the level of representation, open their bodies to fleshly “ungenderings”​ (Hortense Spillers) and re-typifications with far-reaching consequences for both race and gender.

No More Dying (Hannah Zeavin, UC Berkeley)

“No More Dying” concerns itself with the status of DeepFakes in psychic life on the grounds of DeepFakes that reprise the dead. In order to think about whether DeepFakes as surrogates constitute an attempt at eluding pain—a psychotic technology—or are a new form of an ancient capacity to symbolize pain for oneself (Bion 1962), I will return to the status of objects as melancholic media and what this digital partial-revivification might do to and for a psyche. Is creating a virtual agent in the likeness of a lost object a new terrain (a new expression of omnipotent fantasy) or is it more akin to the wish fulfillment at the center of transitional phenomena and dreaming? Does a literal enactment and acting out lead to, as Freud would have it, a mastery and working through—or does the concrete nature of gaming trauma lead to a melancholic preservation of an internal object via an investment in the mediatized external object? Beyond the psychical implications of this form of reviving the dead, the paper troubles the assumptions and politics of this nascent practice by asking whose dead, and whose trauma, are remediated and remedied this way. More simply, which dead are eligible for reliving and, recalling Judith Butler’s question—which lives are grievable?

Low Fidelity in High Definition (Casey Boyle, UT Austin)

When thinking about DeepFakes, it is easy to also think about theorist Jean Baudrillard. It was Baudrillard who, early and often, rang alarm bells regarding the propensity of images and/as information to become unmoored from any direct referent. DeepFakes seem to render literal the general unease with the ongoing mediatization that Baudrillard traced. However, the uncertainty about a “real”​ is not only because of this severing real from fake, but is also because of a prior condition of media since, as Baudrillard claims, “… a completely new species of uncertainty results not from the lack of information but from information itself and even from an excess of information” (Baudrillard, 1985). The excessive overload of mediatization enables DeepFakes to persist as a threat because the energy and e”ort required to validate any given piece of media is an unsustainable practice when there are so many to verify. It seems then the only response to overload is to generate…more. This presentation reports on an ongoing project to re-energize Baudrillard by computationally generating new texts. Using an instance of GPT-3 machine learning—one trained on Baudrillard’s texts—the presenter will rely on “new”​ primary texts to comment on the rise of DeepFakes, Post-Truth, and Fake News. Ultimately, this presentation, relying on “new”​ primary work from Baudrillard, argues that we are not entering an era of Post- Truth but of Post-Piety, which is an era in which we have failed to spend energy building agreement and commonplace.

A Gestural Technics of Individuation as Descent (Hank Gerba)

Googling “What is a DeepFake?”​ returns a vertiginous list of results detailing the technical processes involved in their production. Operational images par excellence, DeepFakes have spawned an industry of verification practices meant to buttress the epistemological doubt their existence sows. It would seem then that to be concerned with DeepFakes is to be concerned with veridicality, but, as this presentation argues, this problematic is derivative of, and entangled with, an aesthetic encounter. What if we approach DeepFakes otherwise, arriving at, rather than departing from, a causal understanding of their technicity? When a DeepFake “works,” it succeeds in satisfactorily producing gestures characteristic of the person it has “learned”​ to perform—through these gestures it means them, and only them. The question DeepFakes pose, then, is no longer simply “Is this video a true representation of X?” but “Is this performance true to X?”​ Gestures therefore plunge us into the aesthetics of personhood; they are, as Vilém Flusser argues, that which mediate personhood by bringing it into the social manifold of meaning. By linking Flusser’s theory of gesture with Gilbert Simondon’s theory of individuation, this presentation concludes by arguing that DeepFakes are a gestural technics of individuation—machinic operations which enfold personhood within the topological logic of gradient descent.

Brief interview about new translation of POST-CINEMA

Julia Leyda and I were interviewed about the new translation of (selected essays from) our edited collection Post-Cinema: Theorizing 21st-Century Film. The interview, in Turkish, is now up at Gazete Duvar. For those of you who don’t speak Turkish (like me), here’s the original English:

You assert that “rather than positing a clear break with the past, the term post-cinema asks us more forcefully than the notion of ‘new media’ for example, to think about the relation (rather than mere distinction) between older and newer media regimes”. With the prefix ‘post’, you’re not indicating the death of cinema or an era that is after the cinematic but you talk about the space where the cinematic meets the digital, the computational. Could you please expand more on your understanding of the term ‘post-cinema’?

Julia Leyda: The digital is an important aspect of post-cinema, absolutely. Yet I also still see a film like Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story (1987) as post-cinematic, in that it was seen primarily via bootleg VHS tapes for several decades before appearing on video sharing sites like YouTube. The cable and satellite TV boom and the almost total saturation of home video technology in the late 20th century also fed into what we now call post-cinema, in the decentering of the viewing space and the proliferation of the “poor image” even before the digital copies that Hito Steyerl describes so eloquently. 

Shane Denson: Yes, I agree completely. The prefix post- isn’t supposed to mark a simple before and after. We think the digital marks a clear difference from celluloid-based cinema, but it’s one that builds on transformations connected with television, analog video, and early computational technologies, among others. Steve Shaviro somewhere remarks that it’s less about the newness of post-cinema, and more about the fact that these changes, which have been building for over fifty years, finally reached a critical mass in the twenty-first century, and that it no longer makes sense to pretend that the media regime we live in is adequately described by theories of the cinema—which is not to say that cinema-centric approaches are suddenly rendered useless, but they have to be resituated in a broader context, which we call post-cinema.

Reading your introduction, I also noticed that my meeting with cinema was indeed post-cinematic. In my childhood, I watched many films not at the theaters but in my house from the DVDs, connected to the tv screen. So I guess for a long time now, we are in the ‘post-cinematic’ age, with or without recognising it. Maybe the term just helped us to assign meaning, enabled us to discuss our experience?

JL: Precisely. The post in our usage of post-cinema is not meant to be stand for a hard break, but a gradual shift in which old and new technologies and social practices exist at the same time. In this sense, the dominant, emergent, and residual cultural forms overlap, much as earlier media theorists like Raymond Williams and Stuart Hall observed.

SD: And we don’t really know where things are going, either. Post-cinema is very much in flux, as the rise of streaming services and their recent proliferation (and some demises) attest. The pandemic really shook things up, of course, bringing new moving-image platforms into our lives and, at least temporarily, displacing traditional cinematic screenings (which haven’t actually been very “traditional” for quite some time). I think this was a good reminder that media are always in transition, and post-cinema doesn’t describe a fixed state but precisely this flux and transitionality that marks moving-image media technologies and cultures alike.

I would like to echo a question asked by Steven Shaviro in his blog ‘The Pinocchio Theory’. He says “what is the role or position of cinema when it is no longer what Fredric Jameson calls a ‘cultural dominant,’ when it has been ‘surpassed’ by digital and computer-based media? So what’s the position of cinema in the 21st century?

SD: I think this depends on what aspects of the cinema we are emphasizing—whether we are thinking primarily of screening venues, industries, experiences, or images, for example. The industries that produced “cinema” aren’t gone, and many of them are more powerful than ever. But their consolidation into global multimedia conglomerates has also transformed them, so that they are more closely bound up with the data and financial sectors. And the latter, where the dominant power resides, have very little to do with images—but everything to do with our experience.

JL: One position the cinema has come to occupy in 2020-21 during the pandemic is a place of nostalgia. As the aesthetics of “films” were already more tailored to the home screen where they will likely be viewed on a streaming service, the sudden shutdown of collective exhibition venues has exacerbated my awareness of the limitations of my living room screening options. I have sympathized with many of my cinephile colleagues and friends experiencing grief over the loss of the moviegoing experience at this time, although my own tendencies in recent years had already leaned more toward home viewing. 

You brought many different (and sometimes contradicting) authors together in this volume. Is this because the term ‘post-cinema’ itself includes various and sometimes contradicting meanings in itself?

JL: Absolutely. We felt it was very important to balance the book with contributions from the many approaches within film and media studies: philosophy, history, technology, as well as feminist, cultural studies, and environmental approaches. In particular, we tried to avoid producing a volume that would replicate what Racquel Gates and Michael Gillespie remind us about in their manifesto: the historic dominance of white men in film theory, in terms of practitioners and of objects of research, that still endures.

SD: Exactly. Again, the one thing we wanted to avoid is the impression that post-cinema is a single, fixed thing. It remains in flux, as the shifting site of negotiations between experience and culture, on the one hand, and changing environments and infrastructures. And questions of power and perspective are central to any attempt to account for these changes.

If you were to write and edit the book today, which discussions would you include/exclude in your edition?

JL: We definitely would need to discuss this! To name a couple of new developments I would want to include, there has been a lot more interesting work in eco-media studies, and I would also be very interested in including chapters that look at trans aesthetics and affects as interventions in the way we produce, perceive, and consume film and television. And of course the pandemic, as an abrupt change in social practices around cinema, television, and mobile video.

SD: I totally agree. Of course, the technological and industrial contexts have continued to change over the past couple of years, even before the pandemic. And who knows what the world will look like in a year or two? Even more importantly, our political realities have shifted in the past five years, with fascist and quasi-fascist movements on the rise around the world, but also major uprisings, such as took place in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, caught on a smartphone and circulated around the world. 

What particular messages would you like to give your readers living in Turkey who are enthusiastically waiting to read your book in their native language?

JL/SD: Welcome to the book and please enjoy it! We are so delighted to share it!

Interview about Discorrelated Images with Roger Whitson and Christian Haines (Gamers with Glasses podcast)

A couple of weeks ago, I was interviewed by Roger Whitson and Christian Haines for the Gamers with Glasses podcast. I don’t wear glasses, and I’m honestly not much of a gamer these days, but we still found lots of things to talk about, like:

what the Transformers movies might teach us about philosophy, how streaming has transformed how we literally see things, the appeal of vinyl records, and how Netflix and Hulu might just be responsible for the end of the world!

We also talked a little about my book Discorrelated Images (which is currently 50% off during Duke University Press’s Fall Sale with code FALL21). Check it out!

POST-CINEMA Translated into Turkish!

Under the title Post-Sinema – 21. Yüzyıl Sinemasının Kuramsallaştırılması, select essays from the open-access collection Post-Cinema: Theorizing 21st-Century Film have now been translated into Turkish and published by NotaBene Yayınları.

Here is the table of contents:

The book can be purchased directly from the publisher, here.

Out Now: Gaming and the “Parergodic” Work of Seriality in Interactive Digital Environments

Recently, at long last, the 2020 edition of Eludamos: Journal for Computer Game Culture, a special issue “On the Philosophy of Computer Games,” came out — followed immediately by the 2021 issue, so you might have missed it!

Included, among other things, is my article “Gaming and the ‘Parergodic’ Work of Seriality in Interactive Digital Environments,” which begins the work of reading seriality in a double register, as both a medial and a social phenomenon (following Sartre’s late work in the Critique of Dialectical Reason, among others).

Be sure also to check out Doug Stark’s excellent “Training for the Military? Some Historical Considerations Towards a Media Philosophical Computer Game Philosophy”!

Post-Cinematic Animation

Today I presented a short paper on “Post-Cinematic Animation” as part of a roundtable discussion at the Society for Animation Studies. The roundtable, on “Expanded Animation,” was organized by Deborah Levitt and Phillip Thurtle, and also included Heather Warren-Crow, Misha Mihailova, and Thomas Lamarre—all of whom gave excellent papers. Here’s mine:

My recent book Discorrelated Images (Duke UP 2020) is not first and foremost intended as an intervention in the field of animation studies. Rather, it is an attempt to bring together some of the primarily aesthetic concerns of cinema studies and visual culture more generally with media philosophical and media archaeological interests in the invisible, or anaesthetic if not positively anti-aesthetic, dimensions of technical infrastructures in order to understand how, on the one hand, images have become unyoked from subjective perception and how, on the other hand, this post-phenomenological “discorrelation” opens new avenues of political control and subjectivation. In short, algorithmic images are processed in microtemporal intervals that elude the window of subjective perception; operating faster than us, they thus not only exceed perceptual objecthood but also anticipate our subjectivities; with their predictive or protentional, future-oriented operations, such images mark a significant departure from the past-based recording paradigm of a cinematic media regime, such that post-cinematic media become potent agencies or vectors that lead the way in shaping who we will be; and they do this by operating at or on the cusp between the visible and the invisible, the subjective and the pre-subjective, the aesthetic and the insensible. 

But if, as I have said, this argument is not primarily framed in terms of animation studies, it necessarily implicates animation as both a thematic and a medial site of change. In a thread that runs through the book, the question of animation becomes a question precisely of the difference between cinema and post-cinema, one that resonates, in many ways, with Lev Manovich’s argument in the mid-1990s that the postindexical images of “digital cinema” are closer in spirit (and, in some respects, closer materially) to pre-cinematic technologies of animation—phenakistiscopes, thaumatropes, zoetropes, and the like—than to cinema in its classical form. Beyond formal and technical dimensions, I am interested in the philosophical implications, such as those foregrounded by Alan Cholodenko who, writing even earlier than Manovich, argued that “the idea of animation” should be approached “as a notion whose purchase would be transdisciplinary, transinstitutional, implicating the most profound, complex and challenging questions of our culture, questions in the areas of being and becoming, time, space, motion, change—indeed, life itself.” My approach to animation, as the locus of a media-historical transformation that also concerns a reconfiguration of subjectivation’s material parameters, therefore mediates between Manovich’s technical focus and Cholodenko’s philosophical one. I therefore follow Deborah Levitt in her recent probing of animation as “the dominant medium of our time”—by which she refers not to a specific technique but to a broad cultural and sociotechnical condition, which is related as much to moving-image technologies as to biomedical ones (from “novel developments in the biological sciences that open possibilities for producing living beings” to antidepressants and hormone therapy for transgender people); for Levitt, in short, ours is “the age of the animatic apparatus.” 

Two other recent theoretical interventions, by Esther Leslie and Joel McKim (writing in a special issue of Animation) and Jim Hodge (in his book Sensations of History: Animation and New Media Art), both suggest that animation mediates between human sense and the insensible processes of computation—a suggestion that helps ground the interrelation of concrete changes in media infrastructure and the forms of subjectivity that they subtend. For example, processes like motion smoothing, in which our so-called “smart TVs” algorithmically compute new images between visible frames and engage in a real-time generative tweening operation, or DeepFake and related AI-driven imaging processes that categorically elude perception in their black boxed operation—such acts of animation in its computationally expanded field activate what Merleau-Ponty referred to as the “inner diaphragm” between subjectivity and objectivity, which, “prior to stimuli and sensory contents, […] determines, infinitely more than they do, what our reflexes and perceptions will be able to aim at in the world, the area of our possible operations, the scope of our life.” That is, algorithmic animation is situated between embodied sensation and the circuits of computational processing, and it thus sets such a pre-subjective and likewise pre-objective membrane in motion, fundamentally recomputing what counts as an image and what our relation to it is. If this means that what Husserl called “the fundamental correlation between noesis and noema,” or the relational bond between perceptual consciousness and its intentional objects, is called into question by computational processes, then animation’s central role as mediator ensures that such discorrelation is not the end but the reinvigoration of embodied sensation—indeed, a redefinition of life itself in the contemporary world.

References:

Cholodenko, Alan. “Introduction.” In The Illusion of Life, edited by Alan Cholodenko, 9-36. Sydney: Power Publications, 1991.

Denson, Shane. Discorrelated Images. Durham: Duke University Press, 2020.

Hodge, James J. Sensations of History: Animation and New Media Art. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2019.

Husserl, Edmund. The Phenomenology of Internal Time Consciousness. Translated by James Churchill. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1964.

Leslie, Esther, and Joel McKim. “Life Remade: Critical Animation in the Digital Age.” Animation 12.3 (2017): 207-213.

Levitt, Deborah. The Animatic Apparatus: Animation, Vitality, and the Futures of the Image. Winchester, UK: Zero Books, 2018.

Manovich, Lev. “What Is Digital Cinema?” In Post-Cinema: Theorizing 21st-Century Film, edited by Shane Denson and Julia Leyda, 20-50. Falmer, UK: REFRAME Books, 2016.

Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. Phenomenology of Perception. Translated by Colin Smith. New York: Routledge, 2002. 

Gender, Seriality, Mediality

I have had the good fortune to be a Faculty Research Fellow at the Clayman Institute for Gender Research over the past academic year, which has given me an opportunity to work on a new project that thinks about serialization in digital cultures as a vector of change. The larger project takes off from Sartre’s concept of “seriality” (as developed in his late Critique of Dialectical Reason) and connects it to forms of serialized media in order to think about reconfigurations of class, gender, and race. Back in March, I presented some of the work pertaining to gender and embodiment to my colleagues at the Clayman, and they have now posted a short write-up about it. Here’s the (controversial) crux:

Also enjoy this image that I used to illustrate my talk!

Video: Marci Kwon, Usha Iyer, and Shane Denson on their new books

Above: my Department of Art & Art History colleagues Marci Kwon, Usha Iyer, and I speak about our recent books at the Company of Authors event, hosted by Peter Stansky and co-sponsored by Stanford Continuing Studies and the Stanford Humanities Center, on April 24, 2021:

Marci Kwon, Enchantments: Joseph Cornell and American Modernism
Usha Iyer, Dancing Women: Choreographing Corporeal Histories of Hindi Cinema
Shane Denson, Discorrelated Images