October 27

In regards to the ontological perspective, when translating writing or artwork into another medium, there is inevitably both something lost in the translation and imprinted on the work by the technology used. For example, when someone takes a photograph of say, a 10' by 14' painting, they at first lose the effect of size of the original and second, transform the painting into a digital etching on a disk. Next, when they transfer that image onto a computer, the image now becomes a series of pixels that can be manipulated using editing software. Lastly, the photographer can print a representation of the painting that is smaller, pixelated in nature and vastly different from the original.

The text refers to this phenomenon in stating that "even if the essential messages remain intact, the respective medium imprints its signature into the code; consequently, every medium creates something new, even if it works with preexistent codes." I disagree, however, with the assertion that because "that which is perceivable reflects the underlying structures" that it is therefore "not a surface," and simply an emergence of interaction of other levels. To go back to the painting, there are multiple layers of paint on the canvas, each building on one another and interaction as a whole. When complete, the finished piece is more than just the sum of different layers of parts. Another level has been created that is more concrete and alive that the individual layers.

Similarly, when someone begins to use computers or Flash to communicate or to create art, they are creating something beyond just all the layers. It's like putting all the pieces to a puzzle together only to find out that when the last piece is in place that the puzzle is alive like some jigsaw Frankenstein monster. Yes, it is true that the monster could not live without the existence of each layer, but nor could the layer fulfill its potential without the life of the whole.

How I use Flash in this context is to remember both sides: that each layer is important and vital and consists of bits and pieces that have the potential to live and also that only when every layer is in place can there be hope for life. Referring to the idea that things will inevitably get lost in the translation, I think that absolutely true, but not necessarily as a kind of failing. Moreover, often what happens when I plug all my ideas into Flash is something beyond what I saw in my mind. The technology contributes and polishes the ideas I have and creates something better...well, normally it's better. On occasion, the technology distorts and twists my intentions, but normally it's the former.

Lastly, what I find interesting about this process, as we refer to it as translating and encoding, is that, like two foreigners trying to communicate despite language differences, that there are ways to break through and to understand. Flash teaches me and shows me its version of what I'm telling it to do, even though I might stutter with the syntax and accidentally tell it something different. My original intention is lost in my own lack of knowledge of the language of Flash, but sometimes the accident is better than the intention. In this way, I learn from my mistakes and create more than I intended.