Literature
Synthesis: putting things together
To observe the textual codedness of digital systems of
course implies the danger of generalizing and projecting one's
observations of digital code onto literature as a whole.
Computers operate on machine language, which is syntactically
far less complex than human language. The alphabet of both
machine and human language is interchangeable, so that ''text''
- if defined as a countable mass of alphabetical signifiers -
remains a valid descriptor for both machine code sequences and
human writing. In syntax and semantics however, machine code
and human writing are not interchangeable. Computer algorithms
are, like logical statements, a formal language and thus only a
restrained subset of language as a whole.
However, I believe it is a common mistake to claim that
machine language would be only readable to machines and hence
irrelevant for human art and literature and, vice versa,
literature and art would be unrelated to formal languages.
It is important to keep in mind that computer code,
and
computer programs, are not machine creations and machines
talking to themselves, but writings by humans.5
The programmer-artist Adrian
Ward suggests that we put the assumption of the machine
controlling the language upside down:
''I would rather suggest we should be thinking about
embedding our own creative subjectivity into automated
systems, rather than naively trying to get a robot to have
its 'own' creative agenda. A lot of us do this day in, day
out. We call it programming.''6
Perhaps one also could call it composing scores, and it does
not seem accidental to me that musical artists have picked up
and grasped computers much more thoroughly than literary
writers. Western music is an outstandig example of an art which
relies upon written formal instruction code. Self-reflexive
injokes such as ''B-A-C-H'' in Johann Sebastian Bach's music,
the visual figurations in the score of Erik Satie's ''Sports et
divertissements'' and finally the experimental score drawings
of John Cage shows that, beyond a merely serving the artwork,
formal instruction code has an aesthetic dimension and
intellectual complexity of its own. In many works, musical
composers have shifted instruction code from classical score
notation to natural human language. A seminal piece, in my
opinion, is La Monte Youngs ''Composition No.1 1961'' which
simply consists of the instruction ''Draw a straight line and
follow it.''7
Most Fluxus performance
pieces were written in the same notation style. Later in 1969,
the American composer Alvin Lucier wrote his famous ''I am
sitting in a room'' as a brief spoken instruction which very
precisely tells to perform the piece by playing itself back and
modulating the speech through the room echoes.
In literature, formal instructions is the necessary
prerequisite of all permutational and combinatory poetry.8 Kabbalah and magical spells
are important examples as well.
But even in a conventional
narrative, there is an implict formal instruction of how - i.e.
in which sequence - to read the text (which maybe or followed
or not, as opposed to hypertext which offers alternative
sequence on the one hand, but enforces its implicit instruction
on the other). Grammar itself is an implicit, and very
pervasive formal instruction code.
Although formal instruction code is only a subset of
language, it is still at work in all speech and writing.
It is particularly remarkable about computing that the
namespace of executable instruction code and nonexecutable code
is flat. One cannot tell from a snippet of digital code whether
it is executable or not. This property does not stand out in
the alphabet of zeros and ones, but is solely dependent on how
another piece of code - a compiler, a runtime interpreter or
the embedded logic of a microprocessor - processes it. Computer
code is highly recursive and highly architectural, building
upon layers of layers of code.
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