Professional Documents
Culture Documents
William Brown
Roehampton University, UK
Meetali Kutty
Delhi, India
Abstract
In this essay, we explore the aesthetic possibilities that are opened up by datamoshing, a practice
whereby audiovisual artists actively downgrade the quality of digital images in order to render a
more raw aesthetic on screen. We follow this up by exploring the ways in which datamoshing as a
practice (together with glitch art more generally) highlights the decay that digital images undergo
over time. Because it takes place through the deliberate compression of images, we here argue
that the aforementioned loss of quality is an artistic form of entropy, which leads us to the
possibility for a theory of digital chaos. However, since the loss of data is reworked by artists in
order to create new forms, we argue that this is a form of digital emergence of order out of
chaos, or digital complexity.
Keywords
chaos, complexity, datamoshing, digital images, emergence, audiovisual, DVD, artist, Walter
Benjamin
In this essay, we explore the aesthetic possibilities that are opened up by datamoshing, a practice
whereby audiovisual artists actively downgrade the quality of digital images in order to render a
more raw aesthetic on screen. We follow this up by exploring the ways in which datamoshing as a
practice (together with glitch art more generally) highlights the decay that digital images undergo
over time. Because it takes place through the deliberate compression of images, we here argue that
the aforementioned loss of quality is an artistic form of entropy, which leads us to the possibility
Corresponding author:
William Brown, Department of Media, Culture and Language, University of Roehampton, London, SW15 5PU, UK
Email: William.Brown@roehampton.ac.uk
for a theory of digital chaos. However, since the loss of data is reworked by artists in order to create
new forms, we argue that this is a form of digital emergence of order out of chaos, or digital
complexity.
cinema. But it shall do so by arguing that a digital copy often does not have more aura than the
original, but that in some senses it deliberately has less. In another article that evokes the title of
Benjamins essay, astrophysicist and Leonardo editor Roger F Malina has written that software is
ideally suited for what he terms post-mechanical, or generative, reproduction (1990: 37). In other
words, when software is used in conjunction with an artwork to copy it, something new can be generated (it functions as a genotype) and, we shall add, in the case of the datamosh, and glitch art
more generally, this paradoxically takes place through the deliberate degeneration of the original.
Without wishing too much to twist Benjamins words away from his original intention, then, in
the context of datamoshing and glitch art it is worth remembering that computer technologies and
their appropriation by artists for creative purposes do not bring about the ability perfectly to
reproduce originals in a mechanical/digital fashion even though this belief persists in some
quarters. Holly Willis (2005: 7), for example, argues that:
in terms of reproduction, digital tools allow for the theoretically infinite reproduction of material with
no loss of quality, affording new modes of production based on appropriation and sampling, and
indeed, contributing to a culture of sharing and recycling.
Contra Willis, storing data on a hard drive does not mean that they are kept safe forever, nor are
those data perfectly reproducible. In part, this can be related to technological innovation, which in
turn renders old systems of information storage both in terms of hardware and software
obsolete, such that the data become inaccessible because illegible. However, this is also because
data simply decay. With regard to films, nowhere is this made more apparent than when Disney
and Pixar decided to release Toy Story (John Lasseter, USA, 1995) on DVD in 2000. As Paolo
Cherchi Usai (2001: 100) has explained:
twelve percent of the digital masters had already vanished. For three months, Pixar Animation Studios
staff scoured the system for the toys missing parts salvaging all but one percent of what had been lost
in the computers. The remaining scenes were reassembled. For subsequent Pixar movies, Lasseter said,
we have a better backup system.
In other words, it would appear that even in the space of five years data can vanish or become
corrupted and need to be rewritten, particularly if the artwork containing those data is neglected
and not put to use (e.g. run through a program) from time to time.
Data compression
Furthermore, not only can data be simply corrupted and lost, but so too are data commonly
compressed (typically for the sake of storage space). Stephen Keane (2007: 37) points out that the
original data of a digital film remain the same even though they might be converted into a different
and new file according to whichever output format the filmmaker wishes to use. That is to say, a
filmmaker may wish to convert an .mp4 file of an audiovisual text into a .dv file, but, after Keane, it
is not the original (and invisible) data that are converted, so much as the format in which those
data are outputted. Keane notwithstanding, there is a loss of data that takes place when they are
compressed to fit a new form, such that in an extreme and admittedly non-Benjaminian sense
rarely do we see the original of a film. To create a DVD of a 90-minute film shot on HDV format,
for example, requires the compression of the data that comprise the film, because an uncompressed
90-minute film might typically be 20gb in size (if not significantly more), while the average singlelayer DVD can only hold 4.4gb of information.
Although the fact of compression is common knowledge and therefore to discuss it runs the risk
of being simplistic, it is important that we make clear what happens during data compression,
because it helps to set up a definition of datamoshing. When the data that make up a film are
compressed to fit onto a DVD, it is not that the original 20gb go on to the 4.4gb disc in a perfectly
miniaturised fashion, but that enormous amounts of those original 20gb are discarded. Typically
this involves keeping all of the data from prominent, or key, frames (hence the term keyframes,
which can also be referred to as i- or image-frames e.g. the first frame after a cut or when there
has been a large amount of change through movement between frames). However, for the frames
between keyframes, commonly referred to as p-frames, only the aspects of the image that have
changed (e.g. pixels whose colour value has shifted) are kept, the unchanged aspects/pixels being
made simply to refer back to the same colour value in the keyframe. The result of compression is
not that all of the original information sits hidden on the DVD, but that it is disconnected from it.1
In this sense, and against Mitchell, a DVD is typically not an improvement on the original
film, even if that film was shot digitally. Indeed, if we can argue that the cinephiles desire to see
films theatrically is in some ways an attempt to confer on to cinema an aura that Benjamin
considered already to be missing, then the digital file stored on a DVD has undergone an even
greater loss of aura, which is not to mention other, older big-to-small screen compression procedures such as pan-and-scanning. Incidentally, in an epoch when Film Studies could just as easily be
called DVD Studies, the study of compressed cinema that is the viewing of feature films on DVD
becomes the legitimisation of studying simulacra, since, if we allow the foregoing logic to stand, to
study DVDs is to study a less auratic version of a form that Benjamin already saw as involving a
loss of aura.
Be that as it may, we shall turn our attention now to those artworks that use the loss of data via
compression and corruption as a means of creativity and expression. To this end, we shall discuss
the practice of datamoshing and glitch art more generally, and we shall consider, after Mitchell,
what work this art form can do.
certain moments do recognisable shapes and figures emerge from what is otherwise a swirl of
colours. As Manovich goes on to argue, this emphasis on colours changing in time means that films
become structured less around actors, shots and the conventional vocabulary used to define narrative cinema; instead viewers of datamoshes, Monster Movie in particular, are presented with
colours from which emerge temporarily recognisable shapes that disperse as quickly as they arise.
Secondly, Miriam Hansen reminds us through a reference to Manovich that within cinema there
has been a shift in the relationship between animation and what she terms life-action (2004: 19):
the digital era sees live-action cinema emerge as a subset of animation, as opposed to the other way
round. Hansen then relates this shift to Benjamins interest in Mickey Mouse as a creature capable
of making us re-question the dividing line between self, technology and world. In terms that recall
Mitchells biocybernetic reproduction, Hansen says:
Benjamins Mickey Mouse points toward the general imbrication of physiological impulses with
cybernetic structures which, no longer limited to the imaginative domain of cyber-fiction, has become
common in science and medicine, architecture and design, and a host of other areas. (2004: 19)
Applying these ideas to Muratas film, it is apt that Monster Movie should not only make us question the anthropocentrism of most films by having its monstrous characters seemingly struggle and
only occasionally succeed to differentiate themselves from the colour(s) that surround them, but
the film also suggests that these monsters are inseparable from their background. That is, after
Hansen, the work that Monster Movie does is to suggest that the monsters it depicts are a part
or continuation of the ecology of the film frame, as opposed to being separate from it. The films
images are cybernetic structures, in that they are composed of digital code, but they have seeming
physiological impulses, too, as manifested by the emergence of the monsters from the soup of colour that surrounds them. It is not, then, that Hansen is describing datamoshing avant la lettre, but
her Benjaminian terms provide an apt framework for us to think about this phenomenon.
Thirdly, it is also apt that Murata chooses to use compressed images of monsters in his film,
because the datamosh, not being structured so overtly around character and action, lends itself
more to being understood as a spectacle of colour with little or no narrative. This in turn recalls the
early cinematic mode of production and exhibition defined as monstration by Andre Gaudreault
(1990). According to Gaudreault (inter alia), early films showed rather than told; that is, they were
a form of monstration structured around simply depicting movement. The pre1907 films that he
discusses were not made up of separate shots as narrative cinema came to be through the development of montage, but instead (predominantly) featured single shots, as might best be characterised by Louis and Auguste Lumie`res first films, including Larrivee dun train a` la Ciotat/
Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat (1896). Since the datamosh is not visibly made up of separate shots,
but instead of various changes in colour only gradually from which does a recognisable shape
emerge, then, so too, might monstration be a suitable framework through which to understand it,
not least because it shows colours punctuated by monstrous shapes, but also because using this
concept of monstration allows us to consider datamoshing within a longer history of audiovisual
media production and artistic practice.
(2008), which incorporates the artists own earlier animation work such as Octocat Adventure
(also 2008), and which involves a vertiginous onslaught of almost incomprehensible moshed
images (including words) that lend themselves also to the embodied experience that is moshing
at rock concerts.4
More recently, however, datamoshing has been incorporated into commercial music videos for
Kanye West and electro-pop group Chairlift. Directed by Ray Tintori, Chairlifts music video for
Evident Utensil (2009) uses datamoshing to create a psychedelic, mind-bending trip with the
members of the band, while the video for Kanye Wests Welcome to Heartbreak (also 2009)
involves a grittier take on the technique. The video, directed by Nabil Elderkin with contributions
from Ghost Town Media, involves West and contributing singer Kid Cudi melting into each other
as an otherwise photorealistic image becomes pixellated/moshed before reforming as another
photorealistic or nearly photorealistic image of the other singer.5 Given that the song is a (banal)
lament about the difficulties of being a multi-million dollar-earning rapper, the technique as used
in the video does lend itself to existential interpretations: as West melts into, becomes dominated
by and then re-emerges from the background colours that surround him, viewers might get a sense
of the difficulty that West has in asserting his individuality in the world, because this seems literally to be what we see as West is swallowed up by and intermittently emerges from the backdrop of
pixels around him.
Finally, datamoshing has also found its way into the mainstream film industry, although still
through the music video form, since the technique is used in the video to Linkin Parks song, New
Divide.6 New Divide is the title song from Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (Michael Bay,
2009), and the video features the band and the disguised robots from the film morphing into each
other in a now-familiar swirl of colour. Despite the vapidity of the film, again the technique here
seems appropriate in that the constant transformations that come about as a result of the datamoshing reflect the unsteady nature of the robots in the film, an unsteady nature that challenges the conventional notions of cinematic subjectivity as being fixed or stable, and which instead recall
Mitchells Benjamin-inspired biocybernetic age in which the dividing line between the machinic
and the living, between the organic and the inorganic, is being challenged. Furthermore, to borrow
a concept from Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari (1984), this datamosh (and perhaps the film more
generally) might suggest a subjectivity that constantly is in the process of becoming, to which we
shall return later, particularly as it relates to the concept of emergence.7
concept from early silent cinema, monstration, seems a more appropriate theoretical framework
through which to understand them.
Demanding as these works are of an unconventional reading, we shall also propose that, in
addition to the Benjaminian and film historical readings offered earlier (via Hansen and
Mitchell, and Gaudreault respectively), a Deleuze-Guattarian reading is also appropriate. As per
the earlier reference to becoming, the contents of datamoshes suggest the schizophrenic subjectivity that lies at the heart of Deleuze and Guattaris work on Capitalism and Schizphrenia
(1984, 2002). They argue that through our interactions with other people and objects (or the
assemblages with them that we co-constitute), we are constantly changing/becoming. As a
result, we do not have fixed subjectivities, nor are we reducible to a single essence, but instead
we are defined by complexity and plurality; in effect we are all of our relations, not one or some
of them more than any others. Since the characters or monsters in datamoshes are similarly
without a fixed subjectivity, instead being able at any moment to melt into or form an assemblage
with the background/another image, what Deleuze and Guattari would term a schizoanalytic
interpretation, whereby no one image or (part of the) frame is more accurate than the others,
seems most appropriate.
What the schizoanalytic approach in turn suggests is that the time of the datamosh is not a
linear time dominated by human action. If, within film studies at least, audiovisual media are
traditionally understood as involving a chronological temporality, the rhythm and tempo of which
is dominated by human action/movement (see, for example, Deleuzes Cinema 1: The MovementImage, 2005a), then it is not that human movement disappears from the datamosh, since we at
times do see human figures moving (for example, we see musicians performing). Rather, it is that
the human temporality comes into contact with a different temporality, that of the background
into which the humans and monsters melt and from which they subsequently emerge. If earlier,
after Mitchell and Hansen, we described this humanbackground relationship as an ecological
one, this is not because we are seeing humans interacting with nature when we watch a datamosh.
However, this relationship is ecological in the sense that we are seeing humans interact with/
assemble with, or from, pixels; that is, within the frame of the datamosh, the human and monstrous
figures have an ecological relationship/form an ecology/form a network with computers (for more
on such media ecologies, see Matthew Fuller, 2005). And the computer has its own temporality.
In a comparison of computer time and human time, Steve Goodman (2008: 256259)
explains that, after Henri Bergson (1944 [1911]), humans do not experience time in discrete units, a
conception that led Bergson so vehemently to attack the cinematograph for its breaking up of
duration into the units that are frames, but that the computer does. Indeed, if each moment in a
humans life passes from one into the other in a chronological fashion (but in such a way that we
cannot easily distinguish when one moment ends and another begins), the computer organises time
in such a way that different moments can be accessed not in a uniquely linear fashion, but in a
random manner, akin to a database (see Manovich, 2001: 219221). The datamosh sees these two
temporalities interpenetrate each other, not least as the human and the background seem to do
literally that. Datamoshing involves a rearrangement of the humancomputer assemblage as the
(digital) environment comes to the fore, engulfing and swallowing up those human (or, in Monster
Movie, monstrous) figures that typically we might think of as agents. Furthermore, this rearrangement takes place as the films dart back and forth between characters and perspectives in a
swirl of colours changing in time. As a result of this visual expression of two interpenetrating or
assembling temporalities, we feel tempted to argue that the datamosh constitutes, after Gilles
Deleuze (2005b), a sort of digital time image.
openness and it simply transposes the question from what is openness? to what is life?
Rather, what seems to differentiate the closed from the open system is time, the element that
Prigogine and Stengers feel must be rediscovered in order for physics to meet the challenge that
biology sets before it (1984: 213232). Time here is not simply clock time, but it is the differing
temporalities that are at the base of human perception and experience, and which lead Bergson to
his concepts of duration and creative evolution. In the spirit of Prigogine and Stengers, but
drawing also upon contemporary string theory, according to which the smallest particles of
which the universe is made, quanta, do not so much differentiate in kind but in the frequency with
which they oscillate (i.e. they differentiate according to their temporalities; see Greene, 2000),
everything can be said to have its own duration, its own temporality. From this perspective,
complexity, order out of chaos, or life, is what emerges from the interpenetration not of matter
itself, but of the differing temporalities, the differing tempos in which that matter oscillates. The
simultaneous coexistence of different temporalities, then, is what keeps a system open and which
allows for emergence to take place.
If everything has its own temporality, then complexity, or the emergence of order out of chaos,
which here we are also equating to life, does not apply simply to living organisms. Mackenzies
definition of transduction is here useful, in that the dissolution of the boundary between the living
and the non-living (2002: 173176) is necessary if we are fully to understand what it is that technology is and does. Mackenzie, like Mitchell with his theory of Benjaminian biocybernetic reproduction, sees the human/biological and the technological as inseparable, and life is what emerges
from the interaction between the two, not as something brought to the assemblage between them
by the biological alone. Given the foregoing discussion, particularly at the level of quanta, we
see the interpenetration of temporalities that are the conditions for life not as the interpenetration
of specifically biological and technological temporalities, but as the interpenetration of temporalities tout court.
With regard to datamoshing, it seems that we are confronted with a visual expression again of a
certain complexity theory. Digital images may undergo entropy when left alone (i.e. when in a
closed system, as per the Toy Story files), but this does not mean that they are not susceptible to
interventions here, on the part of an artist. What the artist does is to reappropriate the chaos of
the corrupted/compressed file and to turn it into an artwork, or what we shall argue here is a new
order. The same seems to happen visually in the films: from the digital soup and swirling colours
changing in time, patterns seem spontaneously to emerge, such that a new aesthetic meaning
occurs. In the same way that the process of order out of chaos seems in many respects to defy
common sense logic, which is predicated upon stability and an absence of change, so, too, do the
datamoshes visualise a non-common sense logic of changing subjectivity, swallowing up and
emergence, or what in short we shall call, after Manovich (2001) and Deleuze and Guattari
(1984) combined, colours becoming in time. What to some observers is an error or a thing of ugliness, precisely because it appears to be disordered, is to others a thing of beauty, a new type of
order that challenges and allows our conceptions of beauty to evolve.
Glitch art and datamoshing may both lie at the margins of computer science, art and filmmaking, but it is precisely on the margins or boundaries that an otherwise closed system is open to
and will first of all experience the effects of change, that is, the effects of the future, of time itself. It
may be here on the margins that the illogical predominates, but it is the mixing of the different/
illogical temporality of the margin with the logical temporality of the mainstream that enables
creativity, or evolution, to take place. In this sense, datamoshing as a practice is a necessary outlier
that belongs to a different temporality, perhaps what we can call the future. The entropy of digital
10
data may from a certain point of view be inevitable and irreversible (and cause for dismay/
pessimism), but from another perspective, it is an opportunity to redefine art, to create something
new, and, to reintroduce a word that has in this essay been problematised via Walter Benjamin,
and which we do not wish now to deproblematise, to create something original. Counterintuitive to many though this may seem, therefore, we put forward the notion that datamoshes
constitute a new type of time-image, one that will inevitably fade, but which for the time being
remains an image of the future in our present. They are, as argued at the outset of this essay, an
art form that deliberately embraces a loss of aura in order, paradoxically, to have, after Mitchell,
even more aura.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank their anonymous reviewer(s) for the excellent suggestions made in
improving this article.
Notes
1. To complicate matters further, it is unlikely that two monitors or web browsers in the case of online films
will reproduce colours exactly. In other words, it is very difficult if not impossible to assert with authority
that one can watch the original version of any film.
2. Monster Movie can be seen online at http://www.youtube.com/watch? vt1f3St51S9I (consulted 12
March 2010).
3. Download Finished! can be seen at http://www.download-finished.com/ (consulted March 2010).
4. Compression Reel can be viewed at http://www.vimeo.com/2564771, while OReillys website is at http://
www.davidoreilly.com/ (both consulted March 2010).
5. Welcome to Heartbreak can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch? vwMH0e8kIZtE (consulted
March 2010).
6. New Divide can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch? vysSxxIqKNN0 (consulted March
2010).
7. Of Wong Kar-Wais Ashes of Time (1994), Ackbar Abbas (2006: 86) writes that [t]hings have now been
speeded up to such an extent that what we find is only a composition of light and colour in which all
action has dissolved a kind of abstract expressionism or action painting. It is not possible, therefore,
to discern who is doing what to whom. What Abbas says of Wongs film may extend to a number of
contemporary films, particularly those using digital technology and whose style is defined by what
David Bordwell (2002, 2006: 117189) would term intensified continuity. That is, the datamosh being
colours changing in time makes clear a major practice taking place within digital and narrative filmmaking practice: namely that it, too, is no longer uniquely structured around human agents, but also colours
changing in time.
8. Digital Decay III can be viewed at http://rhizome.org/editorial/2115 (consulted March 2010).
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Biographies
William Brown is a lecturer in Film at Roehampton University, UK. He has published on digital technology
and cinema in the book Film Theory and Contemporary Hollywood Movies (Routledge, 2009), Animation: An
Interdisciplinary Journal, Studies in European Cinema and New Review of Film and Television Studies. He is
the author of Supercinema: Film Theory in the Digital Age (forthcoming).
Meetali Kutty is an independent scholar based in Delhi, India. Her research interests include Indian cinema
of the 2000s. She holds an MA in Film from the University of St Andrews, UK.