“Every Word Forms a Sentence”: A Response to the Keynote of the Pitt-Johnstown Day of Digital Humanities

It’s very true: every word does form a sentence.  However, when that word exists only as a stored pattern of ones and zeros bouncing amid the sparks of a wafer of doped silicon, does it really mean as much?  I suppose that is the profound question of the digital humanities.  Though it is true that it is not so much the printed word that holds meaning either, but the intrinsic emotive response created when a work imprints itself of the human essence.  If I had possessed any doubt of technology’s ability to replicate that sentiment, the reactions and emotions brought upon by the works of keynote speaker Alan Sondheim thoroughly expunged it.

In Sondheim’s own words, this was an exploration of “the nature of the virtual as a representation of the real.”  While it may not have been the most organized presentation, I can call it the most unique that I have ever attended.  Never before have I encountered such a combination of technology, culture, anguish, and twenty-first century buzzwords.

As a man of technology, Sondheim’s experience with motion capture technologies is impressive.  He and his team make use of complex hardware and software in manners that I doubt would ever be considered in a more practical circle.  What constitutes a body?  The warping of limbs based upon remapping of “virtual” nodes?  The synchronization of multiple motion capture recordings to a single model?  Even the collaboration of multiple physical participants to map the coordinated movement of a single avatar?  This I found most interesting, with what nearly constituted a“hive-mind,” as Sondheim called it, being engaged in an act of human cooperation for a solely virtual accomplishment.  “It’s like they’re reaching out to each other,” Sondheim’s garbled recording muses, but I see nothing in the binary to indicate that being the case.

As a man of edgespace and gamespace, Sondheim’s interest and work within collapsing digital realities was, to me, profound.  The humanities of virtual realities such as videogames is a big interest of mine, but Sondheim’s focuses are far from the script.  I have experience playing in borders and edgespaces, even in my youth, which further provoked my interest into his explorations.  As a computer engineering student with interests in the realms of artificial intelligence, these developments also pose a soon non-rhetorical question about the meaning of human control of the digital realm.  The only truly visceral reaction I have yet had to Sondheim’s presented works was my response to the uncontrolled collapse.  Not an experiment, beyond the realm of human control, the sound of, for lack of a better word, death, as the simulation collapsed and the program terminated.  This created a surprising emotion in me.  I ask myself whether or not this emotion was valid, but I suppose it is interesting enough to recognize its existence.  When an avatar, a construct, a non-playable character, or even a representation of yourself ceases to digitally exist, is there any relevance?  Did it exist in the first place?

As a man of culture, Sondheim finds true fulfillment of his art.  His work to convey anguish, terror, and violence, as well as his comments on the surge and annihilation to the limit were eye-opening.  The digital works presented conveyed the emotion surprisingly well.  It is extremely interesting to consider the emotional ramifications of critically human themes expressed in a binary form; the greys of our culture expressed in the pure black and white of one and zero, everything and nothing.  Sondheim’s reactions to the chaos through his unique art were an interesting perspective.  It brought with it questions of worldview, perspective, and purpose.  One of Sondheim’s final remarks was the question of our response.  “What do you do about it?” he postulated.  “I have no answer...in that regard all of my work is a failure.”  I would argue much to the contrary, Mr. Sondheim.  You have confronted issues, posed questions, and brought depth of perception to matter of great struggle.  In some ways, I suppose this is all anyone can hope to do.

Creating these perceptions through solely digital means was most remarkable.  The emotions conveyed through the medium were well perceived.  This is a fantastic use of digital humanities that does not shy away from difficult themes.  Works from motion capture to manifestations of human nature unify aspects of flesh and code.  As the keynote to Pitt-Johnstown’s Day of Digital Humanities, it served to the highest degree as a representation of what this discipline is capable of.  

At the conclusion of Alan Sondheim’s presentation, I could not help but walk to the front and shake the gentleman’s hand.  I do not know why,  I certainly did not understand the crux of what I had just seen, but, in a manner I cannot wholly explain, I wanted to.  I have worked with computers from a young age, and I am used to the possession of a certain level of understanding when dealing with them.  This is the first in quite some time that I have faced a certain level of mysticism where the reactions to a digital medium left me with echoes of the human condition.  The whole was much grander than the sum of its parts.