Mona Lisa's Smile

One of the things I found fascinating about one of this week's readings, Remediation by Bolter and Grusin, is that though it is much newer than some of our other texts it seemed - to me at least - singularly outdated.  The analysis and examination of virtual reality, a term I don't believe I have actually heard

since 1997, dated the text and made me question it's relevance in today's socially networked world. Of course the themes that Bolter and Grusin explore are evergreen in their nature. The ongoing cycle of re-interpreting, ie remediating older media onto new forms is timeless and especially relevant in the digital space. However I found their particular vehicle of analysis distracting. Interestingly I found the work of McLuhan, written some 50 years ago, prior even to the introduction of the personal computer, infinitely more relevant to discussions of emerging media. How interesting?  

The purpose of this post, however, is to explore the goal of remediation. If remediation could be said to have an overarching "goal" it would be to improve upon preceding media in some tangible way. Of course this is a grossly simplified definition that assumes a collective participation on the part of technological innovators worldwide. However, generally when new tech toys are sold to the public marketing claims never fail to tout how they improve upon prior technology. The smartphone improves upon the cell phone, which improved upon the wired phone, which improved upon the telegraph and so on.  Naturally the definition of "improvement" is highly subjective. However remediation in it's attempt to transcribe older media onto new forms often amounts to not much more than an attempt make  it better in some way. Consider for a moment the Mona Lisa.

I'm pretty sure this isn't what came to mind at the mention of Da Vinci's

seminal work. The talking Mona Lisa is an animated interactive piece currently

on display in Singapore's Alive Gallery. The goal of the Alive Gallery is

literally to bring historical works of art to life.  Viewers can actually

interact with the paintings and ask them questions and the paintings will

respond. Here are a few of the questions one can ask Mona Lisa:

Why don't you have any eyebrows?

Why is your smile so popular?

Where were you painted?

What is in the background?

All inquiries that if posed by anyone other than an eight year old talking to an animated object might be considered quite rude.  My question is: Is this an improvement or an abomination? I suppose it depends on whom you ask.  This particular gallery came up for discussion in a previous semester with about half of the class thinking it quite cool, and the other half ready to tar and feather the gallery owners. On the one hand I can see the appeal of making high art accessible to an audience that it has never reached before. However I do have serious concerns as to that audience's ability to appreciate the work if it literally has to be able to talk back to them first.

The traditionalist in me says that paintings aren't supposed to move or talk. (Also I can't help but picture Da Vinci spinning in his grave at what has been done to his work.) But is this interpretation completely lacking in value? Maybe. Maybe not. I can envision a youngster getting some knowledge out of being able to interact with a work of art, like gaining historical context, or learning about the artist. The problem, at least as I see it, comes in that exhibits like this also foster a disrespect for the aura of the work. A large part of the value of the piece lies in it's ambiguity. Who's to say that whomever programs Mona Lisa's response to the question about her smile has any idea why it's so popular? Or if she is even smiling? Art historians have been debating that for centuries. The answer to that particular question could never be anything more than a highly subjective interpretation. I doubt, however, that an audience of small children, will be sophisticated enough to make that distinction for themselves. Moreover, I wonder if in presenting talking works of art we are setting these kids on a path to a lifetime of disregard for the intrinsic value of the piece, and art itself. I'm not so sure that remediation worked here. Yes it did make the art interactive but at what cost? For me one thing is for certain, my kids (when I have them) will never have a conversation with Mona Lisa if I can help it.

Actors 2.0: Humanity in the Age of Digital Reproduction

"The stage actor identifies himself with the character of his role. The film actor is often denied this opportunity. His creation is by no means all of a piece; it is composed of many separate performances." (p.10)



The quote above pulled from this week's reading of "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" by Walter Benjamin immediately brought to mind the movie Avatar. Specifically I was reminded of the raw emotion evoked by the character Neytiri when she discovers Jake's duplicity, and indeed throughout the entire film. If, according to Benjamin, a stage actor identifies himself with the character of his role - an opportunity that is denied to the film actor - how does that interpretation change when the actor is digital?

All of the awards and accolades heaped upon the film Avatar had in common that the film presented a very realistic vision of a very make-believe world.  Certainly everyone I know raved about how "real" the characters and settings read on screen. That is quite a remarkable accomplishment given that the characters are 10 foot tall blue humanoid beings who have tails. And live in trees.  What struck me about the film, more even than the lush opulence of the cinematography, were the absolutely human performances of the digital actors.  When Neytiri rips into Jack for deceiving her and her dooming her people I knew exactly how she felt. The emotions evident in her facial expressions are exactly what a woman deceived and betrayed by her boyfriend - and whose betrayal threatens to wipe out her entire race - would feel.  The clip above shows a tiny bit of that scene and then goes on to explain how the filmmakers achieved such realistic effect. How did they do it? By very closely recording the actual facial expressions of the human actors. As Benjamin further elucidates, "Experts have long recognized that in the film 'the greatest effects are almost always obtained by 'acting' as little as possible...'" (p. 10)

In this example these digital actors (in the final theatrical presentation) are completely divorced from their human counterparts however to produce an authentic performance it became necessary to closely record and augment their humanity.  Applying Benjamin's model we see that the same rule applies. Though denied a live audience to react to, the film actor, even the digital one, still draws on the universal human experience to convey his performance.  I wonder if the same rule will apply when it becomes commonplace for films - not just kiddie movies - to use completely digitally rendered characters with no human actors ever involved in the process?