I first spoke to the patient in the last week of that August. That evening the
sun was tender in drawing its shadows across the lines of his face. The eyes
gazed softly into a close middle distance, as if composing a line upon a
translucent page hung in the middle of the air, the hands tapping out a stanza
or two of music on legs covered by the brown folds of a towelling dressing
gown. He had the air of someone who had seen something of great amazement but
yet lacked the means to put it into language. As I got to know the patient
over the next few weeks I learned that this was not for the want of effort.
In his youth he had dabbled with the world-speak language Volapük, one
designed to do away with the incompatibility of tongues, to establish a
standard in which scientific intercourse might be conducted with maximum
efficiency and with minimal friction in movement between minds, laboratories
and publications. Latin biological names, the magnificent table of elements,
metric units of measurement, the nomenclature of celestial objects from clouds
to planets, anatomical parts and medical conditions all had their own systems
of naming beyond any specific tongue. This was an attempt to bring reason into
speech and record, but there were other means to do so when reality resisted
these early measures.
The dabbling, he reflected, had become a little more than that. He had
subscribed to journals in the language, he wrote letters to colleagues and
received them in return. A few words of world-speak remained readily on his
tongue, words that he spat out regularly into the yellow-wallpapered lounge of
the sanatorium with a disgust that was lugubriously palpable.
According to my records, and in piecing together the notes of previous
doctors, there was something else however, something more profound that the
language only hinted at. Just as the postal system did not require the
adoption of any language in particular but had its formats that integrated
them into addressee, address line, postal town and country, something that
organised the span of the earth, so there was a sense of the patient as having
sustained an encounter with a fundamental form of organisation that mapped out
his soul. More thrilling than the question of language indeed was that of the
system of organisation upon which linguistic symbols are inscribed. I present
for the reader’s contemplation some statements typical of those he seemed to
mull over.
“The index card system spoke to my soul. Suffice it to say that in its use I
enjoyed the highest form of spiritual pleasure, and organisational efficiency,
a profound flowering of intellect in which every thought moved between its
enunciation, evidence, reference and articulation in a mellifluous flow of
ideation and the gratification of curiosity.” This sense of the soul as a
roving enquiry moving across eras, across forms of knowledge and through the
serried landscapes of the vast planet and cosmos was returned to over and
over, a sense that an inexplicable force was within him yet always escaping
his touch.
“At every reference stood another reference, each more interesting than the
last. Each the apex of a pyramid of further reading, pregnant with the threat
of digression, each a thin high wire which, if not observed might lead the
author into the fall of error, a finding already found against and written
up.” He mentions too, a number of times, the way the furniture seemed to
assist his thoughts - the ease of reference implied by the way in which the
desk aligned with the text resting upon the pages of the off-print, journal,
newspaper, blueprint or book above which further drawers of cards stood ready
in their cabinet. All were integrated into the system. And yet, amidst these
frenetic recollections there was a note of mourning in his contemplative
moods, “The superposition of all planes of enquiry and of thought in one
system repels those for whom such harmonious speed is suspicious.” This
thought was delivered with a stare that was not exactly one of accusation, but
that lingered with the impression that there was a further statement to follow
it, and another, queued up ready to follow.
As I gained the trust of the patient, there was a sense in which he estimated
me as something of a junior collaborator, a clerk to his natural role as
manager. A lucky, if slightly doubtful, young man whom he might mentor into
efficiency and a state of full access to information. For his world, there was
not the corruption and tiredness of the old methods. Ideas moved faster in his
mind than they might now across the world. To possess a register of thoughts
covering a period of some years is to have an asset, the value of which is
almost incalculable. That it can answer any question respecting any thought
about which one has had an enquiry is but the smallest of its merits. More
important is the fact that it continually calls attention to matters requiring
such attention.
Much of his discourse was about the optimum means of arrangement of the
system, there was an art to laying out the cards. As the patient further
explained, to meet the objection that loose cards may easily be mislaid, cards
may be tabbed with numbers from one to ten. When arranged in the drawer, these
tabs proceed from left to right across the drawer and the absence of a single
card can thus easily be detected. The cards are further arranged between
coloured guide cards. As an alternative to tabbed cards, signal flags may be
used. Here, metal clips may be attached to the top end of the card and that
stand out like guides. For use of the system in relation to dates of the
month, the card is printed with the numbers 1 to 31 at the top. The metal clip
is placed as a signal to indicate the card is to receive attention on the
specified day. Within a large organisation a further card can be drawn up to
assign responsibility for processing that date’s cards. There were numerous
means of working the cards, special techniques for integrating them into any
type of research or organisation, means by which indexes operating on indexes
could open mines of information and expand the knowledge and capabilities of
mankind.
As he pressed me further, I began to experiment with such methods myself by
withdrawing data from the sanatorium’s records and transferring it to cards in
the night. The advantages of the system are overwhelming. Cards, cut to the
right mathematical degree of accuracy, arrayed readily in drawers, set in
cabinets of standard sizes that may be added to at ease, may be apportioned
out amongst any number of enquirers, all of whom may work on them
independently and simultaneously. The bound book, by contrast, may only be
used by one person at a time and that must stay upon a shelf itself referred
to by an index card system. I began to set up a structure of rows of mirrors
on chains and pulleys and a set of levered and hinged mechanical arms to allow
me to open the drawers and to privately consult my files from any location
within the sanatorium. The clarity of the image is however so far too much
effaced by the diffusion of light across the system.
It must further be borne in mind that a system thus capable of indefinite
expansion obviates the necessity for hampering a researcher with furniture or
appliances of a larger size than are immediately required. The continuous and
orderly sequence of the cards may be extended further into the domain of
furniture and to the conduct of business and daily life. Reasoning, reference
and the order of ideas emerging as they embrace and articulate a chaotic world
and then communicate amongst themselves turning the world in turn into
something resembling the process of thought in an endless process of
consulting, rephrasing, adding and sorting.
For the patient, ideas flowed like a force of life, oblivious to any unnatural
limitation. Thought became, with the proper use of the system, part of the
stream of life itself. Thought moved through the cards not simply at the
superficial level of the movement of fingers and the mechanical sliding and
bunching of cards, but at the most profound depths of the movement between
reality and our ideas of it. The organisational grace to be found in
arrangement, classification and indexing still stirred the remnants of his
nervous system until the last day.
Goldsmith
If We Had To Ask for Permission We Wouldnt Exist: An Open Letter to the Frameworks Community
2010
To the Frameworks Community,
I have been reading your thread on UbuWeb's hacking on the list with great
interest. It seems that with a few exceptions, the list is generally positive
(with reservations) about Ubu, something that makes me happy. Ubu is a friend,
not a foe.
A few things: first of all, Ubu doesn't touch money. We don't make a cent. We
don't accept grants or donations. Nor do we -- or shall we ever -- sell
anything on the site. No one makes a salary here and the work is all done
voluntarily (more love hours than can ever be repaid). Our bandwidth and
server space is donated by universities.
We know that UbuWeb is not very good. In terms of films, the selection is
random and the quality is often poor. The accompanying text to the films can
be crummy, mostly poached from whatever is available around the net. So are
the films: they are mostly grabbed from private closed file-sharing
communities and made available for the public, hence the often lousy quality
of the films. It could be done much better.
Yet, in terms of how we've gone about building the archive, if we had to ask
for permission, we wouldn't exist. Because we have no money, we don't ask
permission. Asking permission always involves paperwork and negotiations,
lawyers, and bank accounts. Yuk. But by doing things the wrong way, we've been
able to pretty much overnight build an archive that's made publically
accessible for free of charge to anyone. And that in turn has attracted a
great number of film and video makers to want to contribute their works to the
archive legitimately. The fastest growing part of Ubu's film section is by
younger and living artists who want to be a part of Ubu. But if you want your
works off Ubu, we never question it and remove it immediately; it's your work
after all. We will try to convince you otherwise, but we will never leave
anything there that an artist or copyright holder wants removed.
Ubu presents orphaned and out-of-print works. Sometimes we had inadvertently
host works that are in print and commercially available for a reasonable
price. While this is strictly against our policy, it happens. (With an army of
interns and students and myself the only one in charge, it's sometimes hard to
keep the whole thing together.) Then someone tells us that we're doing it and
we take it down immediately and apologize. Ouch. The last thing Ubu wants to
do is to harm those who are trying to legitimately sell works. For this
reason, we don't host, for example, any films by Brakhage: they're in print
and affordable for anyone who wants them on DVD or through Netflix. Fantastic.
[The "wall of shame" was a stupid, juvenile move and we removed a few years
ago it when we heard from Joel Bachar that it was hurtful to the community.]
Some of the list members suggested that we work with distributors. That's
exactly what's starting to happen. Last winter, Ubu had a meeting with EAI and
VDB to explore ways that we could move forward together. We need each other.
EAI sent a list of artists who were uncomfortable with their films being
represented on Ubu. We responded by removing them. But others, such as Leslie
Thornton and Peggy Ahwesh insisted that their oeuvres be on Ubu as well as on
EAI. [You can see Leslie Thorton's Ubu page
here](http://ubu.com/film/thornton.html) (all permissioned).
Likewise, a younger generation is starting to see that works must take a
variety of forms and distributive methods, which happen at the same time
without cancelling each other out. The young, prominent video artist Ryan
Trecartin has all his work on Ubu, hi-res copies are distributed by EAI, The
Elizabeth Dee Gallery represent his work (and sells his videos there), while
showing in museums around the world. Clearly Ryan's career hasn't been hurt by
this approach. [You can see his Ryan Trecartin's Ubu page
here](http://ubu.com/film/trecartin.html) (all permissioned).
Older filmmakers and their estates have taken a variety of approaches.
[Michael Snow](http://ubu.com/film/snow.html) contacted Ubu to say that he was
pleased to have some of his films on Ubu, while he felt that others should be
removed. Of course we accommodated him. Having two permissioned films from
Michael Snow beats hosting ten without his blessing. We considered it a
victory. In another case, the children of [Stan
VanDerBeek](http://ubu.com/film/vanderbeek.html) contacted Ubu requesting that
we host their father's films. Re:Voir was upset by this, saying that we were
robbing his children of their royalties when they in fact had given the films
to us. We put a link to purchase DVDs from Re:Voir, regardless. We think
Re:Voir serves a crucial function: Many people prefer their beautiful physical
objects and hi-res DVDs to our pile of pixels. The point is that there is much
(understandable) suspicion and miscommunication. And I'll be the first to
admit that, on a community level, I've remained aloof and distant, and the
cause of much of that alienation. For this, I apologize.
In terms of sales and rentals ("Ubu is bad for business"), you'd know better
than me. But when [Peter Gidal](http://ubu.com/film/gidal.html) approached Ubu
and requested that his films be included in our archive, we were thrilled to
host a number of them. I met Peter in NYC a few months ago and asked him what
the effect of having his films on Ubu had been. He said, in terms of sales and
rentals, it was exactly the same, but in terms of interest, he felt there was
a big uptick from students and scholars by virtue of being able to see and
study that which was unavailable before. Ubu is used mostly by students and in
the classroom. Sadly, as many of you have noted, academic budgets don't
generally provide for adequate rental or projection money. I know this
firsthand: my wife, the video artist [Cheryl
Donegan](http://ubu.com/film/donegan.html) \-- who teaches video at two
prominent East Coast institutions -- is given approximately $200 per semester
(if that) for rentals. Good luck.
This summer, Ubu did a [show at the Walter Reade
Theater](http://www.filmlinc.com/wrt/onsale/fcssummer/ubuweb.html) at Lincoln
Center in NYC. I insisted that we show AVIs and MP4s from the site on their
giant screen. They looked horrible. But that was the point. I wanted to prove
the value of high-resolution DVDs and real film prints. I wanted to validate
the existence of distributors who make these types of copies available. Ubu's
crummy files are a substitute, a thumbnail for the real thing: sitting in a
dark from with like-minded, warm bodies watching an enormous projection in a
room with a great sound system. Cinema, as you know too well, is a social
experience; Ubu pales by comparison. It will never be a substitute. But sadly,
for many -- unable to live near the urban centers where such fare is shown,
trapped by economics, geography, career, circumstance, health, family, etc. --
Ubu is the only lifeline to this kind of work. As such, we believe that we do
more good in the world than harm.
An ideal situation happened when UbuWeb was asked to participate in a
[show](http://www.cca.qc.ca/en/intermission) at the CCA in Montreal. The CCA
insisted on showing hi-res films, which they rented from distributors of
materials that Ubu hosts. We were thrilled. By having these materials
available to be seen on Ubu, it led to rental fees for the artists and income
for the distributors. It was a win-win situation. This Ubu working at its
best.
Finally, I don't really think it's good for me to join the list. I'm not well-
enough versed in your world to keep up with the high level of conversation
going on there. Nor do I wish to get into a pissing match. However, I can be
contacted [here](http://ubu.com/contact) and am happy to respond.
It think that, in the end, Ubu is a provocation to your community to go ahead
and do it right, do it better, to render Ubu obsolete. Why should there only
be one UbuWeb? You have the tools, the resources, the artwork and the
knowledge base to do it so much better than I'm doing it. I fell into this as
Ubu has grown organically (we do it because we can) and am clearly not the
best person to be representing experimental cinema. Ubu would love you to step
in and help make it better. Or, better yet, put us out of business by doing it
correctly, the way it should have been done in the first place.