Michael Hammel
University of Copenhagen

Towards a Yet Newer Laocoon. Or, What We Can Learn From Interacting With Computer Games

Keywords: computer games, interactive computer art

Working with interactive art makes it clear that something has happened to one of the basic rules of an art museum: the rule that keeps artworks being art or, at least, artefacts (Fig. 1). At first, this rule might look as if imposed to ensure a long life of the artefacts, but it also prevents the artworks from becoming things.

Fig. 1. "We are the relics of your culture. Please Do Not Touch". The Museum of the Palace of Jodhpur, India. © Photo: Michael Hammel, 1998

The User

If you do not touch an interactive artwork, you will have no experience of it, but if you do, you might get more than you bargained for. By touching the artwork you fall through a magic trapdoor and become a tactile user connected to the interface and mentally absorbed in the depths of the visual environment. As a user you become involved. You might even become addicted and live in your own world isolated from other people.

Fig. 2. The User and the Critic. © Michael Hammel, 2001

The Critic

The story goes that the great modernist critic, Clement Greenberg had a rather special ritual when looking at new artwork. He would stand in a darkened room with his eyes closed, turning his back to assistants hanging a picture on the wall and adjusting the light. When ready, Greenberg would turn around, saying "hit me!".

His many enemies might have made up the story in order to ridicule him. What Greenberg was looking for was the flash of instantaneous visual experience: the naked, unspoiled sensation. He sought to highlight the painting's painterly effects at the cost of its narrative which he believed should be banned in painting. But what the flash also did was to prevent a story from evolving around the painting and engage Greenberg. Since the painting came as an expected surprise, he did not move physically closer to it and remained fully detached. He thus avoided an even greater danger that the painting might attract his attention, in which case he would no longer be disinterested, detached as demanded of a Kantian aesthete. Interactive art puts an end to the supposed detachment, and emphasises the reception of the work. The myth, however, is hard to kill. This is why I decided to turn to computer games, because computer games are not art.

Computer games are dangerous!

The usual concern voiced over computer games is that young people spend too much time in front of the monitor shooting at anything that moves, or playing secret agents in cyberspace. They get used to surreal environments and illogical behaviour. They should, instead, play hide-and-seek in the park outside, in the real reality but they find coping with this reality difficult.

There is, arguably, a lot to learn from playing games. This is not, of course, a new insight into sociologically oriented studies, where notable scholars such as Johan Huizinga (1938), Victor Turner (1982) and Erving Goffman (1967) studied the different modes of play and social interaction within culture as a means of learning the rules that govern society. You learn to handle the game actions, solve the puzzles and survive. Hence you learn to live by the rules of the game. You are the player, embedded in the game and responsible for the action - at least for your protagonist's actions and for not getting killed or thrown out of the game.

Such games as Doom and Myst engage the player in the visual display through sound and visual effects, but mainly by employing the "famed" first person camera view, i.e. central perspective (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. Screen dump from Doom II. © ID Soft, 1995-

'Cinematic' games, also known as third person or 3D games, such as Tomb Raider which brought Lara Croft to fame, employ changing viewpoints, a method that appeals to the more 'cinematic' players (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4. Screen dump from Tomb Raider 3, 1999 © Eidos Interactive Ltd., 1996-

The sexy curves of Lara Croft may appeal to the male eye, but you do not have time to sit back and enjoy them whilst you are playing. Boiling down the experience of playing computer games to one central aspect, such as the addiction to the game, you may ask what makes people play the same game over and over again. The reasons lie not in the attractive looks of the protagonist, but in the prospect of mastering the tasks in the game; the constant problem solving: how to get through, how to do what, and how to be better, becoming eventually a master of the game. This is the most important for the player, but this is just one part of the story.

'Interactmen'

The sound in computer games is generally described as 'blaring'. It is meant to focus the player's attention on the game by drowning the outside. But it also contains more subtle effects, such as warning the player of opponents outside his field of vision, by indicating their position with sounds. A 'fix-sound' can be used to give the player a sense of direction by changing level and direction according to the protagonist's position within the game world. The sound represents a bond between the player and the character. Special artefacts may make a jingle sound when you get closer to them and to confirm an action.

As far as the graphics of the computer game are concerned, you will notice that some artefacts are highlighted or display an aureole when you move 'your hand' (the cursor) towards them. This effect makes some artefacts special and others, which do not get highlighted, less important. Other minor changes occur in the graphics in reaction to your cursor/hand. I call these minor, but detectable changes in the appearance of objects (you will also find them in 'mouse-over' events on the web) 'interactmen': the smallest unit of interactive language. They could also be called interactive widgets. They can be considered as micro narratives or signs that announce a possibly greater narrative triggered by your reactions to the received impulse while you follow the path it promises.

Other impulses may be received through the joystick. You can, for example, 'feel' through the vibration of the joystick when your protagonist is exposed to a beating. This gives you the impression that the game involves not only the characters on the screen, but also yourself. When playing games, I can feel how this sensation prompts me to 'give back'.

Experience of Interaction

Playing computer games is synonymous with experiencing the present moment and this is conveyed through constant action and responses. There are three different modes of interaction while playing games:

• reaction: where your action is minimal (for example, the web);
• interaction: where you take part in some of the action (for example, Doom);
  and
• symbioaction: where you cannot differenciate between your own work and that of the machine, as in virtual reality science-fiction (NB multi-player gives the same illusion).

If and when you interact, you interact with the whole of the work and the navigation is part of the content. This is different from the traditional conceptualisation of user interface design. The stories that you tell others about your experience of the game world are also important. When you give your account of the game and compare your experience with those of the others, you get a better knowledge of the game. These narratives can only be understood in the context of the situation in which the interaction takes place.

Having described some of the main issues in the design of the computer games, I will now look at an interactive artwork.

Smiles in Motion

Smiles in Motion is a work made in 2000 by the Danish artists Kjell Yngve Petersen and Karin Sørensen, both members of the group Boxiganga (Fig. 5).

Fig. 5. Boxiganga: Smiles in Motion, 2000. Exhibited in the "Kropsmaskinen", Museet for Samtidskunst, Roskilde. Photo © Kjell Yngve Petersen.

The work consists of two chairs connected through a computer. In order to experience this work you need a partner or assistant. You sit in a surprisingly comfortable chair, wearing a 'helmet'. The helmet contains a small monitor, video camera and a microphone. The monitor takes up the whole of your field of vision and displays the image of your partner's lips. All you see are huge, moving lips.

When you start to speak you see your lips on the screen. When your partner speaks your chair starts vibrating and you see the image of your partner's moving lips. Then you speak again; the louder you speak the more your partner's chair vibrates. Your partner tries to outdo your voice by talking even louder. This way the vibration fluctuates back and forth in an escalating pattern. No word comes through to your ear. All you hear is a deep, growling sound coming from the bottom of the chairs and causing vibrations. The sound is transformed into vibrations that you feel with your body.

As one participant takes the lead over the other, the image of the lips on the monitor changes accordingly. It flickers back and forth between the image of your mouth and that of your companion. When the image of your lips disappears this gives you incentive to speak on, but the increasing vibration urges you to change the polarity again. This is similar to handling a joystick in computer games: it drives you subconsciously towards constant action.

I tried the chairs with different people and the experience was different every time. An artist told me that the best experience of the interaction he had was with an intimate friend, when they had experienced intimacy in a whole new, sensual and fascinating way.

During a public display of the chairs different people tried the experience. One of them was a woman whom I did not know. She did not like it at all. When her chair started to vibrate she jumped out and could not be persuaded to give it another try. The connotations of the vibration may be obtrusive and almost shocking to the unprepared user. She was an art critic on assignment from a Danish daily. Her review of the exhibition was not too good. She liked the web-based works best.

This case shows that in order to explore an interactive artwork you have to accept the challenge and get to know the work; find inspiration in the feelings it generates and create the stories around your experience.

The Name of the Game

I find many similarities between such artworks as Smiles in Motion and computer games. They are:

• based on the user's cooperation with the creator's idea;
• dynamic - what you do is (mostly) rewarded;
• physical experiences, calling for your tactile reception;
• multi-sensorial;
• tasks;
• challenges to the user, or may take over the user;
• The user must follow the rules laid down by the creator;
• The user creates a meta-narrative - a wit path in the confines of the work;
• The user must spend time familiarising himself with the work before he can express any opinion about the work; by then he is already involved and this involvement is part of the game.

Both the artwork and the game are concerned with 'the what' and 'the how': how the path is created, how you - as the user - experience the participation, what you do, what makes you do it, and who controls the situation.

In Danish and German there are two different words to describe your experience of doing something (Erfahrung) and your personal experience while performing the task (Erlebnis). Generally, Erfahrung keeps you from damage and Erlebnis is the enjoyment or excitement you feel when exposed to the risk in an active situation. The female art critic went through the experience with the chair but was unable to enjoy this interactive artwork, while others may have been more open to the experience. In contrast to the traditional arts, the player's experience is strictly personal and generally cannot be verified. It depends on the actual viewing and interacting with the artwork. So, goodbye Mr. Detached Critic and hello Mr. Absorbed User!

But what happened to the way we look at art?

The traditional hermeneutic position is that the viewer decodes the hidden narrative in the artwork. In order to do so, the viewer should have some circumstantial knowledge of the artwork; its meaning may be immanent and waiting for the viewer to find the key to the story.

The reader's response is an opposite and extreme post-structuralist position, where the work is an empty sign and the viewer composes his story of the artwork through the actual viewing; the meaning rests solely in the viewer's mind.

A third position, much ignored by art critics and art historians, is also possible. This position puts the viewer's experience in the context of the artwork. When you make your path through the maze of an artwork (on the web) you might be the only one to choose that path. Your experience will be unique and based on your personal choices and interests. So the position of the Kantian aesthete is no longer valid: you cause the work and co-produce it with the artist(s); and when artificial intelligence is involved, the artwork becomes autonomous.

"Here's looking at you, kid"

My suggestion, therefore, is that you include yourself and the circumstances for the viewing situation in your description of the artwork. Tell the story of 'the how' and 'the what' of your encounter. As the artwork becomes increasingly complex - and might become artificially intelligent - there will be no truth beyond your description. It is important that you are "in the story". This has, rather successfully, been made one of the main methods of ethnography and social anthropology, and seems to be the only way to discuss artworks that are explored through physical and quasi-social interactions.

When you travel to exotic countries with strange customs and obscure rituals, you cannot exclude yourself from the story. It is you, and your curiosity, that is the driving force of the encounter. This must be considered as the methodological foundation for the study of interactive art. From there on you can go where the action is, participate and bring knowledge of your interaction to the understanding of the artwork.

Visual narratives

What we are looking at in interactive artwork is the evolving visual narrative that includes the user's actions. This results in a new and unique, personal narrative created by the co-operation between the user and the creator of the artwork. Thus, the artwork becomes co-created by the user and the artist. We should also look at the structure and the role, which the user is supposed to play in order to get an idea of the creator's aims. The artwork consists, after all, of rules laid out by the artist for the player/user to follow. If the user/player fails to obey to the rules he is thrown out of the game.

I hope I have made clear that with interactive artwork we must look at how the work tells its story by demanding a specific action from the users. This demand is embedded in the story created by the player in order to bring meaning to the action. The newer Laocoon opposes Greenberg's purism of the narrative or poetry (1940) and is, therefore, closer to Lessing's vision of the different arts seen as "good neighbours" (Lessing 1959 [1766]: 259f). I stress the importance of looking at the way viewers and players are included in the narrative of the artwork, as well as the narratives created in the minds of the players and users by interacting with the artwork.

In conclusion, we are all users, subjects in the world led by our interests. Even when we want to be professional, we create a story. In interactive art this narrative becomes more important and more evident than ever before. By looking at the narratives you look at the ideology of the interaction with a particular artwork. Every story includes a predefined user - yourself.

Literature

Fried, M. (June 1967), "Art and Objecthood", Artforum.

Greenberg, C. (1940), "Towards a Newer Laocoon", The Partisan Review, 7. 4, pp. 296-310.

Lessing, G. E. [1766] (1959): Laokoon. Oder, Über die Grenzen der Malerei und der Poesie. Stolpe (ed.), Lessings Werke, 3, Weimar: Volksverlag, pp. 163-332. Engl. ed. (n.d.): The Laocoon, and other Prose Writings of Lessing. Transl. and ed. by W. B. Ronnfeldt, Walter Scott Ltd.

Goffman, E. (1967): Interaction Ritual. New York, NY.

Huizinga, J. [1938] (1944): Homo Ludens. A Study of the Play-Element in Culture. Translated by R. F. C. Hull, Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd.

Turner, V. (1982), From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play. New York, NY: PAJ Publications

November 2001