@ Gli.tc/h, we spoke of databending as a transgression, as a statement, as an act of disobedience, as an expression of inquisitiveness. We engaged this work with our minds and with our perceptive understanding, but what of our hearts? Now, I will pull out a card that I rarely use, as it makes me somewhat ill – the spiritual. If glitch work were to have a soul, would it not be that of a cyborgian elegy. One where we produce work to understand and explain the future of our failing data. One where we can only half understand the entropic nature of what we have created. Only half, as the other half lies somewhere beyond the protocological – malformed, yet interesting, and still out of reach. Do we not approximate glitches because they allow us some modicum of control over the inevitable? Are there not parallels between the failure of systemic data and the failure of our own bodies. As Andrea Barry writes of elegy,’ The rite of passage does not only affect the dying – it also unfolds gradually for the bereaved, who are distinct in grief, take on mourning vestments and mourning attitudes, and eventually reintegrate with the community. Rituals punctuate the time it takes them to grieve.’ (Brady, 1). I believe glitch-art to be the mourning vestments of the cyborg. It is the way by which we might recognize the upcoming entropy. Where we can touch it safely, before we are claimed.
::::: More to come.