portfolio

Carrión's assertion that each work of mail art "Mail Art knocks at the door of the castle where the Big Monster lives" really got my attention. He seems to be suggesting that the work only comes to life when it encounters obstacles like bureaucracy, delays, and stamps. It's as if friction is a natural element of the medium. That raises the question of whether the system's errors, such as misplaced letters, incorrect addresses, and delayed deliveries, could be seen as a component of the artwork itself. In this sense, the Monster is a quiet partner rather than only a barrier.

• Does the artist share authorship with the postal system if errors in delivery influence the meaning of mail art?
• Does the distinction between deliberate production and chance become hazy if the postal system's errors and delays are incorporated into the artwork?

Schwulst's metaphors for websites as living spaces, like gardens, puddles, or shelves, really caught my attention since they give the internet a more intimate and less abstract sense. A website is reframed as a process rather than a final result when it is viewed as incomplete and flawed. Edouard U's concept of creating "knowledge networks" also caught my attention because it implies that connections, not isolation, are how meaning is developed. Both authors seem to agree that, like any living place, the internet should be carefully cultivated when used mindfully.

• If websites are "living spaces" that change over time, how should we rethink the idea of permanence and preservation on the web?
• Edouard U promotes "surfing not searching" as a way of forming knowledge. Could this approach help us resist algorithm-driven browsing on platforms like Instagram or TikTok?

Lialina describes Geocities not just as a space of bad taste and amateur web design, but also as a rich cultural archive that reveals how people experimented with online self-expression. What struck me was how the ruins of Geocities sites, like missing images, broken links, and “under construction” banners, become historical traces. Instead of dismissing these artifacts as outdated, she frames them as part of a folklore that shaped our understanding of the early web. It makes me wonder whether today’s TikTok trends or Instagram aesthetics will one day be seen as ruins worth preserving.

• What do you think is lost when digital platforms clean up user design in favor of professional standard templates?
• Could broken or unfinished websites have the same cultural value as preserved ones, or does their unfinishedness make them less meaningful?

Ludovico and Cramer argue that the divide between print and digital isn’t absolute, but it produces hybrid forms that carry the strengths of both. I was really interested in how DIY zine culture and crowdfunding show print as a physical counterpoint to the neverending connectivity of digital publishing. At the same time, digital media reshapes what print can do, either through QR codes, remix culture, or networked distribution. Their vision of post-digital print suggests that publishing is less about choosing one medium over another and more about how the two overlap to create new cultural possibilities.

• Do hybrid projects like zines with QR codes or computer-generated books expand the possibilities of print, or do they risk lessening its unique qualities?
• How might the politics of ownership and sharing change when publishing shifts from traditional print to hybrid, networked forms?

Coklyat and Finnegan's Alt-Text as a Poetry Workbook reframes accessibility as a creative practice rather than a technical afterthought. By treating alt-text as a form of translation and poetry, the authors highlight how descriptive language can both convey and transform meaning, requiring attention and empathy. Their argument that alt-text involves creative decision-making invites writers to consider their audience and positionality in the act of description. I found the idea that accessibility can itself be an art form compelling, because it emphasizes how inclusive design benefits both creators and users by expanding the interpretive space of visual media.

• How does viewing alt-text as a poetic or creative act change the way we approach accessibility in digital media and design?
• If alt-text always involves creative decisions, can it ever truly be "objective," and should that even be the goal?

Nasser's essay exposes how computing, even when presented as universal, is deeply shaped by the English language and Western culture. His story about creating an Arabic programming language (Qalb) shows how the technical world often excludes non-English speakers, both in design tools and deeper coding systems. I found it shocking how something as simple as language could become such a powerful barrier, turning what seems like a neutral field into one built around cultural assumptions. The essay made me question whether true digital inclusivity is possible if programming itself depends on English words and frameworks.

• Why does Nasser see programming as culturally biased instead of purely technical?
• Do you think it's possible to make programming languages that work equally well for speakers of all languages?

Reinfurt explains how Gestalt theory connects to design by showing how people naturally find patterns and relationships in what they see. He argues that good design works with how the brain organizes shapes, colors, and space, instead of fighting against it. I thought it was interesting how this makes design more about perception than decoration; it's about helping the viewer see clearly. The reading made me realize that every design decision, even spacing or alignment, affects how people understand what they're looking at.

• How does Gestalt theory help designers make their work easier to understand?
• What are some examples of Gestalt ideas that we see in everyday design?

Duvall discusses how design has shifted from modernism's order and clarity to postmodernism's chaos and now to "hypermodernism," where meaning constantly multiplies and connects through digital media. He explains how signs and surfaces in design have become endless and layered, especially online, turning everything into a web of linked meanings. I found his idea that graphic design now functions like the "architecture" of the internet really interesting. It shows how design reflects and shapes our digital world.

• What does Duvall mean by "hypermodernism," and how is it different from postmodernism?
• How has the internet changed the way we understand and use signs in graphic design?

Dot Tuer's essay talks about how Vera Frenkel uses tech to look at memory, loss and human connection. Tuer talks about how String Games used early video tech to connect individuals in two cities. This shows how new media can be exciting and make people feel far away at the same time. After that, she links this to "Body Missing," a subsequent online project about art and people lost during the Holocaust that uses the internet as a place to remember. Tuer contends that Frenkel's work transcends tech play; it evolves into a "poetic of absence," illustrating how digital communication can unite individuals, and evoke a sense of loss.

• What does Tuer believe about Frenkel's art that makes people think differently about tech in new media?
• How do "String Games" and "Body Missing" indicate that tech can both keep and erase memories?

Soulellis talks on how publishing has changed from unambiguous, fixed "post-like" gestures to a constant flow molded by algorithms and live feeds in Performing the Feed. He says that old publishing worked by interrupting people, like nailing a post to a door or printing a page that needed attention. But digital feeds today create a "smooth flow" that makes us monitor things all the time. Instead Soulellis explains how this new way of thinking mixes human and non-human voices, which makes it tougher to figure out where info originates from or how to trust it. He says both artist and audiences need new ways to slow down, stop, and look at the stream in order to better understand power, automation, and bias. In a world where information never stops moving, he wants us to reconsider how we publish, view, and save things.

• Soulellis talks about "smooth flow" and "new boredom." Do you think feeds make us feel like we're doing something, or do they just make us feel like we're watching?
• What should constitute as authorship or accountability if a lot of online content originates from algorithms instead of people?

In this reading, Groys argues that once art moves onto the Internet, it loses the protected, fictional framing that museums and books used to create, and instead becomes part of everyday information streams. Because everything online is instantaneously exposed, tracked, and linked to the real person behind it, the artist’s process becomes just as visible as the final artwork. Groys adds that this constant visibility eliminates the previous idea of the "private," concealed creative self and replaces it with a kind of absolute openness that feels both freeing and hellish. He also shows how the Internet converts archives into active, flexible systems where artworks may be continually recontextualized, which boosts their utopian potential for affecting the future in new ways.

• Do you think art changes when it gets put on the internet instead of a museum?
• Does it matter that the internet shows everything an artist does, not just the final work?