CRITICAL CODE REMIX

The second segment of phase one focuses on compiling the wireframe and design notes from the first segment and transposing them into a coded version of the mobile app that the Millennial Enragés and I began to collaboratively produce. Following the primary goal of the project, my role consists of participating as the principal coder, requiring me to connect and merge various computational technologies and practices. In particular, it entails converting a CSV file of textual and geolocational information into a manageable format, specifically the more accessible JSON data structure, and then importing it in Xcode, which is the software that enables iOS programmers to create apps using the Swift programming language. Along with importing the JSON data to Xcode, it requires installing the Mapbox SDK (the platform that makes interactive map viewing and geolocation services possible) and adding images to the asset manager in the software. My role also involves coding the app, which necessitates parsing the JSON data into a readable format so that the textual, geolocated, and visual information display correctly; accessing the Mapbox web services to generate interactive map views and locations; and arranging the design elements and features according to the way the Millennial Enragés designed and wireframed them in the first segment.

Regarding the computational technologies that I used for the app, they are not the codification of universal guidelines and checklists for making mobile apps or a prescriptive blueprint for replicating new ones. Instead, they are a compilation of the “tools at hand,” a notion

the tools available within the moment rather than passively creating them using conventionally- applicable materials, processes, and procedures (Kincheloe & McLaren, 2011, p. 254). On top of that, I employ these tools at hand critically, meaning they are no longer oriented toward the regressive work of manufacture and passive consumption but toward the free and creative activity of production (Khayati, 1966/2006) that challenges a specific social issue. In this sense, the tools at hand are analogous to the ones that cultural producers critically use to disrupt and intervene in their milieu. For example, they are like the spray paint cans that graffitists use to cut adrift the walls of consumer society with countercultural slogans and the turntables and needles that hip hop DJs use to produce remixed samples of existing artifacts and scratching sounds that form unique momentary compositions that disrupt the repetition of everyday musical

arrangements. They are also similar to the projectors and feeds of magnetic tape that Guy Debord, the Marxist filmmaker, used to produce subversive films, which he filled with interruptions and juxtapositions of other media to critique forms of alienation and repetitive circuits of consumer society. As it specifically pertains to this project, I utilized computational instruments to programmatically build and configure the mobile app according to the design and purpose that the Millennial Enragés intended. That is, to intervene and transform the dominant narrative of their predominantly white institution by creating a mobile app that educates and visualizes the histories of African-American experiences at University College. As the participants asserted, these historical accounts exist on the periphery of the larger narrative of their university.

In addition to utilizing different tools to construct the app, I coded it in a style that also resonates with the work of remix bricoleurs. As explained above, my role in the participatory project involves coding the app to reflect the wireframe and design notes and to

programmatically connect and merge the multiple technologies and materials such as photos, textual descriptions, geolocated places of interest, and other media files. The aim is for all of the components to work together to communicate information that expands and visualizes historical accounts of marginalized others in the campus community. Again, instead of following

universally-applicable practices, in this case, coding architecture and design patterns, I engage in a mode of app making that I refer to as critical code remix, a computational activity that

converges the fundamental tenets of remix studies and the Situationist tactic of détournement. Generally speaking, it involves locating and remixing preexisting snippets of source code to produce a new text that functions in the way that Millennial Enragés designed and wireframed. It also includes coding with a détournement mindset oriented toward change and the democratizing of human value. For this project, that means locating and remixing code to produce new code that makes the app do something socially beneficial: intervening and transforming the dominant narrative about the university by expanding the histories of African-American experiences at University College via an iPhone app.

In the remainder of the chapter, I outline the concepts that informed the creation of the coded version of the app. I begin with an overview of remix and then trace some of its pre-digital antecedents, which include the critical activity of détournement that Debord and the Situationists practiced. I then discuss the digital aspects of remix that informed my critical coding process. Finally, I provide screen captures of what the app looked like in this segment of the project. It is important to stress, however, that the concepts of remix and détournement come with their own set of theories and practices that serve as distinctions about what qualifies as a remix or a détournement, respectively. My goal here is not to claim that my computational approach for coding the app fits securely within either camp, but rather to say that the concepts informed my

critical and creative imagination when transposing the wireframe and design notes into the first coded iteration of the app.

Overview of Remix

A review of the scholarly literature on remix reveals several theoretical, practical, semantic, and aesthetic interpretations of what constitutes “remix,” as exemplified in works by Lessing (2008) and Gunkel (2016) and in edited volumes by Jenkins and Kelly (2013) and Navas, Gallagher, and burrough (2015; 2018), among others. At the broadest level, remix refers to the cultural practice of selecting and taking preexisting artifacts, using them as raw materials and resources, and then combining and manipulating them into new kinds of creative blends, products, and expressions (Campanelli, 2015; Gunkel, 2016; Irvin, 2015; Lankshear & Knobel, 2011; Lessig, 2008; Navas, 2018; Navas et al., 2018; Netanel, 2018). The artifacts in this context can include a variety of things, depending on the types of new products that content creators— artists, makers, producers, designers, programmers, and so forth—intend to make (Loomis, 2019). Moreover, the range of remix forms are just as diverse, especially when considering the extent that computer and web-based technologies provide tools and strategies (e.g., the ubiquity of cut/copy and paste in popular software) that enable creators to locate, view, and download digital material as well as interact, combine, modify, and upload for themselves. The means of production are not only in abundance but the availability of source material as well. At the same time, even though the means and materials that creators remix varies both in number and vision, the purpose remains the same: to create new things out of the “bits and fragments of already existing materials, altering those pieces into an assemblage of disparate elements…[and] compose new meanings through that assemblage of multiple parts” (Loomis, 2019, p. 2).

Antecedents of Remix: From Homer to Debord

In current form, the cultural practice of remix is a widespread activity, whereby users employ the affordances of sophisticated computer technologies and online networks to sample and remix existing digital content and information to make something new, such as music, images, texts, sounds, animations, and, as I explain, software code (Borschke, 2017; Church, 2015; Dasgupta et al., 2016; Navas, 2013). However, remix “did not simply emerge with digitization” (Jones, 2010), which is to say it is neither new nor limited to a specific

technological activity or practice (Church, 2015; Lessig, 2008; Loomis, 2019). When read in historical terms, the cultural practice of remix has a long tradition of pre-digital appropriation across arts and humanities. Understanding the historical backstory of remix offers the

opportunity to reflect on the broad range of concepts and procedures of the past and generate hybridizations of cultural activity with practices in current contemporary times (Edwards, 2014, p. 32).

Generally speaking, remixing has impacted society’s cultural development. Lankshear and Knobel (2011) posit that “the Ancient Romans remixed Greek art forms and ideas in their own artworks; democratic forms of government remix a range of ancient and not-so-ancient forms of governance; architecture has always remixed styles and key structural forms” (p. 95). Likewise, literary classics from the Western canon are creative products of appropriation and transformation (Jenkins & Kelley, 2013), whereby “citations of ideas or other forms of

reference” are sampled and remixed into something new (Navas, 2012, p. 6). Jenkins and Kelly (2013) note the following:

Homer remixed Greek myths to construct The Iliad and The Odyssey; Shakespeare sampled his plots and characters from other author’s plays; the Sistine Chapel ceiling

mashes up stories and images from across the entire Biblical tradition. Lewis Carroll spoofs the vocabulary of exemplary verses that were then standard to formal education. Many core works of the western canon emerged through a process of retelling and elaboration: the figure of King Arthur shifts from an obscure footnote in an early chronicle to the full-blown character of Morte D’Arthur within a few centuries, as the original story is built on by many generations of storytellers. (p. 32)

Along the same lines, Rostama (2015) points to cento poetry as a historical example of a remix. She explains that the term “cento” derives from the Latin for a patchwork quilt or cloak, and as a poetical genre, it means piecing together and arranging borrowed texts from other authors into a new form or order, bearing a striking resemblance to principles of modern remix. A notable example of cento came from Roman poet Faltonia Betitia Proba, who composed A Virgilian Cento Concerning the Glory of Christ in the Late Antiquity period. This text consisted of combined lines from Virgil’s Aeneid to narrate biblical stories. Even though Proba reordered and placed Virgil’s verses in a Christo-centric context, the new work took “on a significance not found in the Aeneid” (Levenstein, 2004, p. 206). In other words, the cento generated new

meaning through the combination of citations and references into one original but derivative textual configuration.

Taking a historical leap forward to the nineteenth century, art movements like Dadaism employed the practice of material appropriation, a medium that involved the reuse of preexisting material in new contexts. Bruin-Molé (2020) refers to this practice as a “remix-style of

appropriation” (p. 15). A notable artist who employed the method was Marcel Duchamp. For example, he created “readymade” works, manufactured objects that he turned into art. That process involved taking a recognizable object and recontextualizing it so that in the new context,

the associations that viewers have with the appropriated material become subverted and, consequently, they become motivated to reexamine their relationship to it (Navas, 2012). For instance, Duchamp created the Fountain (1917), a mass-produced porcelain urinal with “R. Mutt” written along the bottom. In the language of remix, Duchamp “sampled” or “cut out” the urinal from the real-world, which substantively had negative artistic significance, and then re- contextualized it within an artworld situation to question and generate new meaning about the nature of art and culture (Bruin-Molé, 2020). He also created the readymade L.H.O.O.Q. (1919), where he painted a mustache on a reproduction (in this case, a postcard) of Leonardo da Vinci’s

Mona Lisa. Again, in the form of remix-style appropriation, Duchamp took a mass-produced work of art, one that many appreciated but over time became commodified on a postcard, and added specific elements in the form of a mustache and an appended title to recontextualize it into something new: a signature work of art.

Other members of the Dadaist movement also employed a remix-style of appropriation much like Duchamp. In particular, John Heartfield and Hannah Höch used photographs, as manufactured objects, to make photomontages. This specific form of montage is both the process and structure of cutting-out pictures from various media sources, such as newspapers and

magazines, and assembling them into a single composition. The purpose was to confront rules associated with traditional art-making, which the medium of photomontage certainly did, and to provide critical commentary about world affairs and events. Heartfield, for example, created political photomontages that targeted German Nazism. One of his recognizable anti-Nazi photomontages is Adolf the Superman: Swallows Gold and Spouts Junk, 1932. In this piece, Heartfield sampled a photo of Hitler and combined it with an x-ray to reveal that a swastika replaced his heart and that flows of gold coins, collected from wealthy industrialists, passed

down his throat and into his stomach. As the title indicates, the photomontage exposes Hitler as a greedy leader who spouts “junk” to motivate Germany toward a profitable war. Similarly, Höch produced photomontages that alternated between the acerbically political and the overtly

feminist, and sometimes both. In the photomontage Cut with the Kitchen Knife through the Last Weimar Beer-Belly Cultural Epoch in Germany, (1919-1920), Höch satirically and ironically juxtaposed photos of political leaders and famous culture figures—from male members of the military, the new German government, and the former Empire to female dancers, athletes, actresses, and artists—with photos of machine parts, animals, and texts (West, 2001). She also included a pasted map of European countries where women can vote, as if she were expressing enthusiasm over the possibility of women getting involved in politics and, as the title aptly suggests, “cutting” through the male-dominated “beer belly” society of Weimar Germany.

Artists in the mid- to late twentieth-century employed a remix-style appropriation in creative ways as well, especially with the emergence of ubiquitous media. For example, writer and visual artist William Burroughs, along with painter and writer Brion Gysin, adopted the experimental technique of literary cut-ups during the 1950s and 1960s (in many ways, it was a literary version of Heartfield and Höch’s experiments in cutting up photos and refashioning them into a single montage). Aleatory and playful, cut-ups entailed taking written texts that he and others had composed, cutting them into pieces, and then reassembling them at random to produce a single document, as seen in the set of three novels in the Nova Trilogy: The Soft Machine

(1961), The Ticket That Exploded (1962), and Nova Express (1964). For Burroughs, the cut-up technique was a literary version of collage, an approach to writing that allowed for unpredictable spontaneity that leads to productive discoveries (Rettberg, 2018). His juxtapositions of written prose eventually made use of contemporary media. He experimented with tape recorder cut-ups

(several tapes spliced into other) and film cut-ups (audio-visual montages); and he experimented with mixed media, which resulted in a montage of cut-ups from television, movies, photography, and real events (Adema, 2018; Robinson, 2011).

In the realm of modern pop art, artists like Andy Warhol and Robert Rauschenberg incorporated a remix-style of appropriation into their practices. Navas (2012) notes that Warhol used principles of selective remix in his painting, where he took recognizable material from popular culture and replicated them within his paintings. For example, he appropriated

Campbell’s soup cans, as samples from the real world, and painted their images on individual canvases; and then he displayed them together on shelves like an aisle in a grocery store. He also appropriated images of celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley. Generally

speaking, Warhol’s paintings of replicated mass-produced goods questioned icon fetishism and commodification of the art institution. Along the same lines, Robert Rauschenberg employed the technique of “combines,” an approach that involved the appropriation of photographs and urban detritus (e.g., industrial scraps of metal, street signs, pictures, socks, plastics, furniture, and even taxidermized birds and animals) and the recombination of artistic forms through the integration of the various found objects into the compositional space. Subsequently, the “combines” created a sort of collage that brought “wild and radical combinations of forms, textures, concepts, and materials” (Balakian, 2015, p. 139). In other words, the Rauschenberg “combines” echo the “dialogic engine” inherent in a remix, generating points of contacts and networks of meaning between forms and materials that might otherwise have nothing to say to one another (Irvin, 2015), while keeping in place the stylistic marker or aura of each appropriated fragment or unit (Navas, 2012).

Working around the same time as these mid- to late twentieth-century artists, Guy Debord and the Situationist International—a group of radical artists and intellectuals—emerged as the culmination and departure of the preceding groups who employed a remix-style of

appropriation in their work. As mentioned in previous chapters, Dadaism and Surrealism (i.e., an art movement that sought to tap into the creative possibilities of the unconscious mind)

influenced him and the Situationists. However, Debord (1967) contended that despite their influence, these movements actually “marked the end of modern art” (para. 191). He asserted that while they represented “the last great assault of the revolutionary proletarian movement,” (para. 191), their offensive ultimately fell defeat to their failure, leaving them imprisoned within the artistic field that they once announced as obsolete. Debord summarized their political failure as such: “Dadaism sought to abolish art without realizing it; surrealism sought to realize art without abolishing it” (para. 191). Then, in Hegelian form, Debord synthesized—one could even say remixed—Dadaism and Surrealism by modifying those movements’ deficiencies into theory and practice that proclaims art as a negation: both and neither at the same time. As Erjavec (2015) points out, it is within this context that Debord replaced critical art (e.g., Dadaism’s “anti- art” stance) with critical practice, whereby he envisioned that aesthetic revolution no longer resided within established forms of art, but rather in transformative actions characterized as “the style of negations” (para. 4).

The basis of Debord’s critical practice was détournement, which commonly means to divert or to hijack. According to Situationist texts (1959/2006), the “peculiar power” of détournement stems from its double meaning (p. 67). It first negates the ideological and bourgeoisie conditions of art-making, which he believed to be a phenomenon that has been commodified and subsumed by the spectacle (e.g., the state under which market capitalism

commodifies and pacifies lived human experience through mass media images—a collection of false representations of real life). Then, it negates the negation to produce something that is politically and radically interventive. This procedure, which ultimately became the definition of détournement, involved the “reuse of preexisting artistic elements in a new ensemble…[via] two fundamental laws of détournement…the loss of importance of each détourned autonomous element—which may go so far as to completely lose its original sense—and at the same time the