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RUSH - The Net Art Gold Rush

by the newly appointed conceptualart.org critic. Comments may be directed to critic@conceptualart.org

click here for the conceptualart.org color scheme.

Every so often consumer publications have a revelation about the repeating nature of history. The current narrative as it pertains to the Internet is of the Net Gold Rush, and it covers nearly every combination of similarities -- from the renewed belief in the equality of man to the impending doom of unharnessed rapacity. It examines the moral responsibility of multi-national corporations and exposes their frightening role in the decision making of the United States Government. It speaks of our reckless response to greed, while we day-trade our life savings away -- or worse -- as we accrue a level of insurmountable margin debt while shifting important savings from our tax-sheltered retirement plans into unmanaged brokerage accounts with checkwriting privileges and discounted trading agreements. Moreover, it reinforces the Great American Myth that we need not be of pure breeding or born into wealth, we need only have the spirit of an entrepreneur to achieve the dream of unlimited fortune. However, one chapter of the "Westward Ho" Internet allegory is not discussed when referring to the repetitive nature of history: the Western WorldÕs habitual practice of rationalizing, undermining and exploiting other cultures in a sinister and Machiavellian fashion. Over half of the responsibility for the near-extinction of the North American Bison lies at the hand of intended 49ers. The Westward expansion of the 1800s brought a plague of small-pox on the native inhabitants of this continent, and the involution of their farming and tracking methods all but depleted the resources necessary for their survival. The Internet constitutes a culture, regardless of its corporate/government birthright, and it endangers its own survival by negotiating with the western expansionists of the New Millennium. Chat rooms, like The Open Ear, Usenet groups like alt.sex.domesticviolence, and invaluable encyclopedias of information from university libraries (accessible through the nearly forgotten search utility Archie), have all but disappeared or been rendered practically inaccessible. This list of examples is at least a hundred times too short to accurately depict the toll of the commercial promotion of the web browser as the sole intended interface for the Internet.

The art museum takes an active role in the exploitation of Internet culture by seeking profitability at the expense of an accurate history. In this case, the innovation that Net Artists have brought to broader aspects of Internet culture are all but ignored so that browser-based art can flourish under the frequently misapplied title of "Net Art." Meanwhile, Net Artists and their proponent historians and critical theorists are more worried about a potential for grander exposure for Net Art than about the ramifications of allowing this all-too-familiar historical narrative of cultural exploitation to unfold. The museum is embraced as the means by which Net Art will finally be considered "equal" to all other forms of art. The utter lack of necessity for this transition from the cathode ray of the home computer to the brick-and-mortar temple of the institution of art is insufficiently examined. The Western worldÕs approach to the broader world of art and culture has always carried a tradition of misappropriation and flagrant disregard for the less consumable aspects of any foreign culture. It yields not in its belief that weeding out less profitable aspects of another culture is imperative to its survival as a Democratic Society. The current phrase for describing this act when referring to Net Art is "Filtering." Net Artists and their public advocates openly listen to the museumÕs idea of filtering as if it were the sermon of missionaries. The museum convinces them that it will: locate the important artwork for them, help them to use the Internet to increase dialogue on a global scale, assist in providing international exhibition spaces for provincial artists, and, finally, use its research to improve education.

We have heard this rhetoric before, though we refuse to acknowledge its relevance to the culture of the Internet. In her book Primitive Art in Civilized Places, Sally Price describes this missionary tendency as the Universality Principle, a phrase coined by Leonard Bernstein in 1976 (though not initially intended to be relevant to our discussion). Price deconstructs some of BernsteinÕs essays on the topic of musico-linguistics (a reference to Noam ChomskyÕs socio-linguistics) and describes this process as playing the role of the white patron to non-Western "musicians." Where BernsteinÕs goal was to find an underlying one-ness between the guttural sounds of a hominid and modern vocabulary across separate languages, his unscientific approach served only to excuse his broad generalizations of anthropology and more specifically of non-Western cultures. In 1969, BernsteinÕs readings of Noam Chomsky entered into his own research on music, and he began to write a series of lectures for Harvard Univiersity. In one lecture Bernstein states that the infant cry for hunger is "Mmm," and when the breast enters its mouth the child says "Ah," thus forming the sound MA for mother. He asserts that this is the first "proto-word" and that "for most languages, the word for mother employs the root MA or some phonetic variant." There is no scientific basis for this deduction, yet it was quickly included in the Norton lecture series at Harvard, where it is still frequently sighted as a reference. In another lecture, Bernstein writes "Somehow it all added up. Way back before and behind and beyond all these comparatively recent languages, there must lurk, I fondly hoped, one universal parent tongue, which contained the great simultaneous equation: Big = Good and Small = Bad." Again, there is no scientific basis for such a statement and this is further underlined with phrases like "hoped" and "must".

In Sally PriceÕs words, "ideological commitment can easily override such obstacles [as making difficult analysis possible for the laymen to understand]." (The parenthetical completion of this sentence is obtained from the preceding paragraph in her book.) Leonard Bernstein speaks with the superior voice of Western culture, but disguises it in a well-intentioned humanitarian search for unity. In this fashion (and by carrying the standard of ideology) members of Western society can use such phrases as Fellowship and Equality when discussing exploitation and appropriation of non-Western art. She mentions other popular expressions which are obviously untrue in the larger context of art, but which are frequently used to excuse the hostile assertion of Western ideology on non-Western culture. "Art is the great unifier, for it is the most obvious outpouring of the linking humanism of feeling between peoples. (Anon. 1970)." She sets a tone by undressing and exposing the larger intentions of this Western practice. Price confirms this position as it pertains to Ôprimitive artÕ by adding, "The ÔequalityÕ accorded to non-Westerners (and their art), is not a natural reflection of human equivalence, but rather the result of Western benevolence." Broad, generalized statements like "improving education" and "increasing dialogue on a global scale" fit nicely into the same unsettling scenario, and serve as warning signs for the ultimate fate of the Internet culture.

The museumÕs inclination to better understand this medium and the voice it expresses in the broader world of culture is the same act of mistaken benevolence Ð suffering from the misunderstanding that Net Art must exist in another context to make it more accessible to a broader population. Unlike other forms of non-Western art, Internet art is already accessible to much of the Western world through the home computer. The fellowship and equality being offered by the institution isnÕt as desirable to Net Artists as it sounds, and through the decades of witnessing these relationships it is surprising to see Net Artists so eager to engage.

This approach to equality through benevolence means two things for Net Art. First, from a standpoint of experiencing art, Net Art will be viewed in the same manner as all other art in the institution: by involving the walls and the space confined by them (framed within a "collection", projected on a wall, or exhibited as interactive sculpture). This emphasizes the importance of the museum as a venue, revealing that the museum sees itself as more important than the art. The museum also views Net Art as a tool for its own survival more than as an important facet of contemporary art to be recorded in the name of posterity. Second, Net Art will follow the same equality of ideas, (for example, Net Art that passes through the filter will register familiarity in the viewer). Instead of challenging the potential for alternatives to experiencing art, the museumÕs treatment of Net Art, in the benevolent attempt to elevate Net Art to the status of other forms of art, will ignore what is historically significant in place of what is widely accepted and popularly received. This is a point Price made very clear in her assessment of the exploitation of non-Western art (though her book is an account of history, and we are discussing things in the present Ôwhile they unfoldÕ).

Unfortunately, the current discourse of network art seriously lacks critical voices like Sally Price. UC Berkeley held a symposium on "Art, Technology, and Culture" in February 2000. Part of this symposium involved a discussion in which panelists debated how Net Art might be institutionalized into the larger practice of cataloging and exhibiting Western art. Critical theorist Hal Foster appeared on the panel, yet he barely uttered a word. Foster was, however, a relatively loud voice in the debate over ethnocentric tendencies in the Western worldÕs approach to non-Western art. This past practice of critical theory, from critical writers and art historians like Foster and Price, addressed issues of exploitation and misappropriation in institutionalizing culture. Yet somehow the advent of Net Art either leaves them speechless, preoccupied, or more likely unheard because the larger institutional filter wonÕt recognize them. More likely, the critical discourse of art is actually dumbfounded by a medium that requires none of the traditional constructs that made for such valuable fodder in the cannon of counter-critiquing. It makes little difference in the end. This span of open dialogues, ranging from the readymadeÕs critique of high art to the more current (though by no means contemporary) "ethnocentric" analyses of the museumÕs role in the cycle of art, is consistent only in the apparent lack of remorse for the ineffectiveness of its efforts. The senatorial practice of open dialogue -- critique and counter critique, like good participants of a democracy -- leaves little hope that a single view from western society will ever embrace a notion that runs counter to "progress." Our proud American tradition of making a point and then debating it ad nausea quietly undermines our good intentions.

The Spring/Fall 1998 issue of Parkett magazine (vol. 50/51) contains a review of Jeff KoonsÕs "Celebration" series in an article titled Frankenstein in Paradise by Keith Seward. In the opening paragraph, Seward makes a counter statement regarding an unnecessary "anxiety of influence" which is somehow a symptom of too keen a sense of history. He goes on to explain an ancient Greek belief that art emerged from a desire for immortal glory, or what we eventually understand to mean a universal acceptance on a grand historic scale. This article is selected from many articles written since the Fall of 1998 to illustrate a popular voice indicative of critical writing on contemporary art: to serve as the critical voice of exegesis, rather than a critical voice of art. While Mr. Seward writes some very insightful comments about KoonsÕ work, the overall vein is a debate with anyone who would criticize art employing an "aesthetics of popular aesthetics." He defends this style of work (insert any number of artists into this debate) by remarking that it converts a response of "whatÕs the artist trying to do?" into a response of "oh, I remember that." Seward believes this shifts responsibility from the artist to the viewer. Similar arguments were made in defense of Sol LewittÕs unfinished cubes in the 1960s. The art moved, but the conversation didnÕt, and we are left with the unanswered question of "why are we reading this argument in response to that artist?" It is a forty-year-old idea repeated to test its validity in a contemporary context. This is sadly not a reflection on Jeff KoonsÕs art, since the article doesnÕt quote a single word from the artist or one of over a dozen people from his studio. It is a reflection of what is considered important in a contemporary assessment of art. Seward has made a point, and a fine point, but it has less to do with Koons than it does with a counterpoint to the critique of popularized aesthetics in contemporary art.

This point/counterpoint process of critical dialogue is especially popular in the debate surrounding the globalization of art. One writer poses the question, "Should the museum give credence to non-Western art or non-Western artists?" The counterpoint that does not answer the question is, "How can the museum address a recognition of non-Western art without a comparison to Western art and, therefore, a value judgement?" The ongoing critique of these questions in this pseudo-Socratic method of better understanding and ultimate "progress" in our manner of exhibiting art becomes the catalyst for moving the issue away from the answer. In fact, it moves so far away that neither the western artist nor the non-western artist/artifact are involved in the discussion, and the institution is left to make management decisions on how best to proceed. The original critique addresses the purpose of the museum as a conduit for the exhibition of non-western art, which we all believe is a necessary dialogue. No less necessary is the exegete of this critique, but it turns the argument upside down. While the critical debate ensues, the survival of the museum is insured (because survival of the museum is singularly important to posing this question in the first place). Furthermore, a self-aggrandizing role in the promotion of western art Ð in the promotion of the western museum Ð above an accurate depiction of contemporary art history is excused. This process goes on and on, giving a certain liberty to the likes of Mr. Seward among others to simply use an artist of their choosing to support a critical argument of anotherÕs critical approach more so than a meaningful assessment of the art in question.

Nonetheless, Seward is particularly insightful when commenting on the estranged contemporary role of the artist through the eyes of popular culture. In the same article, he implies that the late 1980s bred a particular distrust from the publicÕs perspective toward the arts, which is true. It is safe to say that the publicÕs reception of fine arts has receded to near unrecognizable support. Exceptions are shows with wide appeal to popular culture with a controversial edge such as the Saatchi & Saatchi collection. These shows receive popular attendance and mass publicity, but are seldom as historically relevant as they are geared toward generating attention for a venue. However, it is also the type of critical writing in which our intellectual protagonist, the critic, explains away the aesthetics of popular aesthetics with Cartesian logic. Seward even makes a passing reference to Descartes practically naming him as the sole embodiment of philosophy. "A similar suspiciousness always haunted philosophyÕs view of knowledge, to the point where Descartes finally raised it into the principle of universal doubt." It is difficult to believe the awesome power that the rationalist discourse still has over the cultural world at large -- that if Descartes said it then it must be final. SewardÕs argument is based on the assumption that Koons is successful because his art registers familiarity. Remember that the familiarity of the images and aesthetics in KoonsÕs paintings from the Celebration series shifts the responsibility of open communication of an idea from the artist to the viewer. This use of principles from a bygone era is acceptable because it identifies with a larger audience, which is -- he believes -- what good art should do. To make clear the use of Cartesian logic: first, uncover a theorem and then attempt to rationalize a means by which it can be proven. OR, as put by Descartes "early modernist" understudy in architecture, Charles Edouard Le Corbusier (1887 Ð 1965), "form follows function." The form art takes ultimately suits its function-- once that function is clearly outlined by the institution. By SewardÕs assessment, the function of art is to identify with a larger audience.

Through the totalitarian magic of the Rationalists we are, again, faced with Sally PriceÕs explanation of the universality principle, where the equality of art rests on its familiarity with a larger audience. If the institution seeks to unravel something so contentious as "contemporary art history," it is shortsighted to imply that the work included in this history is selected based on its acceptance by a larger audience. It is completely estranged from the research of visual arts, however, to suggest that this work be "familiar." A closer examination of the Westward momentum of cultural infiltration reveals that this is not just a hypothesis gathered from the analysis of one critical writer, but an aspect of greater museum practice that underlines the exhibitions of most contemporary art, especially that of Net Art. This process is responsible for selecting from the broader world of individual artists, those which meet the industrious needs of the museumÕs curated exhibition (whether entertainment related, interactivity related, or related through exposing a cultural underground). Price makes a startlingly relevant assessment of how the Western institution of art asserts its power in filtering works of art, especially art of a foreign culture. "Members of the Western world are the ones who, again with their access to material wealth and communication, are taking it upon themselves to determine the nature of artistic production in virtually every corner of the world. In short, Westerners have assumed responsibility for the definition, conservation, interpretation, marketing, and future existence of the worldÕs arts."

As to Keith SewardÕs remarks concerning distrust of a contemporary art-viewing public toward contemporary works of art, be they Net-based or otherwise: the fault of this distrust does not lie with the artists themselves, but with their sources of funding. It is the responsibility of one who endeavors to experience art to bear the burden of research and not the responsibility of the artist to put their years of research on a catchy little placard next to their work. However familiar the scenario, it is completely unsettling in the grand scope of history to assume artÕs success is based on its appeal to the broadest common denominator. There is a fine line between calling on an artist to defend their work and implying that the extent of explanation should be administered in easily digestible tablets because we, as a society, have lost our will to learn. In the end, we find the harshest critics of art, aside from artists themselves, are ones who deign to receive art on the same level that they receive popular entertainment. It is precisely these same critics who remain intent on giving their support after the wake of the Helms conglomerate in the 1980s. The minute support still available to individual artists through the National Endowment for the Arts diminished completely since then. Without publicly funded individual research grants there are few alternatives besides the philanthropic patron. Private philanthropy and weighted competition grants that look to art to fill the role of research and development for corporate interests take on a strange new role. Form, once again, follows function, and in this instance the one financially backing the artistic endeavor names the function.

David Ross, director of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, recently managed to amass the tidy sum of $50,000 to be awarded to an Internet artist (specific Internet medium not designated). It wasnÕt intended to fund individual research as much as it was a ransom poster for a threat to the safety of the museum. It issued a clear challenge to the art world to deliver a winner so all future Net Art has a benchmark. Steve Dietz, Internet curator for the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis further underlined this idea in an article from the Art CenterÕs site titled "Why have there been no great Internet artists" (a title appropriated from Linda NochlinÕs book "Why have there been no great women artists"). His closing remarks are "I am optimistic about this space and about Net Art, and while we may not know all the best questions, I do know that part of the right answer is $50,000. It is of far more use spending it than saving it for a GREAT artist." With that, the role of the museum to justify their future selection of Net Artists need not entertain any other vanguard of the Internet. Of course, the winner had to be a browser-based work of art.

Although it was a clear act of desperation, the Museum is not entirely at fault for the outcome of this faint gesture toward artistic research. Net Artists scrambled like rats to submit their proposals, when nobody needed such huge amounts of capital to fund the research of Net Art. Among other examples, the Inuit people of the Canadian North survived for thousands of years without the slightest notion of gunpowder, and never lacked food. When rifles were introduced to the hunting population, the Inuit people became completely dependant on these tools to successfully hunt for food. Less than a decade after their indoctrination into rifle hunting, a full quarter the population began to die of starvation when the supplies of ammunition were not delivered, or were made unaffordable by Western merchants.

The Koons review in Parkett is relevant for one final reason: Keith Seward is among a new breed of well-paid art theorists and critics in the publishing world of art (magazines, anthologies, etc.). He is a graphic designer and interactive CD producer. It is particularly interesting to view how the world of commercial interactivity with the computer is cultivated by the art-world to play an active role in the publicÕs perception of future of artistic development. It is in the Net ArtistÕs best interest to examine their opinions, what influences their writing, and what resources they cite to support their claims of what is and is not to be understood as important in contemporary art -- specifically, in the future of Net Art.

The very notion of ÔmeansÕ is a tool through which work is completed and a contributing member to society is revealed. In the reality of the artist, there is little value in becoming a contributing member to society. The ÔmeansÕ or ÔfunctionÕ for what we do with art is a rather unsettling adjunct of historyÕs perception of our profitability. The Cartesian Discourse on Method was written in 1637. That gives the art writer/curator over 360 years in which to develop (if development in this sense is possible) beyond an infantile rationalization of "finding the function of art" as the only purpose for the existence of the institution of art. Has philosophy offered no other model for complimenting art in an ordered society? Do we simply overlook the writings of Sartre, Adorno, Mann, or even Kant (who broke the mould of ÔMan is the Measure of all thingsÕ with his Critique of Pure Reason as early as 1781), because we can not find a directly profitable route to embracing art as--or other than--metaphysics?

In answer, consider that the point/counterpoint method of critiquing art has so far removed the artist from the conversation that the institution involved in "directing the public to the art" cares very little about how the artist is best serviced. The question of how the museum can best service artists in the mediation of art and public has never been posed beyond issues of contextual space. This is especially true where the interest of providing exhibition spaces for Net Artists is concerned. Within artÕs history to date, Net Art is the medium least lacking exhibition space. All suggestions put forth by the Museum in finding their role in the Net Art phenomena are clearly definable as survivalist in nature, having little to do with servicing the artist or the attending public, and less to do with earmarking history. The Walker Art CenterÕs Internet Curator, Steve Deitz should be commended for his candor by exemplifying this statement in several documented sources resulting from years of researching how the traditional art museum can impact the network environment of art. The Walker Art CenterÕs ÔGallery 9Õ web site, www.walkerart.org/gallery9/index.html, contained a series of essays compiled for the "Beyond Interface" show. The mission statement concerning these articles describes them as a search for ways the institution/museum can play a role in the discovery of new uses for the Internet (where ÔInternetÕ used here means World Wide Web). The site outlines the following as possible functions for Web Based Art: The Web can "enhance our education", it can "increase our dialogue", and it can be "a means to develop an exhibitions place for artists who don't have a ÔrealÕ international gallery." Dietz actually delivered the launching speech for the UC Berkeley symposium in February (where Hal Foster made such a silent debut to the Internet community). During this speech, "Signal or Noise? The Network Museum," Dietz further outlines the perceived significant role of the museum with regard to Net Art. "TheyÕll always need a filter. There is too much to choose from. Too much information. TheyÕll always need filters. (Even if they donÕt like us.)" He goes on to rationalize this mantra in much the same manner as described above. "From a content perspective, it makes sense to limit information choices to those that relate to your topic Ð a shoe museum, an exhibition about entertainment, a symposium about Net Art."

Curious examples, to be sure. The Walker Art Center presented an Internet exhibition of Net Artists which opened a week before Deitz trip to Berkeley as the Walker web site titled Art Entertainment Network. This exhibition filters works of art that discuss or examine entertainment in contemporary society. DeitzÕs own description of the project is "entertainment strategies as a means of critiquing our thrill-seeking society, as well as a way to address the many complexities of contemporary global society." While his mind may be on surviving the coming century, his eye is most definitely, as Price would indicate, on the globe. The excess of plug-ins and other up-to-the-minute software releases necessary to view what Dietz filtered as the best and the brightest in web-based artists at large is a substantial strain on the computers of the less affluent. It would be fitting to find the Art Entertainment Network appearing on the latest Bell Labs advertisement "another reason to get DSL." DietzÕs own explanation of the filter used to select the 40+ artists participating in the AEN show (LetÕs Entertain) begs the question, whoÕs payroll is he on? "The artists in LetÕs Entertain challenge us not to simply renounce notions of entertainment and pleasure per se, but to understand how such strategies can be used to tell a different storyÉ." Perhaps he means the one about the little Internet service provider that eventually went on to buy Time Warner.

ItÕs easy to understand the survivalist intentions behind the museum, since the 1980s were equally hard on institutional funding for the arts. Without a public source of funding for research in art, the private source intervenes, and as mentioned earlier, the ones most likely to provide private funding for art are the ones intent on receiving art at the same level as popular entertainment. As Seward made clear in justifying popular aesthetics as being well received by an audience who can experience Koons on a pseudo-conceptual level, the Net Artist is ultimately challenged to create art that the museum will recognize in its filter. The research of language, of social interaction, or of cultural mirroring is secondary to the appeal to a larger audience or of "finding new uses for the World Wide Web." Without public funding for the research of art it is also important to note that the relevance of function must be made clear to the grantor before the money is released. The museum is admitting, in no uncertain terms, that the research and development conducted by Internet companies to bring their P/E ratio into the black, is being done by Net Artists every day without the pesky nuisances of patents, acquisitions and mergers, or market research. Net Artists will offer this information (along with a "postage paid" return envelope for their rejected materials) for a mere $50,000 personal research grant application, or for the personal grandeur of being recognized by "The Filter" and linked by the hypothetical "Network Museum."

As for the idea that artists or museums can or should be involved in finding new ways to use the Internet, I can think of no other period in art where such a question needed to be addressed with such aggression or vigor. Art has been a reflection of how utility has failed to meet real needs, and has served as an abstract means to educate on an ethical level and on a level of social justice. Do we need to look to art for ways to increase dialogue on a global scale? Does provincial art require an international presence? Finally, is there an emotional ounce of responsibility left in artists to improve the countryÕs education, when art classes are being cut from elementary school curriculums? Perhaps it is important when asking this question, to ask another: when the term "education" is thrown around in the Western realm of progress, to whose benefit is that education geared? Has education been redefined to mean "learning a trade?"

Both the Walker Art CenterÕs Steve Dietz and the San Francisco MoMAÕs David Ross have outlined very industrious criteria for Net Art. For all the exegesis, counter-pointing, and critical analysis of the museumÕs role, all of them could be accepted as fine noble and ethical causes for the promotion of Net Art with inarguably good intentions. Yet they rehash the same type of backward utopian thinking that Price explains in her assessment of the Universality Principle. They are to the benefit of the Western World of Capitalism, and have little to do with the global agenda they ascribe, and less to do with historic preservation. Moreover, all are completely unnecessary, and are already addressed by most any popular search engine on the World Wide Web--if that will be the museumÕs Internet flavor of choice. Most every Web Search Utility has some banal form of "chat room" accessible the world over by anyone owning a computer and having Internet access. Most every search engine can also recognize the word "art" and can point to an unimaginable number of artistsÕ home pages within seconds. As for increased education, with the grotesque amount of advertising that is prostituted by the InternetÕs World Wide Web, it is mildly appalling to suggest that the future of education lies here. (n.b. McDonalds ads in American elementary school textbooks)

Unfortunately, the Grecian desire for immortal glory that Seward writes about is a very real phenomena, and the museum can provide this to artists who have little commercial viability, because the museum is a venue that does not directly exist on the salability of art. But this glory has a cost, unfortunately, that is paid for by a culture that had no prior interest in glory. No consensus of Internet art is solicited, and most Internet art that is not "browser based" is overlooked. This glory assumes that the success of a given field of research is measured by the amount institutional exposure it receives. Historical interests are not driving this exposure so much as they are driven by meeting the demands of private industry. And by this logic, we are witnessing a shift in the focus of the museum from a place where historical research is made available to the public to a place where entertainment oriented "museums" are propagated by the industrious backing of private enterprise. So even the Grecian desire for immortal glory is a subverted notion when it is clear that the museum--the myth--is more important than the hero.

Reminders of the effects of westward expansionism are never far away. Most states still have a reservation or two that you can visit and understand how European ancestors in the United States treated a native reactionary culture that did not want to leave. The vision of the future for Net Art is gifted several "defined parameters" by the museum that have ideological and utopian beliefs, but are still "defined parameters." Put another way, this sounds like "limited freedoms," even though it is discussed in the interest of debate by learned notable theorists, educators, and museum personalities. We can justify this, as Steve Dietz has done, by claiming that the vast amount of freedom existing on the Internet makes art "hard to find." We can say that channeling that energy toward ideological and utopian notions of progress will benefit all of us. We can probably even agree, to a point, that some of it is "relevant" to a very specific historical discussion while some of it is not. This does not change the fact that a culture is being examined by western dictators of culture who assume ownership and limit freedoms to suit their needs. In 1838, when Yankee ships and wagon trains descended on the New Mexico Republic, and the Spanish told them "La casa es suya" ("The house is yours") in a gesture of their cultural generosity, the Western expansionists took them literally. By 1849, when the United States finally announced that California was "admitted," most of these original Spanish residents were evicted or given mortgages to pay. When the question of survival enters into a discussion, (as it has both from the artists and the "brick-and-mortar" temple of the museum) there is only one foreseeable course for the future.