We’re all being watched. Whether it’s Google Analytics watching where we choose to spend our time on the Internet, or more malicious forms of spyware scanning for the input of valuable data, it’s always taking place in some way. Even written records can prove to be dangerous and always subject to the gaze of outsiders. Adam One is highly aware of this monitoring, which is reflected in the way in which he chooses to run the God’s Gardeners. For instance, written records are forbidden, and there is only one laptop available, concealed by the Adams and Eves. This is an extension of the fear that every middle schooler has, that someone will read their sincerest innermost thoughts (usually in the form of a diary, or in my day, a blog on Xanga), but with actual real-world ramifications. Besides exposing us to harm, there’s a sense of discomfort associated with exposing our inner lives to the world. Both within the world of Oryx and Crake and our real world, artists utilize that discomfort to evoke feelings in viewers.
This is demonstrated in Oryx and Crake with the lifecaster Anna K., who broadcasts every aspect of her life on the Internet. For Crake and Jimmy this is just part of their illicit titillating Web crawls, but the tasks she performs while streaming are more elaborate than expected: “tweezing her eyebrows, waxing her bikini line, washing her underwear.” These are somewhat mundane tasks, which are almost embarrassing in a way – revealing the things that women must do to make themselves presentable (plucking of body hairs), things that humanize women and reveal how odd these rituals are. This is probably why Jimmy was so entranced with Anna K. – for a teenager, especially, it is novel to get these glimpses into a woman’s life.
Jennifer Ringley was one of the first lifecasters, and likely who Margaret Atwood modeled Anna K. after. Between 1996 and 2003, Ringley streamed her entire life on JenniCam.com, starting from her dorm room at Dickinson College to her apartment in Sacramento. Like with Anna K., this included glimpses of nudity and she would keep the webcam on even as she participated in sexual acts. Although Jennifer did not view JenniCam as an art project, it was, like Anna K., an uncensored contrast to the ways in which women are typically presented (sanitized, unblemished, etc.).
Countless other artists have played with the concept of surveillance. For instance, Jill Magid’s “Evidence Locker,” a work of performance art, consisted of her walking around Liverpool in a bright red trench coat. Various police cameras would watch her, and Magid collected around eleven hours of CCTV footage. Magid had to file police requests to retrieve the footage, and which she filled out as if she were writing letters to a lover. Magid’s choices are a little different from Ringley’s and Anna K.’s – the latter two created their own avenues to share their private lives, while Magid chose to highlight how the government peers in at us, without us noticing.
I think it’s a little interesting that many of these artists toying with these concepts are female, because malicious groups on the Internet so frequently target women. In JenniCam’s early days, Ringley received death threats from teenage hackers. However, when I think about it more, I see where these artists are coming from – they’re writing their own narratives, taking over the male gaze and its way of glossing over the unpleasant parts.
That said, it must be exhausting to keep this up. Ringley ended JenniCam after having to deal with the fallout from carrying out an affair, visible to public scrutiny. I’m sure, with time, Anna K.’s operation would be over as well.
