Archive for the ‘insect media’ Category

Modern Weekly Insect Media

September 23, 2014 Leave a comment

There’s an interview with me in the new issue of Modern Weekly (Shanghai) thanks to Paul Feigelfeld’s apt questions and incisive comments. The chat focuses on insect media, animals and technological culture. We are working on an edited and extended English version too.


Categories: China, insect media

Insect Media: Introduction

April 29, 2014 1 comment

I’ve uploaded  the Introduction-chapter of Insect Media online on! More info on the book, as before, on University of Minnesota Press website. If you want a quick glimpse into the arguments of the book, some reviews online include Jacob Gaboury’s in Rhizome and Jennifer Gabrys’ in Mute.

A short blog post on “What is Insect Media?” gives a  condensed glimpse into some of the themes. For a more popular take, see what Wired wrote about the book.

insect media cover

Understanding Media: McLuhan 50 years Later

March 10, 2014 4 comments

The new issue of Journal of Visual Culture is a celebration of Marshall McLuhan. The Canadian media theorist’s classic book, Understanding Media: Extensions of Man, was published 50 years ago and editor Raiford Guins asked several writers to remember the book with a very short text. The texts in the issue are reactions, variations, recollections and remediations of McLuhan and his themes.


My own text (pp.91-93) was written in Istanbul: a short variation on McLuhan, urban space, weaponization and media environments.

Jussi Parikka: “McLuhan at Taksim Square”

I was carrying a fresh copy of Understanding Media with me on Istiklal Street, Istanbul, alongside people in gas masks and police in riot gear. It no longer felt relevant to write about past experiences of engaging with the book or to reflect on McLuhan as a forerunner of media archaeology. This time I did not want to write about ‘anti-McLuhan’ minor histories of media technologies: the ones that do not take media as extensions of Man but as extensions of the animal – for instance, insects – as their starting point (Parikka, 2010).

Travelling from the Anatolian side of Istanbul with a ferry to Kabatas, the chapter on ‘Weapons’ seemed to strike a chord. Extensive tear-gassing and police operations had turned some parts of the city into something unrecognizable, like in a state of emergency. The events at Gezi Park and its occupation grew from an environmental protest to widespread demonstrations across Turkey. Besides the environmental context, the demonstrations were against the authoritarian measures of the state: excessive tear-gassing, random arrests, and persecution of journalists, spokesmen and – women. In the light of McLuhan one starts to think about the various cultural techniques and media contexts of the events in Istanbul. The usual suspects – social media such as Twitter – were quickly acknowledged as important platforms of knowledge sharing but also for a circulation of the affects of outrage, disbelief and defiance. Online media services seemed to quickly open up a new forum for political discussion, crystallized in the inventive use of hashtags as forms of software literacy. When the mainstream media were airing documentaries on penguins, tweets from Gezi were distributing a whole different set of images about what was happening to public space in Turkey. Tear gas produced its own eerie atmosphere on the streets of Istanbul, which had quickly transformed into policed spaces accessible only with gas masks: a denial of the breath (Sloterdijk, 2009).


Walking up from Kabatas port towards Taksim, one could observe this sort of expansion of the meaning of media. This is where McLuhan is at his best. Media are not only about cinema, television, and radio. We start to see the world as media in itself: roads and surfaces, windows and squares become ways of mediating our relation to time and space. Walls are painted with ad hoc slogans; sprayed with images and words in order to mark a territory but also to leave a trace for the next passerby. The huge letters ‘GAZDOGAN’ referred to the prime minister Tayyip Erdogan and the tear-gas tactics of the government. Not only Facebook walls, but the city walls became quick and dirty media surfaces: I was struck by a photograph of an older Turkish man, in his 70s, drawing the face of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk on the wall. Then he walked to another street corner and drew another face of Mustafa Kemal. It was Kemal who introduced the Latin-based alphabet to Turkey in the 1920s and 1930s: in addition to a Europeanization of Turkey as a way to detach from the writing systems of Arabic and Persian origins, it was also ‘modernization’ in relation to the media technologies of telegraphy and the printing press to which the discrete nature was better suited. The alphabet escorts both a geopolitical orientation as well as entertains a relation to various technological changes not without an effect on our perceptual dispositions.


Atatürk persists as a symbolic reference point for various nationalist protestors: his political heritage nature is remediated as content of chants and demands of political nature. The visual space is not only about figures of Atatürk but also more carnevalistic: penguins (as a reference to mainstream media censorship) are suddenly as popular a source of remix and memes as cats usually are in internet culture. Political expression takes the form of artistic expression: ‘the artist must ever play and experiment with new means of arranging experience, even though the majority of his audience may prefer to remain fixed in their old perceptual attitudes’, writes McLuhan (2001: 276) in the chapter on the telegraph.

The online and the city are paired up in this production of visual resistance, but let’s not get too focused on content. One is struck by McLuhan’s reminder that ‘the city, itself, is traditionally a military weapon, and is a collective shield or armor plate, an extension of the castle of our very skins’ (p. 374). This idea is informative of the role of security, war and the city, but it also misses the point about the past years of security regimes which turn the city into an autoimmune disorder: the inhabitants become the targets of police forces, in relation to global events such as G8/G20 meetings (Renzi and Elmer, 2012), as well as such events as those in Turkish cities. But this autoimmune disease of the city does not extend the skin, but attacks the respiratory organs of people with tear gas. It burns the skin when the chemicals are infused with the water in water cannons. McLuhan is constantly useful as a reminder that media are everywhere, and are able to lock our senses in particular ways – perhaps not in the way that there would be always one dominating media episteme, such as literacy (cf. McLuhan, 2001: 373), but more temporarily as a form of attention management. Instead, there is a constant contestation as to the forms of media power: mainstream television might be producing visions of coldness, like documentaries about penguins, but that feeds back to remediations that expand the time and space of what we mean by media itself.



Renzi A and Elmer G (2012) Infrastructure critical: Sacrifice at Toronto’s G8/G20

Conference. Winnipeg: Arbeiter Ring.

McLuhan M (2001[1964]) Understanding Media. London: Routledge.

Parikka J (2010) Insect Media: An Archaeology of Animals and Technology. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Sloterdijk P (2009) Terror from the Air, trans. A Patton and S Corcoran. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e).


“The Strange Beauty of Media Theory”

I am glad to see that a couple of years after the release of Insect Media, reviews are still coming out. This one was just released in Parallax, and offers a very good insight into the book’s “aesthetics of non-human media where technological as well as biological bodies may be seen as media: relationalities of information transfer, memory, perceptions and affects” (p.108).

Another recent-ish good review that pops to my mind was published in Body & Society, with good critical points about language and anthropocentrism: “Swarms of Technology, Melodies of Life.” Read it too.

Categories: critique, insect media

From Beyond Sterling

Bruce Sterling’s new lovecraftian-digital hype satire short story: “From Beyond the Coming Age of Networked Matter.”

There is no dark side of the moon. In fact, it’s all dark.

““The true reality is mostly darkness,” he intoned. “There is scarcely any light or matter—that’s just the graphic front end for the cosmic code. Most of the cosmic code is Dark Energy and Dark Matter. The stuff we foolishly call ‘reality’ is the cute friendly part with the kid-colored don’t-be-evil Google graphics. The true, actual, cosmic reality is the giant Google network pipes and the huge steel barns full of Google Cloud. It’s vast and alien and terrifying.”

“We have never been human”

“We have never been human: between animality and techne” is the new special issue of Angelaki. It is released just now and features a range of exciting articles – spiderpigthanks to Ron Broglio for his work in getting this edited together.

I wrote a piece with a bizarre title “Insects and canaries” that has a certain sense of hybridity to it. It even started as one word, Insectcanaries (see also, Spiderpig).

More seriously, it is about visual and non-visual cultures of the eco crisis, and aesthetic epistemologies and ontologies of it all. It also elaborates on the term “medianatures” that I have been using recently. An abstract below.

This text focuses on how to think the visual culture of disappearance – more closely, disappearance of animals. It takes as its starting point the Ernst Jünger novel The Glass Bees from 1957 in order to start an excavation into obsolescence, animals and the ecological crisis. The aesthetic themes of visibility/invisibility are entangled with the ecological questions of disappearance and pollution. This sort of media ecological question is unravelled, furthermore, with examples concerning the mass extinction of bees, also discussed in Lenore Malen’s video installation The Animal That I Am (2009–10). In this way, it argues for a media theoretical understanding of the visual culture of ecocrisis as well as the complex question of epistemology of such a visibility/invisibility.

Insect Media Wired

Wired (UK) ran a story about Insect Media, discussing some of the themes of the book but also more widely the topic of animals and technology. Indeed, I don’t think the relation to animals is only metaphorical (who could claim it is when we are thinking of using spider silk for optical fibre communications and computer chips). There are much more interesting things that can be thought about in terms of the ecology of media, nature and subjectivity.

But I don’t think insects are hackers or that we should say that telegraphy is the Victorian email (like Tom Standage hinted at in his book The Victorian Internet).  The connection happens on other levels. There is definitely a historical geneaology of insects, animals, nature and technology, and it ranges from modes of thought concerning technological, scientific culture to the material basis of technology. The fascination with entomology introduced already in the mid 19th century (oh well, and earlier for sure) a mindset which started to see in the microscopic an inspirational realm of movement, communication, sensation, and affect.Image source:

Part of that was carried over into Science Fiction and some trails are to be found in 20th century thoughts concerning architecture, media, technological arts from avantgarde cinema to later embodied media arts and robotics. It ranges from the algorithmic thinking inspired by ant trails, pheromones and collectivities to the visual sphere of animation, at least in the 1980s and artificial life type computer graphics objects with ‘relational intelligence’ of sorts, like boids: flocking behaviour, swarming.

Hence, remember the computer animation pioneer Craig Reynolds’ words:

“I would like to thank flocks, herds, and schools for existing: nature is the ultimate source of inspiration for computer graphics and animation.”

Categories: insect media