In November 1995, GeoCities added the “ Soho and Lofts” neighborhood for the arts.Īround the same time WetCanvas launched, a then-16-year-old Matt Stephens had art ambitions, a computer, and a pirated copy of Photoshop. GeoCities launched soon after, introducing in 1995 the ability to organize personal sites by interest into “ neighborhoods” and “suburbs.” Computer sites could be found in “Silicon Valley,” shopping sites on “Rodeo Drive,” and so on. It allowed images and text to load in a single window, and the masses joined in navigating the wild early web. The first publicly available browser, Mosaic, came in 1993. In 1995, Nettime-a listserv for “cultural producers”-followed, as well as Rhizome in 1996 in one particularly zany “cyberdawg ramble” on Nettime in 1998, Jon Lebkowsky declared that the internet was there to stay, “like rock ‘n roll.” In 1991, two years before the first digital image was uploaded to the web, Wolfgang Staehle, an early net artist, started The Thing as a BBS about art and criticism members traded links, shared gallery announcements, and debated creative and cultural theory. Communities formed out of necessity to help early users surf the boundless web.Īrt discussions even appeared in the primordial text-based internet on Usenet newsgroups, bulletin board systems (BBS), and email listservs. As the internet consolidated, it moved toward homogeneity and passivity, and the internet’s once-vibrant art communities became casualties in social media’s rapid, obliterative rise.īefore advanced search engines, information floated on databases like a string of scattered islands. There are a myriad of reasons people leave platforms-an unfriendly interface outdated design increased spam-but the shift away from tight-knit spaces for collective creativity marks more than just a natural fall in popularity. And more recently, Tumblr, formerly a haven for LGBTQ+ artists, issued a major crackdown on adult content-alienating many creators who found refuge in its sex-positive, queer-friendly environment. DeviantArt-though it remains active-has lost its culture. In the 2010s, users asked on forums if their beloved communities were indeed dead. Users traded dedicated artist communities for major social networks, leaving links to their new Instagram and Facebook accounts on their abandoned profiles. From the gothic underworlds of Breed and Abnormis, to hyper-specific pixel art sites, to larger communities like DeviantArt, the internet presented a breadth of opportunity for all kinds of artists-often of marginalized identities or with artistic interests unrecognized by institutions.Īs digital imaging advanced, the internet expanded into the multimedia universe we have today, and, perhaps paradoxically, its art communities dwindled. Until attention spans became a commodity, the internet was dreamed of as a “bastion for people to direct their own education,” as Charles Broskoski, co-founder of internet bookmarking site are.na, remembers.Īrtists, too, forged communities in the spirit of collaboration and learning. “Otherwise, the algorithm decides you’re not interesting, and will not show your posts to your followers.”īefore big tech shepherded the vast number of online users onto a handful of sleek websites, there was a scrappier internet-where offbeat chat rooms and eccentric niche websites reigned, and carefully crafted “away statuses” were a kind of personal branding-back when you could be away from the internet. “You have to post constantly,” Van Baarle, who got her start in the early aughts on DeviantArt, explained. At least, that’s how illustrator Lois van Baarle describes it. Today, sharing art on social media is like running on a treadmill forever.
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