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Book Review: Art After the End of its Autonomy Moriz Hertel Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen Wolfgang Ullrich’s book Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie (Art After the End of its Autonomy) , published in 2022 by Wagenbach Verlag, is mainly based on the difference between autonomous and post-autonomous art. It is not a purely academic book, but an essayistic volume which shows Ullrich’s thinking. This formal ambiguity, however, casts its shadow on the content. Instead of discussing the term “autonomy” at the beginning of the book, he haltingly pursues it over 173 pages. He places autonomous art very close to the understanding of the avant-garde of the 20 th century, for which autonomy was synonym to authority, meaning the authority of art trying to break with its own history and to find new criteria of evaluation (Ullrich 2022: 41). Those who think of Robespierre now, might as well recall his fate. Because, after as much as 116 pages Ullrich relativises the idea of an absolute autonomy in a main sentence that sounds like a subclause, an absolute autonomy in which “by the way” not even “the earliest advocates for the idea of autonomy”, like Schiller, had truly believed (Ullrich 2022: 116). According to Ullrich, post-autonomous art is in contrast mainly marked by its desire to gain importance by seeking it outside the field of art. To such art Ullrich counts artist-sneakers like the TZ-BS-06 by Takashi Murakami, who entered the field of fashion and commodities, as well as Ai Weiwei’s work Law of the Journey (published first 2017), that engages with the subject of refugees (Ullrich 2022: 10, 128f.). In my opinion, one thing is clear: the attention, artists gain in those other areas, is owed to the respect they earned in the field of art—that implies that those, who turn outwards while neglecting the field of art they come from, are in danger to lose respect there. It should be easy to avoid this risk by deciding to make use of one’s own sources. Ullrich does not regard the development of autonomous art itself as negative—even though the book’s title might suggest otherwise. He gives examples of art with a political message while remaining formally successful, such as Kerry James Marshall’s painting Untitled (Underpainting) from 2018, in which Marshall cleverly intertwines form and content. The title not only hints to his art-historical knowledge—it can be read as a quotation of Concept Art—but also to his technical knowledge. Traditionally, an underpainting was done in gray or brown tones, in order to control the distribution of contrasts. The actual colours were applied later. It is no coincidence that all of Marshall’s depicted figures are black. He combines the assumedly technical necessity with the representation of Black people, who have often been excluded from the museum apparatus, thus conveying his message in a humorous way. It would have been useful to place Marshall within the art historical context, since his practice is situated at the intersection of autonomy and political engagement. This tension is clearly visible when we look at one of the best-known topoi of the art world: l’art pour l’art. Literally it says “art for the art”, meaning “art for art’s sake”. It marks the essence of the modern dispute around artistic autonomy. While realist art like that of Courbet depicted the world as it were, and was political on account of the subjects which did not correspond to the common repertoire, the artists of the l’art-pour-l’art -movement had a different aim. Writers like Flaubert didn’t want to describe reality, but to create reality through their writing (Bourdieu 2010: 157). L’art pour l’art is rather an aesthetic program which, however, is apolitical only at first sight. Just as Musil’s Man without Qualities does have a quality—namely, that he does not have one— l’art pour l’art is not divinely given, but a mechanism of distinction: turning away from a critique explicitly aimed to social reality. Thus, the question of freedom of art is at the same time the question of what it should be free from and what the protagonists of the art want to distinguish themselves from. While the Dada movement, emerging after the First World War, indulged in nihilism, the artists of the Neue Sachlichkeit shortly after were looking for the “new human”. Art is always political, either in form or content, only means and the scale are different. Precisely because of this political relevance, it has its own provision in the German constitution. But not because art is free, according to Article Five of the German Constitutional Law, it enjoys a certain autonomy, but because the authors of the Constitutional Law attributed particular value to art and wanted to protect it from attacks. Freedom of art is not created by the constitution, merely chartered. Artists realise the freedom of art by their actions. The strength of art lies in the fact, that they do this within a cultural and symbolic sphere. Neoliberalism is more and more penetrating and corrupting the arts, however it is bound to fail as long as there are artists who don’t give in to the economic pull of the art market and don’t adapt their work to its structures. The starting point of artistic production is the human being, the combination of body and mind as a repository of knowledge materializing itself in the work of art without being discursive. It isn’t even fully accessible to the artists themselves, and we can only use it in parts. The artist owns a knowledge unknown to themselves. Freedom of art thus lies in the unavailability of one’s own knowledge for everybody. Thus, it is small wonder that the double bind of l’art pour l’art can only be identified from a historical distance. Artists of the 19 th and 20 th century first had to believe in their program, in order to realise it. The opposition of autonomous and post-autonomous art can therefore only be described as inadequate. In Ullrich, time seems to stand still. The connection between autonomous and post-autonomous art stays vague, since he only historicizes the concept of autonomy, without mentioning the avantgarde´s misunderstanding of themselves as the driving force for its development. The two terms stand side by side incoherently, linked only by their common linguistic root. However, the knowledge, that the autonomy of art has always been only relative, regardless of what it proclaimed, opens the possibility to trace the trajectory from autonomous to post-autonomous art. Ullrich’s book began with the claim to follow this trace. The result is, unfortunately, the assertion of a paradigm shift, supported only by examples confirming this claim. The book is undoubtedly clever and raises many questions—like any good book should—however, the author leaves us pretty much alone with them. References Bourdieu, P. (2010). Die Regeln der Kunst (1st ed., 1992). Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Ullrich, W. (2022). Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie . Berlin: Wagenbach. Moriz Hertel , born in Bamberg in 1998, is studying art history for a master's degree and fine arts for a diploma. His current work focuses on olfaction and performative practices. Bildcredits fehlen

Disidentifications, lil cheap and esthetical potentials in the production of gender in trap music Jonna Sophie Baumann Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen Practising my art I collect heteronormative as well as cisnormative codes from the worlds of trap music and pop culture to reinterpret them in a queer way. In this text, I will connect my artistic approach with general considerations on what kind of aesthetic potentials contemporary trap music has for queer art. To do this, I will present the conceptual approach of the music of my alter ego, lil cheap , and relate it to its mediating aspect. Furthermore, I will try to deduct and critically place my position as white female rapper in relation to the appropriation of Black culture and I will examine the limits within which productive appropriation and queer disidentification (according to José Esteban Muñoz) of trap is possible in relation to my own work and which aesthetic and disidentificatory potentials can be found in trap in general. Disidentifications are productive appropriations of aesthetics, cultural logics or mechanisms which in themselves produce exclusions. Disidentification offers many possibilities for intervention, because by appropriation, agency is gained, although what has been appropriated, constrained this very agency before. Heteronormative, cisnormative and monogamous ideals still dominate the field of trap music, combined with open misogyny and hostility to queer people. However, there is the possibility of disidentification and a détournement (as proposed by the Situationist International). This means reversing the meaning and disempowering the prevailing image regime by deliberately misusing it and turning it against itself. According to Muñoz disidentification plays an identity-forming and essential meaning for those who are punished by the dominant society for deviating from the assumed norm (Muñoz 1999: 4). The author argues that every individual has complex and partly conflicting approaches to identity. However, it is easier to form an identity as a member of the dominant society (ibid.: 5). Members of the so- called minorities would form their identity in opposition to the logics of heteronormativity, white supremacy and misogyny, “cultural logics, which in my opinion, support the state power” (ibid.). Muñoz talks about the minority counterpublics, which form new social relations. The contradiction which underlies the fundamental criticism of identity by simultaneously using it in queer politics and activism can be found in many parts of queer theory. “One works at the same time with, on and against a hegemonic identity” (Muñoz, cited in Susemichel/Kastner 2020: 124). Permanent development of identities and terms is inherent to queerness, says Laufenberg (2022: 13). That implies that queerness, and what the term describes or tries to achieve, might mean something completely different in future. Thus, queerness can also be seen as the refusal of fixed identities and as a theoretical tool for the fight against intersectional discrimination. In order to critically evaluate cultural appropriations, it is important to look at the history of Hip-Hop. The systematic disinvestment in predominantly Black and Latinx neighbourhoods in US cities — a policy described as “benign neglect” — played a vital part in the emergence of Hip-Hop as an empowering counterculture (Chang, cited in Jakob 2013: 115). While African American themes were underrepresented in the media, Hip-Hop made it possible to refer to them independently and in relation to one’s own history. Thus sampling of Funk and R&B from the 1960s and 1970s created reference points to Black history. MCs, in addition, recited their own lyrics or honoured other MCs by citing them. This lead to a form of self-referentiality (see Jakob 2013: 140 – 141). Gayatri Spivak’s postcolonial analysis can be applied to Hip-Hop, since subalterns received a voice audible to the dominant society (Jacob 2013: 150). However, Hip-Hop soon went mainstream. Paul Gilroy criticised that as Hip-Hop became more and more commercially successful, it also lost its oppositional force, and the History of the marginalized positions became mere routine. “Those claiming the marginality of Hip-Hop should first explain, where in their opinion the centre lies today” (ibid.: 155). lil cheap is a German musician and the alter ego of the author of this text. In addition to music she works with performance, installation and video, while pushing the possibilities of the trap-genre to explore her own trans* identity. While her music isn’t exclusively trap, it is mainly influenced by it. lil cheap steals her beats from the internet, and records her songs with her mobile and inexpensive wired headphones without mixing or mastering them. She releases her songs on “SoundCloud” without label, where she has a small audience. Her first album, Risse with 29 songs, was published on April 26, 2022. December 13, 2023 she gave her first concert. Since then she further developed her live performance and her sound to multi-layered autotuned emotionality. The three latest EPs Zoo , afterhours and Buffy she recorded together with the rapper sadslavicslut. They already performed several concerts together. The musician’s name also emphasises the speed of the procuction process, while the lyrics remind of casually drawn diary entries. Only some few beats are self- produced experimentally, the rest is taken from trap-oriented producers. The production mechanisms in rap have developed into a “high speed dialectical network in which producers consume and consumers produce“ (Jakob 2013: 132). Consumption as well as production of music exist simultaneously side by side. This is evident in the many cover songs of lil cheap and sadslavicslut, which are closer to experimental pop than to trap. lil cheap ’s lyrics are about relations, love, heartache, sadness, the strain of chronic illness, insecurities and other intensive inner processes. They are marked by an “everyday poetry” using surroundings and scenery metaphorically for inner processes. At the same time, lil cheap serves as experimental space for gender identity. Long before her own trans* awakening, she made queer desires a topic and, for example, wore dresses and skirts in her videos. Later she sings: „Ich bin dead, du bist daddy / baby fick mich in deinem Caddy“ (I am dead and you are daddy / baby, fuck me in your caddy) ( daddy , 2024). In the music video IM NACKEN ( 2023) she sits in skirt and cropped top on the bonnet of an old VW Golf with Polish number plates, smoking. In the background, a half decayed factory can be seen, while she sings in a heavy autotune: „Die Sucht sitzt dir im Nacken wie süße kleine Äffchen / Im Innenfutter des Jacketts wartet die zerknüllte Wut / Appetitlosigkeit / Du kratzt dir die Armbeugen blutig“ (Addiction breathing down your neck like sweet little monkeys / Crumpled rage waiting in the lining of your jacket / No appetite / Scratching the crook of your arms until they bleed.) The introspection between welcoming and numbing feelings reminds of the stereotype of sad emo SoundCloud rappers taking too many drugs. Her fascination for the art of music videos led her to produce video installations and make music a topic within her visual art. The self-referetial connection of art with music, and their mutual mediation can best be illustrated through the seven-channel video installation cheap chapel (2024). In this video installation lil cheap creates a sacral trap chapel for herself. Monitors are mounted on the wall in form of a Christian cross and – with the help of two LED spotlights – throw an altar-like shadow. Beside a rustic shelf is mounted on the wall, bearing the laser-engraved inscription “Heilige Mutter Gottes, lass meine Trapkarriere wahr werden”. (Holy Mother of God, let my trap career come true). This installation reminds of catholic churches or chapels and it is at the same time a prayer and a protest. The mediation of music through art shows lil cheap’s real priority: she wants to be a trap star and become famous. According to Mona Marijke Jas, artistic art mediation is a form of mediation “from art” (Sturm, cited in Jas 2021: 64). Visitors to the video installation cheap chapel are supposed to perceive themselves as creative individuals, capable of developing an “aesthetic mentality” (Maset, cited in Jas 2021: 63). Mediation is moreover focused on systemic and situational aspects: it addresses political frameworks and institutional critique. Performativity and speech-act theory according to Butler are an integral part of mediation (ibid.: 65). In lil cheap’s works, performative speech acts take the form of repeated text passages exploring the open-ended transition of her own identity. This refers to the above mentioned openness of queerness as a theoretical tool. According to Jas, another quality of artistic art mediation is deconstruction, where uncertainties and contradictions are emphasised in social mediation processes. Lil cheap , too, evades unambiguousness (ibid.: 66). Experienced knowledge and minoritarian knowledge play an important part in artistic art mediation, since art research (which has much in common with artistic art mediation) is, according to Jas, not hypothesis-driven, but guided by experience (ibid.: 70). Lil cheap’s position as trans* woman enables her to make music and art from her specific position as well as to mediate art. Another very direct form of mediation is the concert, where her listeners are additionally confronted with the “ambiguity” of her trans* body. This means the deconstruction of cisnormative body ideas. The visibility that comes with these performances, is kind of a double-edged sword for a trans* woman. Trans* women who are not perceived as cis, experience violence from the dominant society, while political visibility (also in art), is becoming more and more important. Hip-Hop is a genre of broken taboos, thus it is natural to extend it to often tabooed queer themes. Lil cheap ’s taboo breaks are less provokative within an artistic context, however, explicit lyrics have an empowering potential. From a self-critical perspective, it should be noted, that the appropriation of Black culture in the music of lil cheap should be discussed more and that the respect for Black culture could be more pronounced. Also, payment should be made for the beats. Considering the appropriation of various aspects of Hip-Hop we can’t draw any general conclusions, since this depends heavily on the specific context. For a member of the “dominant culture” it is not impossible to appropriate elements from a “minoritarian” culture, however, it should be done with explicit respect and reference to the source. In cases, where profit is generated, the members of the minoritarian culture should get a share. Furthermore, the limits people suffering by racism, should, of course, be respected. Lil cheap appropriates parts of hegemonial masculinity, but also from Black culture. Disidentification is ”easiest” when elements from the dominant culture or with discriminating straits are appropriated from a minoritarian position. As soon as (mutually) intersecting axes come into the play, it is getting more complicated. Can I, as a white trans* woman appropriate Doechiis confident femininity in a disidentificational way, because she is a cis female rapper? In this case discriminations shouldn’t be weighed up against each other, and the different positions have to be carefully considered. But cis female confidence, revealing outfits and nudity can very well be appropriated and reinterpreted in a trans* way. In a disidentificatory sense, it would be easiest to appropriate the position of a white German, cis male schlager singer or of Alice Weidel, in reference to Vaginal Davis’ personification of the racist Clarence (cf. Munoz 1999: 103). So, what are the aesthetic and subversive potentials in the construction of gender in trap? Trans* people can negotiate the transition of their identity — rap is a good medium to articulate minoritarian experiences. Furthermore, the sampling of cultural products from one’s own history can serve as an important tool to visualize oppressive conditions and working towards liberation from them. In concerts or music videos, it is possible to break body ideals in a disidentificatorial way. As a performative speech act rap has in addition the potential to reinterpret identities in an open-ended and self-determined way. Jonna Sophie Baumann, aka lil cheap , is a free artist and musician currently studying as a postgraduate student at the HGB Leipzig with Anna Ehrenstein. She organises music workshops for trans* femmes, a sculpture symposium for German-Czech exchange, and is part of numerous exhibitions and concerts. Her practice ranges from video installation and performance to mediation and sculpture. Literature Jakob, A. (2013). To the 5 boroughs: Hip hop as a cultural movement in New York City . Marburg: Tectum. Jas, M. M. (2021). Mit Kunstvermittlung die Welt verändern? Hildesheim: Universitätsverlag Hildesheim. Laufenberg, M. (2022). Queere Theorien zur Einführung . Hamburg: Junius. Muñoz, J. E. (1999). Disidentifications: Queers of color and the performance of politics . Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Seeliger, M. (2013). Deutscher Gangstarap: Zwischen Affirmation und Empowerment. Berlin: Posth. Susemichel, L., & Kastner, J. (2020). Identitätspolitiken: Konzepte und Kritiken in Geschichte und Gegenwart der Linken (2nd ed.). Münster: Unrast. “cheap chapel” (2024), seven-channel video installation, Courtesy of the artist „Heilige Mutter Gottes“ (2024), 82 cm x 20 cm, laser engraving on wood, courtesy of the artist

Editorial Benno Hauswaldt, Martin Krenn Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen At first glance, the term “influence” seems to be broad, vague and kind of arbitrary, since it can be applied ton early any area of society. However, the question of which kinds of influence people today are exposed to, and which new forms of influence are becoming more and more important, is particularly interesting, because the global, parallel processes of fascisation and digitalisation today reach all areas of social life. The speed at which nearly every aspect of life is increasingly being shaped and controlled by technology and algorithms makes a critical reflection necessary. This refers to both socio-technological influence on art, culture, politics, economy and society as well as conversely the impact these have on technological and social processes. A synergy of capitalism, digitalisation and artificial intelligence contributes to the market capitalism of a small group of global IT companies who aim it is to maximise the circulation of data. Users support this development “voluntarily” by disclosing their data, permanently producing new content and rating other users. In addition, the development of AI makes it increasingly difficult to distinguish between human and AI-generated content. In this context, it is nearly always unnoticed, whose mainly supports the development of artificial intelligence: the invisibilised data labour of millions of people worldwide. Precariously employed and underpaid workers are forced to view, sort and mark large quantities of data sets, so that the machines can “understand” them. Simultaneously, so-called shadow libraries violate and use author’s rights without their consent, to provide material for large language models. These data sets are then used to train AI-systems. Corporation outsource this work out to people who—on account of their political or economic circumstances—have little other choice. The belief in a positive future, in progress and global democratisation held by the pioneers of internet, has been replaced by dystopic visions of the future and scenario marked by escapism. With the help of right-wing and far-right propaganda, spreading through the echo chambers of social media into the mainstream discourse, global justice movements, anti-discrimination initiatives and socially engaged segments of the civil society are being systematically discredited by for example labelling them as naïve, “woke” or as expressions of supposed moral do-goodism. Based on a nostalgically marked and backward-looking ideology sexism, antisemitism, racism and other forms of oppression are being legitimised. The will to change and to create a just society is to be stifled right in the beginning. At this point it is important to ask, where art still can have an impact today, how in the time of multiple global crises and ever less public funding it can be able to initiate aesthetic and political changes. Art that denies the current imperative of speed and immediacy and that is complex, unspectacular and contradictory while demanding time and attention from its audience, finds it increasing difficult to survive within the current attention economy. Whether, how and where art and art mediation can create meaning and have influence on social, political and cultural issues in spite of all this, is one of the central questions of this issue. Nina Franz shows in her contribution, that the forms of algorithm governance and control should not be seen as an entirely new phenomenon, but need to be placed into a historical and critical context. The essay looks at the psychological programmes of control, power and influence, particularly based on the example of Hugo Münsterberg’s psychotechnics. With her own memories and experiences as a starting point. Marie-France Rafael reflects on how the “society of the spectacle” has changed and a colonisation of our desire has taken place by our exposure to social media. She examines the economy of desire and the regime of visibility created by feedback and reaction systems of our digitally shaped present from a media-historical perspective. Malin Kuht refers to the programme of cyberfeminist currents around 2000, that tried to link emancipatory and abolitionist approaches productively to an affinity for technology. Various thinking collectives tried to reach a symbiosis which might have been prophylactic then but now is necessary. It is precisely this necessity that makes the historical perspective of Kuht even more relevant. Nowadays, most exhibitions are no longer experienced in person, but via a digital formalisation. Within the growing universe of online databases and digital documentation, Gordon Endt looks at some examples for artist databases like NPIECE and ArtFacts to find out what power structures and intransparencys the digital infrastructure brings. Alternative possibilities of digital archiving are explored through the web art project NotFound —a wiki conceived as an artistic project. In her artistic practise, Jonna Sophie Baumann appropriates hetero- and cis-normative codes from trap music and popular culture in order to reinterpret them from a queer perspective. Using her alter ego lil cheap as an example, she examines the aesthetic potential of trap music for queer art and how disidentification, according to José Esteban Muñoz, can function as a productive form of appropriation. Simultaneously, she critically reflects on her position as a white rapper in order to discuss the limits and possibilities of sensitive, queer engagements with Black culture. “I need to move!” The spontaneous exclamation of a child during a workshop at the Kestner Gesellschaft in Hannover provides the starting point for Julia Teubert’s text. It points beyond a mere physical need—to an approach to art mediation that is not planned linearly but responds dialogically to participants and situations. From this processual, resonance-oriented perspective, mediation shifts from schematic explanation towards attentive accompaniment that enables encounter and negotiation without prescribing them. The artist Hye Hyun Kim describes by means of her project Unfolding, Blooming , how collective action within public space emerges on a small scale—in passing, opening and sharing. Encounters with the other, the unfamiliar as well as the familiar strange, but also the familiar, are the focus of her sculptural art. In participatory settings she explores processes of negotiation, consideration and listening. In a time shaped by efficiency and digital logics such artistic practise is of particular relevance. In conversation with Mona Jas, director of the KinderKunstLabor for contemporary art in St. Pölten, Austria, Lucas Yannick Lühr addresses the question of whether and how institutions can develop programmes and offers that are not oriented towards an adult gaze. The focus lies on analysing how social change begins already in mediation and architecture, and how art can exert influence on political, social and cultural issues when we move away from patronising and infantilising adult perspectives. Fiona Jassmann speaks with Johannes Büttner about his artistic discourse with society, production methods and economic living conditions. He is particularly interested in people’s fears, belief systems and forms of organisation. In The Factory (2020), Büttner examines the digital labour market and the self-images of online workers situated between working-class identities and digital entrepreneurship. In Soldaten des Lichts , a film realised together with Julian Vogel, he accompanies protagonists from conspiracy-theory and the so-called Reichsbürger scenes. In his discourse with Wolfgang Ullrich’s book Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie from 2022, Moritz Hertel discusses the proclaimed freedom from influence—the autonomy—of art. From a historical perspective, Hertel questions and comments on the discussion of a paradigm shift from the ideal of autonomous art towards an art increasingly entangled with commerce. Today, it is standard within the humanities, that history is always embedded in relations of power, should be approached from multiple perspectives and needs constant renegotiation in order to make omissions visible. This makes it even more striking that a discipline like art history has relatively little disciplinary reflection on its own history. Following the first volume published in 2021 ( Kunsthistorikerinnen 1910–1980 , Reimer), a second volume appeared in 2025 focusing on that gap: Kunsthistorikerinnen im 20. Jahrhundert – Institutionen, Strukturen, Handlungsräume , reviewed by Benno Hauswaldt. With “influence” as a leitmotiv, the contributions in this issue show that influence does not arise of itself but arises from a complex web of reciprocal relations. The issue explores how artistic and art-mediating processes can be forces of resistance in this context, and how they can provide impulses for a broader social cohesion and a pluralistic, resilient democracy. Benno Hauswaldt, Martin Krenn Editorial of issue 7: Einflussnahme / Taking Influence

Hugo Münsterbergs Technologie der Beeinflussung Nina Franz English abstract Dieser Beitrag beruht auf einem Kapitel meiner Dissertation "Operationalisierung der Wahrnehmung. Soziale Steuerung und Visualität in der frühen angewandten Psychologie" in: Franz: Militärische Bildtechniken, S. 229–280. Eine ausführliche Version erscheint in dem Sammelband Gegenkräfte – Gegenkünste. Widerspenstige Perspektiven der kulturwissenschaftlichen Ästhetik. Hrsg. von Iris Därmann, Sofie Fingado und Andreas Gehrlach und Waldemar Isak. Berlin: Kadmos (erscheint 2026). Nutzer:innen digitaler Plattformen wie Google, Instagram, Facebook und Amazon sind alltäglich mehr oder weniger subtilen Formen algorithmischer Kontrolle ausgesetzt, die, wie Thomas Berns und Antoinette Rouvroy betonen, „auf der automatisierten Anhäufung, Aggregation und Analyse großer Datenmengen basiert und in der Lage ist, Verhalten zu modellieren, zu antizipieren und im Voraus zu beeinflussen“ [1] (Berns/Rouvroy 2013). Die Sozialpsychologin Shoshana Zuboff spricht in diesem Zusammenhang von der Bewirtschaftung von „behavioral surplus“: Interessen, Emotionen und Persönlichkeitsmuster werden zur Ressource für die Extraktion von Daten, auf deren Grundlage sich das Verhalten von Nutzer:innen auf profitable Weise lenken und steuern lässt (Zuboff 2019: 21). Das Bewusstsein für solche Formen der Beeinflussung, für die heute auch Verfahren der prädiktiven künstlichen Intelligenz eingesetzt werden, ist, je nach Wissensstand der Nutzer:innen, kaum oder wenig ausgeprägt. In diesem kurzen Beitrag sollen die heutigen digitalen Technologien der Vorhersage und Beeinflussung von Verhalten in den Kontext einer über hundert Jahre zurückliegenden Geschichte der Psychotechnik gestellt werden. Mit einer selbsternannten Wissenschaft der „seelischen Beeinflussung und Beherrschung“ (Münsterberg 1914: 136) entwarf Hugo Münsterberg in seinen Grundzügen der Psychotechnik aus dem Jahr 1914 ein Programm für die Gestaltung nahezu aller Bereiche des menschlichen Lebens. Münsterbergs Theorien und die Methoden der angewandten Psychologie, die er von seinem Lehrer Wilhelm Wundt in Leipzig gelernt und auf Einladung von William James in dessen psychotechnischen Labor an der Harvard University etabliert hatte, schufen die Basis für die Entwicklung der US-amerikanischen Psychologie – insbesondere für den Zweig der Applied Psychology – sowie der Human Factors Studies und Ergonomie, die experimentalpsychologische Ansätze mit Designaufgaben und technischer Entwicklung zusammenbrachten. Eine aufmerksame Lektüre von Münsterbergs Schriften ist insofern erhellend, als hier ganz unverdeckt und programmatisch Techniken der Menschensteuerung und -beeinflussung entworfen werden, die in enger Verbindung zur Ideologie der Eugenik stehen und auf diese Weise bis heute in Methoden der Technologieentwicklung eingeschrieben sind . [2] Das Programm der Psychotechnik zielte in sozialdarwinistischer Manier so auch zunächst auf die „Auslese“: Auf der einen Seite verstanden als Berufseignungs- und Intelligenztests, durch die – Münsterberg zufolge – sogenannte „misfits“ in Bezug auf die geeignete Beschäftigung oder gesellschaftliche Rolle identifiziert werden sollten. Die Eugenik galt Münsterberg als legitimes Mittel, um „die große Kulturaufgabe zu lösen, die Menschheit von der Last der seelisch Minderwertigen und Schwachsinnigen zu befreien“ (Münsterberg 1914: 277). Das Darwin entlehnte (und im Sozialdarwinismus grundsätzlich missverstandene) Prinzip der „natürlichen“ Selektion verliert in der Psychotechnik alle Natürlichkeit, indem sie in der Auswahl des „am besten Angepassten“ zur Sache einer gestaltenden, technischen Wissenschaft gemacht wird (Münsterberg 1914: V). Es muss als Teil dieses an sich schon düster anmutenden Programms verstanden werden, dass Münsterberg die Psychotechnik darüber hinaus als „Wissenschaft der Beeinflussung und Voraussage“ (Münsterberg 1914: 136) konzipierte, das heißt als eine auf unterschwellige Weise operierende Form der sozialen Kontrolle, die auf der Ebene des Bewusstseins ansetzt: [I]n den mannigfaltigsten Gebieten zeigt sich, daß gewisse Endziele ganz oder teilweise durch psychische Vorgänge erreicht werden können, und es ist die Aufgabe der Psychotechnik, darzulegen, welche geistigen Prozesse dabei in Frage kommen und welche Einflüsse notwendig sind, um das gewünschte Endergebnis zu erreichen. (Münsterberg 1914: 6-7) Wie diese gewissen „Endziele“ zu bestimmen sind, ist nicht das Problem der Psychotechnik. Münsterberg sah sich in dieser Hinsicht einem Prinzip der „Wertfreiheit“ verpflichtet, das sich einem vorgeblich einheitlichen gesellschaftlichen Interesse andiente. Diese „Blindheit gegenüber der impliziten Wertung bei explizit proklamierter Wertfreiheit“ (Rüegsegger 1986: 74) ist auch Gegenstand der teils scharfen Kritik am Selbstverständnis der Angewandten Psychologie in Münsterbergs Nachfolge. In seiner bis heute einschlägigen Monografie zu Münsterbergs Human Science and Social Order (1980) kommentiert Matthew Hale dies, indem er Münsterberg nach Karl Mannheim im „bürokratisch-konservativen“ Spektrum verortet: „[T]he fundamental tendency of all bureaucratic thought is to turn all problems of politics into problems of administration“ (Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia , zit. nach Hale 1980: 9). [3] Münsterberg sah die politische Neutralität seiner Forschung dadurch gewährleistet, dass er lediglich die „praktische Aufgabenerfüllung“ (Münsterberg 1914: 6) zum Fokus seiner Zielsetzungen machte, mit anderen Worten, technische Lösungen für administrative Probleme fand, ohne dabei die Problemstellung selbst zum Gegenstand zu machen. Hale dagegen sieht gerade in Münsterbergs angewandter Psychologie im Zeichen der „Effizienz“ eine Ausweitung der Sphäre der Administration, die die zugrundeliegenden politischen Fragen zum Verschwinden bringt (Hale 1980: 9). [4] Bewusstsein und Wahrnehmung werden in der Psychotechnik als formbare Gegenstände konzipiert, deren Widerstände und Defekte es durch unbemerkte Kontrollvorgänge zu beherrschen gilt. Eine ganze Reihe von Geräten und Apparaturen wurde zu diesem Zweck konstruiert, deren Komplexität und offenkundige (Über-)Beanspruchung durch die menschlichen Testpersonen teils skurrile Züge trug. Tatsächlich waren es gerade die Wirkungen des Bewegtbilds, die den Psychotechniker Münsterberg vor allem faszinierten. Die Versuchsanordnungen in Münsterbergs Experimentallabor boten eine Vielzahl von Beispielen für den Einsatz von Bild-Schirmen (bevor der Bildschirm als technisches Artefakt in der heutigen Form existierte), Leinwänden und anderen Apparaturen, die den Sehsinn als bevorzugten Einsatzort beeinflussender Kontrolle konzipierten (vgl. Bruno 2009: 89). Ein am 7. November 1914 in Münsterbergs Labor in Harvard durchgeführter Versuch wurde in einer Reportage des Cosmopolitan Magazine (Child 1915: 647–649; vgl. Blatter 2015: 73) in Wort und Bild dokumentiert und dramatisiert: The first scientific attempt to ascertain the fitness of men to hold certain positions in the business world has recently been made. […] Therefore, the new idea will possess high interest for every employer, because it suggests a promising means of the elimination of business waste, and for every employee, because it will help to bar the dreaded way to his becoming one of life’s misfits. (Child 1915: 647) Es ist die Gefahr, als „misfit“ in der falschen Beschäftigung zu landen oder als „unfit“ in der Arbeitslosigkeit, für die Münsterbergs Testverfahren in den Augen des Autors der Cosmopolitan -Reportage eine Lösung bot. Die Bewerber für die Anstellung als Handelsreisende bei der American Tobacco Company nahmen an dem neunstündigen Selektionsverfahren teil. Darunter war auch jene Prüfung, der die Reportage ihre eindrückliche Illustration verdankte (Abb. 2): Die Probanden wurden gebeten, vor einer Glasplatte zu stehen und nicht zu blinzeln, während der Versuchsleiter auf Höhe des Gesichts mit einem Gummihammer auf das Glas einschlug, wodurch die Fähigkeit zur Kontrolle „instinktiver Impulse“ (Münsterberg 1914: 53) messbar werden sollte. Münsterbergs Schrift The Photoplay aus dem Jahr 1916 gilt als erster Versuch einer Theorie des Kinos. Im Kino sah er nicht nur eine neue Kunstform, sondern ein wirkungsvolles psychotechnisches Instrument, das gerade deshalb so effektiv sei, da im Film „kein Mangel an Mitteln besteht“, mit denen „unser Bewusstsein im rapiden Spiel der Bilder gelenkt und beeinflusst werden kann“ (Schweinitz 1996: 53). Der oder die Kinogänger:in erschien Münsterberg als „passive Entität, deren Geisteshaltung auf subtile Weise durch externe Stimuli manipuliert werden kann“ (Langdale 2002: 22). Am filmischen Mittel des Close-ups zeigte sich für ihn wie nirgendwo sonst der Effekt der Aufmerksamkeitssteuerung, da dem menschlichen Auge bei der Fokussierung auf das vergrößerte Detail gar keine andere Wahl bleibe, als die Aufmerksamkeit dorthin lenken zu lassen, wo das Leinwandbild es vorsieht. [ 5 ] Vier Jahre nach Münsterbergs Tod – in dem 1920 erschienenen Essay Jenseits des Lustprinzips – führte Freud in eine psychoanalytische „Lehre vom Schock“ (Freud 1967: 29; 32 f.). Im Kern seines Arguments liegt die Erkenntnis, dass es zu den „Aufgaben“ des seelischen Apparats zähle, traumatische Wahrnehmungsereignisse bzw. „große Reizmengen“ zu bewältigen und zu binden, die über ihn hereinbrechen und dabei so stark sind, dass sie dessen „Reizschutz“ durchbrechen (Freud 1967: 29). Gelinge dies nicht, resultiere dies in einer traumatischen Neurose, bei der das Ereignis ins Unbewusste verdrängt werde. Interessanterweise treten bei Freud die Bewusstseinsvorgänge in eine Analogie zum Bild, das einen Ausleseprozess durchlaufen muss, um wahrgenommen zu werden – in genauer Umkehrung der Münsterberg’schen Filmtheorie, bei der die Bilder von außen über die vermeintlich völlig widerstandslos ins Bewusstsein projiziert werden. Freuds psychoanalytische Theorie eines Reizschutzes, der den von außen hereinbrechenden Wahrnehmungsereignissen Widerstand leistet und sich gegen diese abhärtet, wird Walter Benjamin wiederum einige Jahre später zu der Beobachtung veranlassen, dass in der Großstadt des 20. Jahrhunderts „die Technik […] das menschliche Sensorium einem Training komplexer Art“ (Benjamin 1991c: 614, 630; vgl. Därmann 2013: 180–181) unterworfen habe. Ähnlich Münsterbergs Berufsanwärter:innen, wird von modernen Großstädter:innen erwartet, dass sie sich von den auf sie einprallenden Wahrnehmungsreizen nicht erschrecken lassen. Die spezifische Organisationsform der Sinneswahrnehmung und „das Medium, in dem sie erfolgt“, sind für Benjamin bekanntlich „geschichtlich bedingt“ (Benjamin 1991a: 439 ). [6] Als zeitgenössisches Massenmedium ist das Kino folglich „die der gesteigerten Lebensgefahr, der die Heutigen ins Auge zu sehen haben, entsprechende Kunstform“ (Benjamin 1991a: 439). Das Bedürfnis, sich den Wirkungen des Schocks auszusetzen, sei „eine Anpassung der Menschen an die sie bedrohenden Gefahren“. Der Film entspreche den „tiefgreifenden Veränderungen des Apperzeptionsapparates, […] wie sie im geschichtlichen Maßstab jeder heutige Staatsbürger erlebt“ (Benjamin 1991b: 503). Benjamin kritisiert die frühe Filmtheorie, vermutlich auf Münsterbergs Photoplay anspielend, für ihre „blinde Gewaltsamkeit“, mit der sie den Film unbedingt als „Kunst“ etablieren wollte. Er selbst erkennt im Film vielmehr eine Veränderung, die allerdings ebenfalls dem Umfeld Münsterbergs zugeschrieben werden muss, die nämlich die „Aufstellung prüfbarer, ja übernehmbarer Leistungen unter bestimmten gesellschaftlichen Bedingungen“ erstrebe und aus der sich daher „eine neue Auslese, eine Auslese vor der Apparatur“ ergebe (Benjamin 1991a: 455). Während die „Leistungspsychologie“, zu der die Berufsauswahlprüfungen und andere auf Selektion zielende Experimente zählen, diese „Fähigkeit der Apparatur zu testen“ illustriere, zeige die Psychoanalyse diese „von anderer Seite“ (Benjamin 1991a: 498). Während Benjamin wie Münsterberg den Film mit einer Testapparatur analogisiert und im Film und „seiner Chockwirkung“ das Übungsinstrument für die historisch „neuen Aufgaben der Apperzeption“ erkennt (Benjamin 1991b: 505), ermöglicht ihm seine Freud-Lektüre, im „optischen Unbewussten“ ein Analogon des Triebhaft-Unbewussten der Psychoanalyse zu sehen, das jene großen Teile der Wirklichkeit enthält, die „außerhalb eines normalen Spektrums der Sinneswahrnehmungen“ (Benjamin 1991a: 461) liegen und erst mit den Mitteln der Aufnahmeapparatur zutage befördert werden können. Er scheint implizit auf Münsterberg zu antworten, wenn er gerade der Großaufnahme eine „Sprengkraft“ zuspricht, wo diese doch bei Münsterberg eben wegen ihrer bezwingenden, kontrollierenden Wirkung auf die Wahrnehmung erwähnt wird. Benjamin wiederum konstatiert, dass die Großaufnahme zwar „auf der einen Seite die Einsicht in die Zwangsläufigkeiten vermehrt, von denen unser Dasein regiert wird“, auf der anderen – psychoanalytisch informierten – Seite jedoch auch dazu dienen könne, dass der Mensch sich „eines ungeheuren und ungeahnten Spielraums“ bewusst werde: Unsere Kneipen und Großstadtstraßen, unsere Büros und möblierten Zimmer, unsere Bahnhöfe und Fabriken schienen uns hoffnungslos einzuschließen. Da kam der Film und hat diese Kerkerwelt mit dem Dynamit der Zehntelsekunden gesprengt, so daß wir nun zwischen ihren weitverstreuten Trümmern gelassen abenteuerliche Reisen unternehmen. (Benjamin 1991a: 461) Wenn sich für Münsterberg, trotz aller Bewunderung, die er für die kreativen Möglichkeiten des Films empfand, dessen massenpsychologisches Potenzial in einer bevormundend gehorsam machenden Pädagogik erschöpfte, so liegt dieses Potenzial für Benjamin gerade in der befreienden Wirkung einer „therapeutischen Sprengung des Unbewussten“ (Benjamin 1991a: 462), die erst die kollektiven Träume des Kinos ermöglichen. So wie Freuds frühe Patientin Anna O., hinter der sich die spätere Frauenrechtlerin Berta Pappenheim verbarg, die hypnotische Suggestion Freuds verweigerte und damit der Psychoanalyse auf die Spur half (vgl. Därmann 2021: 14–15), so ist es nach Benjamin an den Filmzuschauer:innen, sich der filmischen Suggestion zu widersetzen, um die Potenziale und Gegenkräfte des „optischen Unbewussten“ freizusetzen. Inwiefern die algorithmischen Prozesse der Beeinflussung von Nutzer:innenverhalten, die gegenwärtig in großem Maßstab die digitalen sozialen Netzwerke bestimmen, mit den Ursprüngen einer (Psycho-)Technologie der Beeinflussung nach Münsterberg in Verbindung stehen, kann nicht klar beantwortet werden. In den heutigen Technologien finden sich allerdings Residuen der Ideologien von sozialer Steuerung, technokratischer Ordnung und dem marktförmig gewendeten Recht des Stärkeren, die schon in Münsterbergs sozialdarwinistischem Denken angelegt waren. Ein Bewusstsein für die historischen Zusammenhänge, in denen erstmals im psychologischen Labor die Steuerung menschlichen Verhaltens erprobt wurde, kann allerdings den Blick auf heutige Entwicklungen scharfstellen. Wenn Münsterberg im Kino nichts als ein Medium der unbewussten Verhaltenssteuerung sah, identifizierte Benjamin darin gerade das „Dynamit“ zur Sprengung eines „optischen Unbewussten“. Analog dazu stellt sich die Frage, mit welchen Mitteln heute die Sprengkraft eines „algorithmischen Unbewussten“ mobilisiert werden kann, das in der Lage wäre, sich den Suggestionen der prädiktiven Technologien im Zeitalter algorithmischer Kontrolle zu widersetzen. Literatur Benjamin, Walter, 1991a. Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit (1. Fassung/1935). In: Rolf Tiedemann / Hermann Schweppenhäuser (Hrsg.), Walter Benjamin: Abhandlungen. Gesammelte Schriften, Band 1.2., S. 431–469. Frankfurt a. M. Benjamin, Walter, 1991b: Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit (3. Fassung/1939). In: Rolf Tiedemann / Hermann Schweppenhäuser (Hrsg.): Walter Benjamin: Abhandlungen. Gesammelte Schriften, Band 1.2., S. 471–508. Frankfurt a. M. Benjamin, Walter, 1991c. Über einige Motive bei Baudelaire. In: Rolf Tiedemann / Hermann Schweppenhäuser (Hrsg.), Walter Benjamin: Abhandlungen. Gesammelte Schriften, Band 1.2., S. 605–654. Frankfurt a. M. Berns, Thomas / Rouvroy, Antoinette, 2013. Algorithmic governmentality and prospects of emancipation Disparateness as a precondition for individuation through relationships?, übers v. Elisabeth Libbrecht. In: Réseaux 177, 163–196. URL: https://shs.cairn.info/journal-reseaux-2013-1-page-163?lang=en Blatter, Jeremy, 2015. Screening the Psychological Laboratory: Hugo Münsterberg, Psychotechnics, and the Cinema, 1892–1916. In: Science in Context 18 (1), 53–76 Blatter, Jeremy, 2014. The Psychotechnics of Everyday Life: Hugo Münsterberg and the Politics of Applied Psychology, 1887–1917. Dissertation, Harvard University. URL: http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:12274284 . Bruno, Giuliana, 2009. Film, Aesthetics, Science: Hugo Münsterberg’s Laboratory of Moving Images. In: Grey Room 36, 88–113 Child, Richard Washburn, 1915. The Man-Screen. In: Cosmopolitan Magazine 58, 647–649 Därmann, Iris, 2013. Elemente einer Ästhetik der Gewalt: Masochistisch – heroisch – traumatisch“. In: Emmanuel Alloa (Hrsg.): Erscheinung und Ereignis. Zur Zeitlichkeit des Bildes, S. 165–182. Leiden Därmann, Iris, 2021. Widerstände. Gewaltenteilung in statu nascendi. Berlin Freud, Sigmund, 1967. Jenseits des Lustprinzips. In: Anna Freud u. a. (Hrsg.): Gesammelte Werke, Bd. XIII. Frankfurt a. M. Hale, Matthew, 1980. Human Science and Social Order. Hugo Münsterberg and the Origins of Applied Psychology. Philadelphia Kittler, Friedrich, 1993. Draculas Vermächtnis. Leipzig Langdale, Allan, 2002. S(t)imulation of Mind: The Film Theory of Hugo Münsterberg. In: ders. (Hrsg.), Hugo Münsterberg on Film. The Photoplay: A Psychological Study and other Writings, S. 1–43. New York Marx, Karl, 2012. Ökonomische und philosophische Manuskripte aus dem Jahre 1844. Marx Engels Werke, Band 40, S. 467–589. Berlin Moser, Jeannie / Christina Vagt (Hrsg.), 2018. Verhaltensdesign. Technologische und ästhetische Programme der 1960er und 1970er Jahre. Bielefeld Münsterberg, Hugo, 1914. Grundzüge der Psychotechnik. Leipzig Ryan, Patrick J., 1997. Unnatural Selection. Intelligence Testing, Eugenics and American Political Cultures. In: Journal of Social History 30 (3), 669–685 Rüegsegger, Ruedi, 1986. Die Geschichte der Angewandten Psychologie 1900–1940. Ein internationaler Vergleich am Beispiel der Entwicklung in Zürich. Bern/Stuttgart Schmidgen, Henning, 2008. Münsterberg’s Photoplays: Instruments and Models in his Laboratories at Freiburg and Harvard (1891–1893). In: The Virtual Laboratory, Max Planck Institute for the History of Science, Berlin. URL: http://vlp.mpiwg-berlin.mpg.de/references?id=art71&page=p0003 Schweinitz, Jörg (Hrsg.), 1996. Hugo Münsterberg. Das Lichtspiel. Eine psychologische Studie (1916) und andere Schriften zum Kino, übers. v. Jörg Schweinitz. Wien Vöhringer, Margarete, 2007. Avantgarde und Psychotechnik. Wissenschaft, Kunst und Technik der Wahrnehmungsexperimente in der frühen Sowjetunion. Göttingen Zuboff, Shoshana, 2019. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power. New York: PublicAffairs [1] Alle englischen Zitate, soweit nicht anders gekennzeichnet, übersetzt von Nina Franz. [2] Jeannie Moser und Christina Vagt beschreiben mit dem Begriff des „Verhaltensdesigns“ Ansätze der 1960er- und 1970er-Jahre, die auf „die Programmierung des Verhaltens von Lebewesen, Maschinen und Materialien, von ökonomischen, sozialen und politischen, psychischen wie ästhetischen Phänomenen und Abläufen ebenso wie von Umgebungen und Räumen“ abzielen (vgl. Moser/Vagt 2018). Sie schließen damit unter anderem auch an die hier beschriebene Geschichte der Psychotechnik im frühen 20. Jahrhundert an. [3] Mannheim: Ideology and Utopia, zit. nach Hale: Human Science and Social Order , S. 9. [4] „The historical form taken by particular efficiencies was thoroughly political, and the principle of ‘neutrality’ often masked political motives“ (Hale, 1980: 9). [5] Hier setzt Friedrich Kittlers medientheoretische Rezeption Münsterbergs an, insofern als der Film den Zuschauer:innen „deren eigenen Wahrnehmungsprozess“ sende (Kittler 1993: 103). [6] Daran zeigt sich Benjamins aufmerksame Lektüre der kurz vorher erstmals veröffentlichten Ökonomischen und philosophischen Manuskripte von Karl Marx, wo es heißt, die Bildung der fünf Sinne sei „eine Arbeit der ganzen bisherigen Weltgeschichte“ (Marx: 1844/2012: 542). Abb. 1: Harvard Psychological Laboratory in Dane Hall: Instruments for Experiments on Sight Abb. 2: Fiktionalisierte Darstellung einer Versuchsanordnung Münsterbergs aus einem Bericht des Cosmopolitan Magazine , 1915

The Colonisation of Desires Marie-France Rafael Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen With a bright smile, a woman mops the floor in a large, sunny living room—she mops under the sofa, over various surfaces and pieces of furniture. A close-up shows how dust motes are attracted to the white cloth at the end of the mop as if magnetised. The oversized dust motes try to escape, but finally they realise that they don’t stand a chance and flee from the flat. The woman sends them a triumphant look, and the next cut shows how she easily removes the cloth and throws it into a dustbin. I remember vividly to have watched such advertisements on TV as a child. I was sitting in our living room and, as far as I can remember, every time I ran to my mother — who always seemed to have something or other to do in another room — telling her what I just had seen and trying to convince her to buy this—or any other—product. My mother would then tell me not to believe everything I saw on TV. I, however, was convinced that the advertisement was right. More than that, its influence was so great that—had I been allowed to do so—I had sprinted to the next supermarket to buy the product. What I actually did later, as soon as I was old enough and had my own money—resulting in more or less disappointment. After all, I only need a fraction of all the things I am tempted to buy. Still I find myself being voluntarily influenced again and again. Worse: I knowingly participate in various mechanisms with increasing influence—on our consumerism, on sociopolitical conditions and last but not least on subject constituting processes in general. However, there is a big difference between “then” and “now”—between advertising that was shown on the classic mass media TV and our contemporary digital culture: since the emergence of internet and—even more decisively—the proliferation of smartphones coming with its flood of social-media apps and the increasing prevalence of purely image-based features online, a paradigmatic change in the patterns of our behaviour and the structures of our desire can be observed. This leads to a basic change in the kind of influence technical media nowadays exert. The increasing symbiotic and prosthetic connection between body and smartphone or with digital networks has the effect, that we produce and consume in a mediated way anytime and anywhere. Digital media and its images are an integral part of our everyday practises today, through which we act consciously and by means of which we create actively new, speculative futures. As medially networked individuals, we live in a post-digital and image-based reality, dominated by an endless flood of images via production, circulation and consumption. One characteristic of the new status of mass circulation and procession of images is the role of recipients and producers which has become much more fluid than it was in the age of classical mass media like TV and radio, where roles were still clearly delineated. In the 1060s, Guy Debord described how media worked in his book Die Gesellschaft des Spektakels ( 1967) by using the concept of the “spectacle”. For Debord, the spectacle is marked by a condition in late capitalism in which a “mutual alienation” takes place, which is “the essence and the support of existing society” (Debord 1996a: 6), and in which “everything that was directly experienced” became a remote “representation” (ibid. 3,9) i or rather, where everything becomes a mere representation. In his Kommentare zur Gesellschaft des Spektakels ( 1988), Debord himself describes how the spectacle developed over time, or rather, how its nature changed in order to permeate social life with a new intensity and completeness (cf. Debord 1966b: 189-280, Crary 2014: 64). For Debord, the essential change lay in the development from a “diffuse” (1960) toward an “integrated spectacle” (1980s), “seeking to assert itself globally” (Debor 1966b: 200). According to Debord, the integrated spectacular is at the same time “concentrated and diffuse” (ibid.), since only in this way it can control those parts of society which had hitherto escaped it. That is possible, because it has “integrated itself into reality”, thereby restructuring it from within. Thus, the spectacle is no longer “opposed to reality as something alien”, but it has “merged with reality and contaminated it radioactively” (ibid. 201). In the face of digital technologies and digital networks, the spectacle transformed once more—a change McKenzie Wark describes as “disintegrating spectacle” (Wark 2011: 1117). This means that the spectacle still exists, but now it is fragmented: “Social media and the internet made it microscopic—still centrally controlled, but diffuse, and reproduced and reiterated through fragments” (Wark/Jacques 2013). Within the contemporary digital platform economy, algorithmic systems generate circular spectacle bubbles in which we are no longer mere spectators and/or consumers, but at the same time active producers. And above all, we become objects of consumption. In other words, the self becomes a hybrid figure consisting of a desubjectivized, depersonalised consumer and consumption object, as Jonathan Crary puts it (Crary 2014: 87). He points out that in the context of digital networks we are confronted with a “systemic colonisation of the individual experience”, where it is not most important to “capture the attention by a specific object (a film, a TV-programme or music) […], but its (attention) transformation to repetitive processes and reactions that permanently overlap with viewing or listening” (ibid.: 48). My hypothesis is, that this colonisation does not affect experience alone, it begins already earlier, at the level of desire. The “transformation” Crary means—given a “systemic colonisation of the desire”—a reshaping of desires towards repetitive desire loops. This manifests itself already in the act of reaching for the smartphone which embeds us within a structure of desire. Here, desire does no longer work through the external projection onto unattainable commodities or ideals, but is rather permanently and circularly modulated through algorithmic anticipation. In the face of digital media, we are faced with a new economy of desire. Every reach for the smartphone, every digital image practise, whether posting, liking (even not-liking), lingering longer on one image, scrolling (whether faster or slower), clicking, sharing and further processing of images (to name just a few), is in itself an expression for our embeddedness within a digital, circular structure of desire which is bound up with the gaze. The many shimmering screens determining our everyday life prevent us from perceiving our immediate reality by directing our gaze exclusively towards them. Thus, they work as literal “screens”, shielding our vision and preventing us from truly seeing. These screens reflect the view of the platform and present only those objects of our desire that have been algorithmically calculated. Psychoanalytically spoken, it is always ourselves who are the object of gaze on the screen, where our unconscious desires appear. Jacques Lacan said: “What I see is never what I want to see” (Lacan 2015: 109). But because it appears on the screen, it acquires the character of an image and demands to be processed. The digital technologies provide “real” screens that move the boundary between subjectivity as a part of social and cultural systems and the subconscious as pure subjectivity. Today, I nearly never watch TV. I don`t even own one. But I use my smartphone more often than I would like—even more often than I am willing to admit to myself. I swipe, scroll, tap and post, I share and I like—sometimes without remembering the time that passes while I am in my spectacle loop screening out the reality around me. The essence of our visual culture today is that, in opposition to earlier mass media, the fact that we ourselves are increasingly actively involved: we participate in our own dazzlement. The TV was a window to a (somewhat distant, but not completely alien) world. We saw a clear image, a segment into which we were sucked. It was a controlled, passive kind of consumption that could be turned on or off. With digital media, however, we find ourselves within another register, controlled by different temporality and movement. There is no “off” any longer, only “on”. Anytime, anywhere “on”, whether conscious or subconscious, willingly or unwillingly—even regardless of whether it is good for us or not. We are always “on”. Everything and everybody instantly becomes an image and functions only within the image logics of likes, shares and viral circulation. The virtual space is no longer a place we visit sporadically, but the exclusive arena for action, where identity, social matters and politics are negotiated and decided. The border between inside (privacy) and outside (public) is no longer existent: everything is one. And I make my self a part of it. I turn myself into an image(object) and work as a “poor image”. I produce pictures without depth and images of an illusion which itself has no other origin than an image. Because my starting point is no longer a reality that can be represented, but I am imitating prefabricated images. Faster, ever faster. No time to see. And there is nothing more to see, no before, no behind. Only “now”. Everything is “now”. Thus we are in principle prevented from seeing and instead addressed through the gaze—that is, our desire. The like-button in particular (or other feedback functions and extended reaction systems), plays a major part in this, since it directly links the image to our desire. With the like-button we search for the gaze of others and orient ourselves by the number of likes—we allow ourselves be influenced and dazzled. In today’s economy of desire, the many shimmering screens hold us back in a virtual time of now—an imaginary—by redirecting our gaze solely towards themselves and returning an algorithmic gaze to us, so that we are no longer able to see reality (as also past and future) as a whole. Crary, J. (2014). 24/7: Schlaflos im Spätkapitalismus . Berlin, Germany: Verso. Debord, G. (1996a). Die Gesellschaft des Spektakels . Berlin, Germany: Edition Tiamat. Debord, G. (1996b). Kommentare zur Gesellschaft des Spektakels. In G. Debord, Die Gesellschaft des Spektakels (pp. 189–280). Berlin, Germany: Edition Tiamat. Lacan, J. (2015). Die vier Grundbegriffe der Psychoanalyse: Das Seminar. Buch XI (p. 109). Vienna & Berlin: Turia + Kant. Wark, M. (2011). Spectacles of disintegration. Social Research, 78 (4), 1115–1132. Wark, M., & Jacques, J. (2013, 16 May). Spectacles of disintegration: An interview with McKenzie Wark . New Statesman . https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/2013/05/spectacle-disintegration Marie-France Rafael (Dr. phil) is a professor for "Art in Context" at the Zurich University of the Arts. She studied Art History and Film Studies in Berlin and Paris. From 2011 to 2015 she was a research associate at the Free University of Berlin and until 2019 at the Muthesius University Kiel, Department of Spatial Strategies/Curatorial Spaces. In her research, writing, and teaching, she seeks to theorise the role played by contemporary art in human agency and social practises. In work she explores how the entanglement of art with cultural and social practises is always reflective of a historical moment. This has led her to focus on how digitalisation in contemporary art has taken on a new kind of presence—it is no longer just a virtual sphere of sociality, but increasingly, a technological interface that structures our embodied experiences. Her research and teaching is guided by questions on art and cultural history, gender constructions, image and media theory. Her books include among others Raphaela Vogel: Outside Form (Floating Opera Press, 2023), Passing images: art in the post-digital age (Floating Opera Press, 2022) and Reisen ins Imaginativ: künstlerische Situationen und Displays (Walther König, 2017). [1] In the German edition, the term “Vorstellung” is used as a translation of the French “représentation” (Debord, La Société du Spectacle , 15); however, in my opinion, the term “Repräsentation” seems more appropriate here, as it allows for a broader, both factual and conceptual, dimension of the realm of representation.

Listening in Times of a Social Shift to the Right Fiona Jassmann Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen Fiona Jassmann in conversation with Johannes Büttner about his artistic work and his current work Soldaten des Lichts (Soldiers of Light) It is about how the society we live and work in determines, how we are subjectivised. About people and how they organise themselves, and their fears, explains Johannes Büttner when asked about the focus in his artistic work. With his expansive installations which often consist of videos, sculptures and sound, he poses these questions both to himself and to his audience. Working with various (socio-)economic phenomena, he engages with grievances in the world, often in close collaboration with people outside the art world. Büttner‘s serious interest in people and their stories is like a common thread through his work. The result is, that in his art he speaks seldom about but rather with people. He says that this is based on the hope for communication and discussion and on the hope to understand people and groups. This hope is evident for example in The Factory (2020), a work in which Büttner engages with the digital job market. Her he is interested in people selling their digital labour online, and the inherent possibilities of transformation. In order to gain an authentic insight into this world, he works together with people selling their labour on the online platform Fiver. “I thought it interesting how these people see themselves. Do they say we are a form of working class—or are we rather digital entrepreneurs?” Büttner allows the relevant groups of persons an interpretative authority and asks them rather than observing them from a distance. This reveals his desire to work with them on eye level in artistic collaboration. However, Büttner does not follow a strict scheme, but makes distinctions. He adapts his behaviour individually according to the person he is currently collaborating with. This weighing up becomes apparent among others in the work Higher Potential (2021), where he enters into a kind of business relationship with “life coaches” (personal development coaches who sell their products with the promise to optimise their clients’ lives). The coaches are permitted to offer their products via Büttner’s video installation at the Kunsthalle Mainz. Every time a visitor buys something, Büttner receives a commission. He is concerned with the distribution of wealth and the importance not to externalise such issues: “How are we ourselves involved in these crises, and what do they have to do with our own position? Isn’t also the art world a highly competitive one, one driven by self-optimisation?” Here again, Büttner works closely together with a group of people, but here the power dynamics are different. On one hand the coaches make him feel that they are superior to him in respect to hierarchy and finance, on the other hand Büttner is well aware that it is ultimately he himself who has control over his art (for example through editing and contextual framing). He himself says: “I think there should be a kind of eye level, but at the same time I know that this eye level does not really exist. There is always a hierarchical imbalance. Then it depends a bit on whom I work with, how I try to address this hierarchical imbalance, whether I try to dissolve it in parts, or to create a balance.” When working with his last project, Büttner was confronted with very different hierarchical structures and power relations. Soldaten des Lichts (2025) is a documentary created together with director Julian Vogel. Premiere was in April 2025 at the 56 th documentary film festival Visions du Réel. In their film, Vogel and Büttner follow several protagonists from the conspiracy theorist and Reichsbürger scenes. Raw and unfiltered, without any explanatory voice-over, the film dares to cast light on a world that for most viewers must seem incredibly far from their own reality. In order to gain this intimate insight, Vogel and Büttner followed their protagonists over a long period of time. This close contact did not leave them unaffected. The various forms of ableism, classicism, antisemitism as well as LGBTQIA+-hostility they were regularly confronted with as well as the sometimes intense personal stories of their protagonists ultimately led them to the decision not to film for more than four or five days at a time. Nevertheless they developed different connections and thus varying degrees of responsibility towards their protagonists: “With a right-wing activist or the “King of Germany” we felt, this is already some kind of public person or actually a political activist. In this case we have a different, maybe a lesser sense of responsibility than for somebody who is very young, or maybe ill, and moves on a very different level in that hierarchy.” Büttner denies that the filming process had any influence on the people in front of the camera. Feedback came only after the film’s release. “Afterwards, however, I spoke to some protagonists, where the film triggered some kind of reflection. It’s probably too much to speak of ‘rethinking’. But I had the feeling there was the possibility to think about things again in a different way.” Thus, the film seems to have the potential to give people from the scene the possibility to reconsider their convictions, a chance to review their own environment from another perspective. Such an influence, though, seems not to have been the initial goal. “This actually developed during the process, since we were not sure from the beginning what we were really working toward.” But as the project took form, the desire to support those affected, grew. “Timo’s [1] parents declared from the beginning that they wanted to take part in the film. Both are not involved in the far-right or conspiracy theorist scene and were quite desperate that their son had slipped into it. By their appearance in the film they were trying to warn others who might be affected or to help them. I think we were grateful to hear from people actually affected that they saw the possibilities in the film.” Another goal for Büttner and Vogel was to search for people’s motivation. Why are conspiracy theories spread? Is it the desire for power over others? Is it delusion? Or is there actually a “good intention” behind it, the desire to enlighten others and to help them? “I don’t think we have an ultimate answer to that. But I had the feeling that those we were dealing with, don’t wake up in the morning and say, okay, now we are going to fool everyone. They are rather so ideologically convicted that they really believe to do the right thing or that they are helping people in some way.” The fact, that they monetise their conspiracies and myths and profit personally from them, is often used as an argument against that, says Büttner—this would contradict the assumption of sincere intentions. “But it is not really a contradiction or a conflict, but rather a continuation of the value system we are living in: a system, where economic success is seen as the “rightness” of our own actions and is also used as a kind of moral justification”, the artist says. Thus, Büttner also in this project moves from the individual and their personal story to the larger systemic questions. Soldaten des Lichts does not “only” offer insight into a part of the right-wing scene that asks on a personal level why people are spreading conspiracy theories, nor does the film aim to raise awareness or support those affected. It goes beyond that and asks, what our system has to do with those societal phenomena. Büttner and Vogel try to look beyond the surface of conspiracy theories and want to get to the bottom of their current social relevance. “We are presently living in a time of crises, and there are many different societal reactions to those crises. It can be extremely frustrating to engage with them — particularly when doing this from a materialist perspective, when acknowledging that many of those current crises arise on account of our economic system, capitalism. Or you make it easier for yourself to deal with injustices: you ignore the complexity and just looks at a “good” and a “bad” side. By choosing the “good” side you free yourself from the responsibility you might have within those crises.” In his art, Johannes Büttner offers both himself and his audience the possibility to approach this responsibility: He asks himself what role he has within our system and what the lived realities of the people he encounters, relate to him. Thus he creates access from the personal to the political as well as spaces for his audience where they can think about their own role within our world. “I was socialised in radical left circles by autonomous centres. Therefore I have always had the idea that society can be radically changed in a completely different way. This is interesting from my current point of view, but I am also interested in historical examples. And what future might still have in stow for us”, Büttner explains about his motivation. Johannes Büttner was born in Frankfurt am Main in 1985. In his art, he approaches different crises and injustices of our times and links them to socio-economic and societal phenomena. His work has been shown among other places at the Istanbul Biennial, the Kunsthalle Schirn and the K21 Düsseldorf. Since 2022 he has led the basic class for sculpture in fine arts at the HBK together with David Zink Yi. Since 2025 he has also participated in the PhD-programme of the Hochschule für bildende Künste Hamburg. Fiona Jassmann was born in Hamburg in 2002. She studies Fine Arts with Sara Sejin chang (van der Heide) and Art Education with Martin Krenn at the HBK Braunschweig. She currently spends an Erasmus semester at the Malmö Art Academy. [1] Timo is one of the protagonists of the film Soldaten des Lichts. He is part of a group of conspiracy theorists and tries to heal his hallucinations and anxiety through – among other things – a raw vegan diet. "Higher Potential" (2021), video installation, courtesy of the artist (credit: Neven Allgeier) "The Factory" (2020), video installation, courtesy of the artist Portrait of Johannes Büttner, courtesy of the artist, photo credit: Neven Allgeier

Buchrezension: Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie Moriz Hertel Read here in ENGLISH Wolfgang Ullrichs Buch Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie , das 2022 im Wagenbach Verlag erschien, baut grundlegend auf der Abgrenzung von postautonomer zu autonomer Kunst auf. Es ist keine streng wissenschaftliche Arbeit, sondern ein essayistischer Band, der Ullrich beim Denken zeigt. Diese formale Schwammigkeit wirft ihre Schatten jedoch auf den Inhalt. Statt der Abhandlung eine Diskussion des Autonomiebegriffs voranzustellen, führt Ullrich diese stotternd über 173 Seiten. Die autonome Kunst lehnt er stark am Verständnis der Avantgarde des 20. Jahrhunderts an, die Autonomie mit Autorität gleichsetzte – die Autorität der Kunst, mit ihrer eigenen Geschichte zu brechen und sich selbst neue Beurteilungskriterien zu geben (Ullrich 2022: 41). Wem hier gedanklich Robespierre auf der Schulter erscheint, der erinnere sich an dessen Ende. Nach immerhin 116 Seiten relativiert Ullrich nämlich in einem Hauptsatz, der wie ein Nebensatz klingt, die Idee einer absoluten Autonomie, an die „im Übrigen“ auch nicht „die ersten Verfechter der Autonomie-Idee“ wie Schiller geglaubt hätten (Ullrich 2022: 116). Im Gegensatz dazu zeichnet sich laut Ullrich postautonome Kunst in erster Linie dadurch aus, dass sie Bedeutung erlangen will, indem sie sie außerhalb des Kunstfeldes sucht. Dazu gehören für Ullrich sowohl Künstler-Sneaker wie die TZ-BS-06s von Takashi Murakami, der sich in den Bereich von Mode und Ware begibt, als auch Ai Weiweis Arbeit Law of the Journey (erstmals 2017) , in der er sich mit der Flüchtlingsthematik beschäftigt (Ullrich 2022: 10, 128 f.). Dabei liegt eine Sache m. E. klar auf der Hand: Die Aufmerksamkeit, die Künstler:innen in diesen anderen Feldern generieren, verdanken sie ihrer Anerkennung im Feld der Kunst – wer sich also nach außen orientiert und dabei vergisst, das Kunstfeld zu bedienen, aus dem er kommt, läuft Gefahr, dort Anerkennung einzubüßen. Diesem Risiko zu entgehen, scheint mir einfach, wenn man sich dafür entscheidet, im eigenen Teich zu fischen. Ullrich versteht die von ihm beobachtete Entwicklung von autonomer zu postautonomer Kunst nicht per se negativ – auch wenn der Buchtitel Gegenteiliges suggeriert. Er findet Beispiele, die sich einer politischen Botschaft verschreiben und trotzdem formal gelungen sind, darunter Kerry James Marshalls Gemälde Untitled (Underpainting) von 2018, in dem Marshall Form und Inhalt clever verzahnt. Durch den Titel verweist er nicht nur auf sein kunstgeschichtliches Wissen – der Titel kann als Zitat der Concept Art gelesen werden –, sondern auch auf sein technisches. Ein Underpainting wurde traditionell in Grau- oder Brauntönen gehalten, um die Verteilung der Kontraste zu überprüfen. Die eigentlichen Farben folgten erst später. Bei Marshall sind nicht zufällig alle dargestellten Personen schwarz. Er verschränkt vermeintlich technische Notwendigkeit mit inhaltlicher Repräsentation von Schwarzen, die oft genug aus dem Museumsbetrieb ausgeschlossen wurden, und transportiert seine Botschaft so auf humoristische Weise. Eine Einordnung Marshalls in den kunstgeschichtlichen Kontext wäre hier sicher sinnvoll gewesen, schließlich ist seine Praxis im Spannungsfeld von Autonomie und politischem Engagement verortet. Anschaulich wird dieses Spannungsfeld bei der Betrachtung eines der bekanntesten Topoi der Kunstwelt: dem L’art pour l’art. Wörtlich „die Kunst für die Kunst“ und sinngemäß „die Kunst um der Kunst willen“, bildet L’art pour l’art den Kern der modernen Autonomiedebatte. Während realistische Kunst, beispielsweise eines Courbet, die Dinge darstellte, wie sie waren, und politisch deshalb war, weil sie Sujets zeigte, die dem gängigen Darstellungsrepertoire nicht entsprachen, verfolgten die Künstler:innen der L’art-pour-l’art-Bewegung ein anderes Ziel. Literaten wie Flaubert wollten die Wirklichkeit nicht beschreiben, sondern Realität durch ihr Schreiben erschaffen (Bourdieu 2010: 157). L’art pour l’art ist daher ein ästhetisches Programm, das jedoch nur auf den ersten Blick apolitisch ist. Denn ebenso wie der Mann ohne Eigenschaften Musils eine Eigenschaft hat, nämlich die, keine zu haben, ist L’art pour l’art nicht von Gott gegeben, sondern ein Abgrenzungsmechanismus: die Abkehr einer deutlich auf die soziale Realität bezogenen Kritik. Die Frage nach der Freiheit der Kunst ist demnach zugleich die Frage danach, wovon sie denn frei sei, wovon die Akteur:innen des Kunstfeldes sich abgrenzen. Während die Dada-Bewegung vor dem Hintergrund des ersten Weltkriegs dem Nihilismus frönte, waren die Künstler:innen der Neuen Sachlichkeit nur wenig später schon auf der Suche nach dem neuen Menschen. Kunst ist allzeit politisch, sei es der Form oder dem Inhalt nach, unterschiedlich sind nur Mittel und Maßstab. Und gerade wegen ihrer politischen Relevanz wird ihr in der Verfassung ein eigener Passus gewidmet. Aber nicht, weil die Kunst nach Artikel fünf des Grundgesetzes frei ist, genießt sie eine gewisse Autonomie, sondern weil die Verfasser des Grundgesetzes der Kunst einen besonderen Wert zumaßen, wollten sie sie gegen Angriffe schützen. Die Autonomie der Kunst wird jedoch nicht durch das Grundgesetz hergestellt, sondern lediglich verbrieft. Die Freiheit der Kunst realisieren die Künstler:innen durch ihr Handeln. Die Stärke der Kunst liegt darin, dass sie dies im kulturellen und symbolischen Raum tun. Obwohl nämlich der Neoliberalismus immer weiter in das Kunstfeld eindringt und es korrumpiert, ist er so lange zum Scheitern verurteilt, wie es Künstler:innen gibt, die sich nicht von der ökonomischen Zugkraft des Kunstmarktes verleiten lassen und ihre Arbeit an dessen Struktur anpassen. Der Ausgangspunkt der künstlerischen Produktion ist der Mensch, die Verschränkung von Körper und Geist als Speicher von Wissen, das sich schließlich im Kunstwerk materialisiert und nicht diskursiv ist. Es ist nicht einmal für einen selbst zugänglich, nur bruchstückweise können wir es nutzen. Der:die Künstler:in hat ein Wissen, von dem er:sie selbst nichts weiß. Die Freiheit der Kunst ist daher die Unverfügbarkeit des eigenen Wissens für alle. Es ist daher nicht verwunderlich, dass der Double Bind des L’art pour l’art nur aus dem historischen Abstand identifiziert werden kann, schließlich mussten die Künstler:innen des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts zuerst einmal an ihr Programm glauben, um es verwirklichen zu können. Deswegen lässt sich die Opposition von autonomer und postautonomer Kunst letztlich nicht anders beschreiben als unzulänglich. Bei Ullrich steht die Zeit still. Weil er nur den Autonomiebegriff historisiert, ohne gleichzeitig die eigene Verkennung der Avantgarde als Motor für die Entwicklung des Autonomiebegriffes zu thematisieren, bleibt die Verbindung von autonomer zu postautonomer Kunst lose. Die beiden Begriffe stehen zusammenhanglos nebeneinander, verbunden einzig durch ihre sprachliche Wurzel. Dabei eröffnet sich genau in der Erkenntnis, dass die Autonomie der Kunst – egal was sie propagierte – nur eine relative war, die Möglichkeit, die Spur von autonomer zu postautonomer Kunst nachzuverfolgen. Mit dem Anspruch, dieser Spur nachzugehen, eröffnete Ullrich das Buch. Was dabei herauskommt, ist leider vorrangig die Behauptung eines Paradigmenwechsels, nur unter Verwendung von Beispielen, die diese Behauptung auch unterstützen. Das Buch ist zweifellos anschaulich und informativ; und wie jedes gute wirft auch dieses viele Fragen auf, nur leider lässt uns der Autor mit ihnen ziemlich allein. Literatur Bourdieu, Pierre, 2010. Die Regeln der Kunst (Ersterscheinung 1992). Frankfurt a. M. Ullrich, Wolfgang, 2022. Die Kunst nach dem Ende ihrer Autonomie. Berlin Moriz Hertel , geboren 1998 in Bamberg, studiert Kunstwissenschaft im Master und Freie Kunst im Diplom. In seiner Arbeit befasst er sich aktuell mit Olfaktorik und performativen Praktiken. Bildcredits fehlen

NotFound—About Online raisonnés and Possible Alternatives Gordon Endt Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen The current state of catalogues raisonnés available online is not satisfying. These platforms often develop through algorithms and monetisation strategies in ways that prioritise profit and attention, while contents are only accessible in a limited way. Users often waive the rights to their own works. With the web-art project NotFound, the art collective Unit 404 wishes to develop a new tool which is not profit oriented, free and open source. A catalogue raisonné documents the complete work of one artist. If a work appears in such a catalogue, its authenticity and provenance can be verified on that basis. At the same time, a catalogue raisonné records the chronology of an artist’s practise and thus forms an important tool for museums and other institutions when it comes to the curation of art. A classical catalogue raisonné is compiled by an institution, but it can also be initiated by the artists themselves. Social media and the ensuing acceleration of consumption of art changed the classic catalogue raisonné radically. While some artists present their work on platforms like Instagram, others document them on their own website — or dispense with a public online presence in favour of a printed portfolio. Alongside this, there are other platforms dedicated to compile art catalogues that are as comprehensive as possible. Probably the most important of these is Artfacts. It provides artist rankings and automatically records exhibition activities — independent from the artists’ own involvement. If you are a part of the art world, you are probably listed there. At the other end of the spectrum are platforms created by artists for artists, similar to producer galleries. This practise report wants to have a look at the platform NPIECE as an exemplary case, a platform enabling artists to upload and manage their works independently. Another possibility for online catalogues is offered by the non-commercial platform NotFound , which will be presented at the conclusion. This essays focus lies on how contemporary art becomes visible and accessible online and how digital catalogues raisonnés function today. ArtFacts The website ArtFacts.net is a platform listing art works and artists according to a ranking system. Founded in 2001, it states its mission on the website as follows: “Since 2001, we have been collecting data on the global primary art market. We are proud to say that our information is being carefully checked prior to publication, since it forms the basis of ArtFacts’ unique ranking system. Our artist rankings have become an industry-acknowledged benchmark. It is being used by curators, galleries and collectors in order to assess the position of an artist within the world of art. ArtFacts is the idea of its founder, Marek Claassen, and originated from a simple goal: to quantify and digitise facts about art in order to make the art world more transparent and to enable everybody to expand their knowledge and to make more informed decisions when dealing with art." [1] This mission statement reveals the fundamental problem of ArtFacts : the platform is focused on a ranking, an evaluation based on measurable criteria and numbers. The more exhibition an artist can present, the higher their ranking. The problem here is that many exhibitions are not recorded at all — particularly smaller or independently organised projects. Visible are mainly larger institutions with the respective online presence. I myself took part in more than twenty exhibitions, but on ArtFacts only five of them are listed. If you want to supplement the “unique ranking system” independently, you will soon find out that you can only enter three exhibitions, beyond that a paid upgrade is required. The cheapest membership is 15 € a month, the most expensive comes at 45 €. Only 20 € onward it is even possible to add one’s own exhibitions. That makes 240 € a year only to be visible on a platform which would not exist without the artists. The biggest problem, however, is that the pages for the artists are being created automatically and without consent. Likewise, exhibitions are entered without authorisation. ArtFacts creates so-called “public pages”, even though one never registered on the website. Only by “claiming” you can get your “own” page back and can edit it. To delete such a profile is complicated and only possible by contacting support directly. This process to register and publish artists without asking them, is the complete opposite of the declared goal: to make art world more “transparent”. [2] In reality here — as so often — it is algorithms that determine on what is relevant and important. In the face of — according to their own statement — more than 1,840,000 registered artists it is doubtful, how carefully information is really verified. [3] The promised transparency also is limited: a lot of information is only accessible for paying users, further details are hidden behind a paywall. As a platform for the independent implementation of catalogues raisonnés ArtFacts is not suitable, since the elementary differences between a paid and a free account lead to the fact that not all works and exhibitions are entered. Furthermore, one has to be careful when uploading images: A look at the terms of use reveals — if you manage to understand the legal jargon — that you agree to very far-reaching restriction when using the platform. Usage rights granted are global and perpetual, meaning unlimited in time and irrevocable (you cannot withdraw your consent later), they are sublicensable (the platform can transfer these rights), transferable (it can transfer these rights to other companies), free of charge and unrestricted in purpose (the content may be used for any purpose). When using the site users waive their copyrights, which means that Artefact can use a work without mentioning the name of the artist — and the work can be altered (waiver of the right to protection against distortion of one’s work). And finally, they waive the right to decide how the work is published. These terms are extensive and should be taken seriously. When users upload works, texts or photographs, they should be aware that they practically relinquish control over their further use. Artefact is allowed to use image material for example in advertising, marketing or its own collaborations — without consent and without any kind of compensation. Furthermore, authors cannot demand the removal of content or prevent its further use. [4] It can thus be concluded that while ArtFacts may look like a catalogue raisonné to document the work of an artist, it is rather useless as such — on account of its inherent ranking structure, the algorithms and the focus on popularity, as well as the inequalities produced by monetisation. A look on NPIECE now shall serve as an example for a website initiated by artists for artists. NPIECE The platform NPIECE was founded in 2009 by Marius Wilms and saw itself as a professional space to present works of art. According to its internal statistics the website lists currently more than 160 artists. To be registered, a form has to be submitted, after its evaluation the account is opened manually. Name, e-mail address and the own website or profile on social media are thereby verified. Alternatively, artists can be invited directly via a “token”. Images, videos, texts and PDF files can be uploaded to NPIECE. The use is generally free. However, there exists an upload limit of 20 files with a maximum storage capacity of 200 MB. More storage can be unlocked for a fee. On the homepage, visitors see randomly picked works from the current pool of uploads. Below it is a diagram showing user activity: those uploading or editing content appear in this graph. The individual peaks in this graph can be clicked to reveal what content was modified at a given point of time. Another interesting element of the website is the overview over coming exhibitions. They are in chronologic order and offer insight into current projects of the community. As at Artefacts artists are to be presented, but where Artefacts is clings to the credo of popularity, NPIECE displays works of art randomly and presents recent activity. With a free account users can upload their own works to NPIECE, while retaining all rights to their own works. Moderate prices offer a good alternative to a personal website for the digital documentation of one’s works. NPIECE is a simply structured art platform, an interactive form of a portfolio presentation. Experimental formats or a customised design are not intended. [5] The platform NPIECE is much closer to the idea of a catalogue raisonné than Artefacts . Users are more free to design their contributions and maintain their owner rights. All contributions can be publicly seen for free. Yet there is still a financial barrier in form of a membership fee when presenting a comprehensive portfolio on the platform. NotFound.Wiki With these platforms as a starting point, and the wish to create a free platform, NotFound has been established. Its aim is to function forever free of charge and without any algorithms. NotFound.Wiki is an online project of the German art collective Unit 404 , launched in 2025. The platform uses the open-source libraries and code from WikiMedia. Users can create their own entries, upload images, add links and build subpages. Furthermore, it is possible to implement cross-references to existing entries — for example in order to document a group exhibition and to link the participating artists to one another. All works uploaded on the platform remain the property of the artists in terms of copyright, only documentation, i.e. text and image material, is shared. Legally, all usage rights are governed by the GNU licence (Free Documentation Licence), version 1.4 or later. [6] In contrast to the platforms named above, creating content here is much more than to fill in prefabricated templates. Users can, for example, write their own essays or articles which don’t need to be supported by sources. Speculative contributions are just as welcome as fictional content. Thus, also works in progress can be shown on the platform, weekly or daily updates on projects can be given, or the site can be used as an artistic diary. Unit 404 describes the project as follows: "NotFound offers the possibility to realise improbable concepts and impossible works of art. An artwork of the mind is of incomprehensive beauty and surpasses all possibilities of the matter. The magician turns material waste into sublime objects without even touching them. [...] NotFound is a refuge for all art that is limited by the formalities of realisation. It outlines the void of potential not realised." NotFound.Wiki presents itself as a free, invitation-based, open and collaboratively usable alternative to commercial art platforms. Every user has the same rights; there are no paid features and no advertisements. Even seemingly trivial limitations, such as character limits for texts, are absent. Moderation is deliberately kept to a minimum. The collective Unit 404 merely reserves the right to remove content that threatens the continued operation of the website. The project is thus more an interface to the internet than a classical catalogue raisonné. Users can use their web space for hosting, or they can provide their own code similar to GitHub. The website can also be accessed via APIs, which enables the development of digital live projects. In such an open repository, also unfinished projects in progress — such as notes — can be entered and shared. The emphasis is not on outward visibility alone, but more on professional presentation of the works. The platform is meant to grow over time and to become a mysterious cabinet of curiosities within the internet, inviting visitors to search, to explore and to lose themselves among new worlds. Access to the platform is granted via personalised invitation links. They can be used to open an account. The contributions themselves are to be published under real names, just as in normal catalogues raisonnés. In this way, the publication of contributions is traceable. The resulting network initially consists of the collective’s close circle but is intended to grow organically over time. The goal is not an anonymous portal, but a living, open network in which artists can situate one another. One of the project’s greatest challenges is the long-term moderation of content. As the number of users increases, it will become necessary to develop strategies for collective quality assurance. Ideally, a self-regulating system will emerge, sustained by a shared interest in a free and democratic platform. If you, dear reader, want to contribute to the platform, have questions or want to present your works there, please contact Unit 404 at any time via mail@unit404.net . NotFound remains 100% free of charge, non-monetised and consistently I the service of common “usefulness”. Unit 404 When a link is missing, a 404 error message appears. Unit 404 is a collective of multimedia artists that brings these loose ends together to create something new, using technology as both a tool and content. http://unit-404.net Gordon Endt is an audiovisual multimedia artist and a founding member of the art collective Unit 404. He studied fine arts at the HBK Braunschweig and earned a master’s degree in Visual Arts & Multimedia from the Polytechnic University of Valencia. In addition to the Germany Scholarship, he received a scholarship in the artists’ town of Kalbe, studied at the Vilnius Academy of Arts, and was a scholarship recipient at the Oldenburg Art School. http://www.gordonendt.com [1] https://artfacts.net/about , retrieved 11/7/2025 [2] „Why is my artist profile on Artfacts?“, https://artfacts.net/faq , retrieved 01/14/2025 [3] „Mapping the art world“, https://artfacts.net/ , retrieved 11/7/2025 [4] „Terms“, https://artfacts.net/info/terms , retrieved last 11/7/2025 [5] https://npiece.com/about?l=de#terms , retrieved last 11/7/2025 [6] GNU-licence 1.3 or later, https://www.gnu.org/licenses/fdl-1.3.html , retrieved 11/25/2025 Screenshot of Artfacts, visited 20.11.25 Screenshot of Artfacts, https://artfacts.net/artist/gordon-endt , visited 20.11.25 Screenshot of nPiece https://npiece.com/?l=de , visited 25.11.25 Screenshot of nPiece https://npiece.com/?l=de , visited on 25.11.25 Screenshot of https://lib.notfound.wiki/Main_Page , visited on 26.11.25

knot-working against not-working networks Malin Kuht Read here in GERMAN Translated by Tanja Ohlsen A review on the entangles futures of cyberfeminism and the Old Boys Network “What is the old boys network?” “utopia—mistaken for reality”, answers Claudia Reiche. “An ongoing crisis; a big misunderstanding”, replies Cornelia Sollfrank. “An unstoppable dissolving structure”, says Helene von Oldenburg (von Oldenburg/Reiche 2002: 16). All three statements are from texts to the panel “net working, knot working, not working?”, which took place at the Very Cyberfeminist International 2001 in Hamburg. The Old Boys Network (OBN) was simultaneously utopia and reality, productive crisis and dissolving structure. It was a network founded as the “first international cyberfeminist organisation”, that spent four years with questioning itself. Cyberfeminismus as Interface When the OBN was founded in 1997 and invited people to the First Cyberfeminist International to Kassel, it denied to define itself. Instead 100 antitheses were collectively formulated: “Cyberfeminism is not an ism”, “Cyberfeminismus is not art”, “Cyberfeminism is not lady-like”. The term was to remain as open as possible, a “feminist user interface”, that allowed a wide range of applications (Draude 2000). Since the early 1990s, artistic experiments (VNS Matrix), theoretical interventions (Sadie Plant), and activist projects (subRosa) were brought together under this term in order to hack patriarchal codes with the help of technology. Donna Haraways cyborg figure—hyvrid, contradictionary, ironic—was a central reference point (Haraway 1985). Cyberfeminism was described as a practise that was concerned with “ideas, irony, appropriation and hands-on skilling up in the data-terrain” (Pierce 1997: 10). It was a field of experimentation which made feminism technologically engaged and through which technology could be read through a feminist lens. OBN saw itself not primarily as a technical, but a social network. Its slogan was “The mode is the message—the code is the collective”, which pointed to the network’s attitude in respect to conditions of representation and production. I contrast to Marshall McLuhan’s motto “The medium is the message”, here the mode —the way of acting—is the message. Organisational functions and responsibilities were to be shared and they had no leader. Work was organised in autonomous project groups, which had to be communicated via a mailing list (von Oldenburg/Reiche 2002: 17). The stated goal was to develop various kinds of cyberfeminism, that could and should contradict one another in the name of the “principle of disagreement” (ibid.). This kind of fluid organisation form was oriented on the then new digital infrastructures like email lists, personal websites and curated search engines. The mailing list FACES , founded in 1997, enables (until today) self-organised connections across all continents. Email lists became tools of a living, non-hierarchical solidarity. The three cyberfeministic internationals were at the centre of this shared practise. The poster format of the Very Cyberfeminist International in 2001 demonstrates this structure in a radical way: in a large space 20 to 30 participants presented their answers to the question: “What is your vision of cyberfeminism?” with the help of a A2 poster and in a maximum of 10 minutes. It was a deliberate break with hierarchical conference formats (cf. von Oldenburg/Reiche 2002: 6). Two contributions presented during this conference shall be an example for the concrete questions, cyberfeminists then dealt with—and the critiques which already at that time were being postulated. In an online discussion with Russian feminists, Andrea Hapke and Andrea Jana Korb reflected on the ambivalence of their position. They found themselves in the conflicting roles of being travellers and hosts at the same time. Did they create a hospitable space for others or did they enter one? (Hapke/Korb 2002: 70). Hospitality , a term, Irina Aristarkhova introduced, became a critical tool: what happens, when the host is not an owner? (Aristarkhova 2002: 120). Questions like this point to the material and symbolic conditions of digital encounters. Hospitality not only implies technical access, but the deliberate decision in favour of connection—in virtual as well as in physical spaces. The technical barriers were real: Cyrillic encoding in a web dominated by ASCII, different time zones, unequal access to computers. Hapke and Korb speak of the instability of cyberfeministic infrastructures—the website of the Cyberfemin Club St. Petersburg suddenly disappeared and with that, they lost the basis for their project. “Anchoring”—to ground, to visualise, to archive—became a political necessity. (Hapke/Korb 2002: 72). Hapke and Korb describe how they had to defend themselves against the supposed incompatibility of so-called reality and virtuality (ibid.: 71). Both spheres are closely intertwined and confront us nowadays as a continuum. It claims to be seamless and immediate, yet the problems stated by Hapke and Korb still exist. The question of the material conditions of digital practise was raised by TechnoTricksterTank in an even more self-critical way. The collective called for a reorientation of cybefeminism, directing its critique against an overemphasis on symbolic gestures: “ Do you really think it helps to sublimate the fear of technosphere by doing your fancy website and endless PowerPoint animations?” (Bath et al. 2002: 64). Instead, they argued for transdisciplinary alliances and the not only subversive use of technologies, but to intervene in their production. There was more than to undermine “evil” technology in its use. They demanded: “Engage yourself in the construction and development of technology while being aware of mechanisms of in-/exclusions!” (ibid.: 65) Faith Wilding and her collective subRosa argued similarily, and claimed that cyberfeminism had to address the material consequences as well as the in-/exclusions of the human-machine interface, and that not only for highly skilled knowledge workers, but especially for feminised forms of digital labour (Wilding/subRosa 2002: 69). Thus, focus shifted from playful experiments with identity towards material analyses of working conditions in IT production, biotechnological instrumentalisation of bodies, and global feminist division of labour. These perspectives were introduced into the discourse by cyberfeminists and continue to shape—directly or indirectly—the discussion about who programmes and produces technologies and for whom. The question is no longer whether technology can be emancipatory, but under what conditions—and who has to pay the price. Current feminist critiques of technology ask: whose labour is being exploited by AI? Whose bodies are being captured in biometric databases? Whose work becomes (in)visible through interface? Those questions were already asked in 2001, however, in the context of platform capitalism and generative AI they gain new importance. Not-working: From Cyberspace to Platform Critique Officially, OBN has never been dissolved, but it ceased to function. Many participants wished for more political aims and common demands from OBN. This, however, was in disagreement with the “principle of disagreement”, which practically dictated a refusal to unite and speak with one voice. Later, Cornelia Sollfrank described another incompatibility. The informal ways of working could not be united with the economies of the art world, the activism or the academy, which are based on authorship, attribution and valorisation (Sollfrank 2018: 112). The wish not to have a fixed structure, collided with the requirements of those very fields in which the network operated. This text tries to tell a possible story of something that resisted to be told. When asked about the future of the OBN, its participants answered in 2001: “utopia, waiting” (Reiche), “to be historical?” (Sollfrank), “a myth referring to an X—with 1001 possibilities to be told” (von Oldenburg) (von Oldenburg/Reiche 2002: 16). Those answers anticipated the impending end. Thus, the network became a kind of myth, an open narrative. The history of the OBN has up to now not really systematically been documented. It refuses to adapt to classical archival logics, because it is based on evasive practises: on collective working methods, situational alliances, ironic gestures, or email threads. While there are images of early cyberfeminists—often depoliticised and aestheticised—the processes, conflicts and contradictions remain invisible. The digital sphere exacerbates the problem: websites disappear, servers are shut down, mailing-list archives are lost. Knowledge is being privatised, connections monetised and commons fragmented. Knot-working: weaving solidarity The title of this essay, knot-working against not-working networks, refers to the panel of 2001. It describes a practise of resistant entangling against those networks that may function technically, but are not useful for emancipatory purposes. Today’s platforms are based on surveillance, data extraction and fragmentation—they are not-working networks. Knot-working , in contrast, means organising in an entangled, unstructured way. It is not a quantifiable network, but a network that resists classical control. According to Helene von Oldenburg’s “experimental spider science”, knot-working is an arachnoid method, weaving threads, connecting loose ends and sees the net as an activity (von Oldenburg 1997). Historicising, too, can be a practise of knot-working. It is less about preservation than about sustaining and to transfer practises, about reconnecting with only half realised futures, about the reactivation of lost seeds of possibilities. Mindy Seu’s Cyberfeminist Index 1990–2020 shows that cyberfeminist practises emerged worldwide—including in places where the term itself was never explicitly used. Hackfeministas in Mexico, queer-feminist tech collectives in East Asia, Black cyberfeminism and decolonial network practises complicate a genealogy that had long been centred on Europe, the United States and Australia. What remains? Alternatives to dominant net logistics are still existing. At the same time, the conditions for collective organisation have undergone fundamental changes. The early internet promised decentral, self-organised structures, while today a few corporations dominate the digital infrastructure. Email lists like FACES do still exist, however, their role as tool for non-hierarchic solidarity has become precarious. New forms of collective organisations like Mastodon instance, the Fediverse, mesh networks, pads and encrypted messengers present themselves as alternatives. However, these spaces, too, are under attack, they depend on unpaid labour and remain often invisible to those who are not yet connected. Collective organisation is possible, though fragile. Technologies are not neutral, but malleable. Feminism and technology are not separate fields; they mutually shape one another. Initiatives like Algorithmic Justice League , Feminist AI Projects or decolonial tech collectives work at this intersection. The question of Hospitality comes up continually when moderating digital spaces, while the “principle of disagreement” becomes relevant in disputes about cancel culture. Today, the influence of cyberfeminism becomes visible more in a shift in attitude than in explicit references. Technology is not seen as emancipatory, but as a terrain of ongoing negotiation. In times of algorithmic control and privatised infrastructures it is necessary to gather together in solidary entanglements. Knot-working is not a solution; it is a practise. The careful interweaving of resistant threads—against forgetting, against isolation, against the functional, but not functioning networks of the present. Malin Kuht works as an artist and mediator. They studied political science, art education, and visual communication at the Universität/Kunsthochschule Kassel. Against the backdrop of a present shaped by digital infrastructures, their work repeatedly returns to the origins of digital cultures and their legacies, seeking emancipatory and queer-feminist approaches to technologies and archives. Malin Kuht’s work has been shown, among other venues, at Kunstraum Dock 20 in Lustenau, at the Hamburg Short Film Festival, and at Kassel Dokfest. From 2023 to 2025, they taught on the MA programme in Art Education at HFBK Hamburg, is a founding member of the association para-education , and is currently realising the “reference library on Public Art in Hamburg and beyond”. In 2025, they participated in the Goldrausch Künstlerinnenprojekt, Berlin. malinkuht.com References Aristarkhova, I. (2002). Hosting the other. In H. von Oldenburg & C. Reiche (Eds.), Very cyberfeminist international (pp. 120–127). Berlin: b_books. Bath, C., Peter, U., Draude, C., Weber, J., & Gössner, A. (2002). TechnoTricksterTank4Today. In H. von Oldenburg & C. Reiche (Eds.), Very cyberfeminist international (pp. 64–65). Berlin: b_books. Draude, C. (2000). Introducing cyberfeminism . https://obn.org/obn/reading_room/writings/html/intro.html Hapke, A., & Korb, A. J. (2002). Travelling hostesses in cyberfemspace. In H. von Oldenburg & C. Reiche (Eds.), Very cyberfeminist international (pp. 70–73). Berlin: b_books. Haraway, D. (1985). A manifesto for cyborgs: Science, technology, and socialist feminism in the 1980s. Socialist Review , 80, 65–108. Oldenburg, H. von. (1997). Feministische Aspekte der experimentellen Spinnenkunde . https://obn.org/obn/reading_room/writings/html/spinnenkunde.html Oldenburg, H. von, & Reiche, C. (Eds.). (2002). Very cyberfeminist international . Berlin: b_books. https://obn.org/obn/obn_pro/downloads/reader3.pdf Seu, M. (2022). Cyberfeminism index . London: Inventory Press. Sollfrank, C. (2018). Die schönen Kriegerinnen: Technofeministische Praxis im Netz . Vienna: Transversal Texts. Wilding, F., & subRosa. (2002). Strategies and tactics for feminist/cyberfeminist collaborations. In H. von Oldenburg & C. Reiche (Eds.), Very cyberfeminist international (pp. 66–69). Berlin: b_books. Page 8 from the Very Cyberfeminist International reader, 2002, photos: old boys network/Linda Putzenhardt Abbildung auf dem Poster von Jill Scott, 2001, Foto: Jill Scott Still from En-countering Cyberfeminism, 2021, Photo: Malin Kuht Still from En-countering Cyberfeminism, 2021, Photo: Malin Kuht

appropriate! Journal zur Aneignung und Vermittlung von Kunst ist eine Online-Publikation des Studienganges Kunstvermittlung des Instituts FREIE KUNST der HBK Braunschweig. 6 5 4 3 2 1 7 Button

NotFound – Über Online- Werkverzeichnisse und mögliche Alternativen Gordon Endt Read here in ENGLISH Der Status quo von im Internet nutzbaren Werkverzeichnissen ist nicht zufriedenstellend. Oft entwickeln sich die Plattformen durch Algorithmen und Monetarisierung in eine Richtung, in der es um Profit und Aufmerksamkeit geht, Inhalte sind nur bedingt einsehbar. User:innen treten großflächig ihre Rechte an den eigenen Arbeiten ab. Das Kunstkollektiv Unit 404 möchte mit dem Webart-Projekt NotFound ein neues Werkzeug entwickeln, das nicht monetarisiert, frei und open source ist. Ein Werkverzeichnis dokumentiert ganzheitlich das Werk einer:eines Kunstschaffenden. Findet sich eine Arbeit in dieser Auflistung, so kann dadurch die Echtheit und Provenienz geprüft werden. Gleichzeitig dokumentiert ein Werkverzeichnis auch die Chronologie des Schaffens und ist so für Museen und andere Institutionen ein wichtiges Werkzeug, wenn es um die Kuration von Kunst geht. Das klassische Werkverzeichnis wird von einer Institution angefertigt, kann aber auch von den Künstler:innen selbst ins Leben gerufen werden. Mit den sozialen Medien und der damit einhergehenden Schnell-lebigkeit im Konsum von Kunst hat sich das klassische Werk-verzeichnis grundlegend verändert. Während einige Künstler:innen ihre Arbeiten auf Plattformen wie Instagram präsentieren, dokumentieren andere ihre Werke auf der eigenen Website – oder verzichten ganz auf eine öffentliche Online-Präsenz und setzen stattdessen auf das gedruckte Portfolio. Daneben existieren Plattformen, die sich der Aufgabe verschrieben haben, möglichst umfassende Kunstkataloge zu erstellen. Die wohl bekannteste Website dieser Art ist Artfacts. Diese erstellt Künstler:innen-Rankings und erfassen automatisiert Ausstellungs-aktivitäten – unabhängig vom Zutun der Kunst-schaffenden. Es ist nicht unwahrscheinlich, dass Sie, insofern Sie selbst Teil der Kunstwelt sind, auch auf Artfacts gelistet sind. Am anderen Rand des Spektrums befinden sich Plattformen, die von Künstler:innen für Kunstschaffende geschaffen wurden, ähnlich der Produzentengalerie. In diesem Praxisbericht werfe ich exemplarisch einen Blick auf die Plattform NPIECE, die es Künstler:innen ermöglicht, ihre Werke eigenständig hochzuladen und zu verwalten. Gibt es außerhalb dieser Plattformen noch weitere, vielleicht unerkundete Möglichkeiten des Werkverzeichnisses? Wie kann zeitgenössische Kunst im Internet sichtbar und auffindbar werden? Wie funktionieren digitale Werkverzeichnisse heute? Artfacts Die Website Artfacts.net ist eine Plattform, die Kunstwerke und Künstler:innen nach einem Ranking-System bewertet. Sie wurde 2001 gegründet und formuliert ihre Mission auf ihrer Website wie folgt: Seit 2001 sammeln wir Daten zum weltweiten Primärmarkt für Kunst. Wir sind stolz darauf, dass unsere Informationen vor der Veröffentlichung sorgfältig geprüft werden, da sie als Grundlage für das einzigartige Ranking-System von Artfacts dienen. Unsere Künstlerrankings haben sich zu einer branchenweit anerkannten Bewertung entwickelt, die von Kuratorinnen und Kuratoren, Galerien und Sammlerinnen und Sammlern genutzt wird, um die Positionierung eines Künstlers in der Kunstwelt zu beurteilen. Artfacts ist die Idee des Gründers Marek Claassen, entstanden aus einem einfachen Ziel: Fakten aus der Kunst zu quantifizieren und zu digitalisieren, um die Kunstwelt transparenter zu machen und es jedem zu ermöglichen, sein Wissen zu erweitern und fundiertere Entscheidungen im Umgang mit Kunst zu treffen. [1] Anhand dieses Mission Statements lässt sich gut die grundlegende Problematik von Artfacts aufzeigen: Die Plattform richtet ihren Fokus auf ein Ranking, also auf eine Bewertung nach messbaren Kriterien und Zahlen. Je mehr Ausstellungen eine Künstlerin oder ein Künstler vorweisen kann, desto höher das Ranking. Das Problem dabei: Viele Ausstellungen werden gar nicht erfasst – insbesondere kleinere oder unabhängig organisierte Projekte. Sichtbar werden vor allem größere Institutionen mit entsprechender Online-Präsenz. Ich selbst habe an mehr als zwanzig Ausstellungen mitgewirkt, auf Artfacts sind davon jedoch nur fünf aufgeführt. Möchte man das sogenannte „einzigartige Ranking-System“ eigenständig ergänzen, stellt man schnell fest, dass man lediglich drei Ausstellungen eintragen kann; danach ist ein kostenpflichtiges Upgrade erforderlich. Die günstigste Mitgliedschaft kostet 15 Euro im Monat, die teuerste 45 Euro. Erst ab 20 Euro monatlich ist es überhaupt möglich, eigene Ausstellungen einzutragen. Das bedeutet 240 Euro im Jahr – nur um auf einer Plattform sichtbar zu sein, die ohne die Künstler:innen überhaupt nicht existieren würde. Das größte Problem jedoch ist, dass die Künstler:innen-Seiten automatisch und ohne Zustimmung erstellt werden. Ebenso werden Ausstellungen ohne Einverständnis eingetragen. Artfacts erstellt sogenannte „public pages“, auch wenn man nie auf der Seite registriert war. Erst durch „claimen“ kann man seine „eigene“ Seite zurückholen und selbstständig bearbeiten. Das Löschen eines solchen Profils ist kompliziert und nur über eine direkte Anfrage beim Support möglich. Dieses Vorgehen, Menschen ungefragt zu erfassen und zu veröffentlichen, widerspricht völlig dem erklärten Ziel, die Kunstwelt „transparenter“ zu machen. [2] Tatsächlich entscheiden hier – wie so oft – Algorithmen darüber, was als relevant und wichtig gilt. Angesichts der laut eigenen Angaben über 1.184.000 erfassten Künstler:innen ist fraglich, in welchem Maße die Daten tatsächlich überprüft werden. [3] Auch die angebliche Transparenz bleibt letztlich eingeschränkt: Viele Informationen sind nur für zahlende Nutzer:innen zugänglich, während weiterführende Details hinter einer Paywall [4] verborgen bleiben. Als Plattform für das eigenständige Erstellen von Werkverzeichnissen ist Artfacts nicht geeignet, da die elementaren Unterschiede zwischen einem bezahlten und einem freien Konto dazu führen, dass nicht alle Werke und Ausstellungen eingetragen werden können. Außerdem ist beim Hochladen von Bildmaterial Vorsicht geboten: Wirft man einen Blick auf die Nutzungsbedingungen, wird man – sofern man die verklausulierte Sprache entziffert bekommt – feststellen, dass man sehr weitreichenden Einstimmungen zustimmt, wenn man die Plattform benutzt. Die Nutzungsrechte sind weltweit dauerhaft und damit unbefristet, unwiderruflich (man kann die Erlaubnis später nicht zurücknehmen), unterlizenzierbar (die Plattform darf diese Rechte weitergeben), übertragbar (sie darf diese Rechte auf andere Firmen übertragen), kostenlos und zweckungebunden (sie darf die Inhalte für jeden Zweck nutzen). Mit dem Benutzen der Seite verzichten die User:innen außerdem auf ihre Urheber-persönlichkeitsrechte – das heißt, Artfacts darf ein Werk benutzen, ohne den Namen des:der Schaffenden zu erwähnen – und die Arbeit darf verändert werden (Verzicht auf das Recht auf Schutz vor Entstellung des eigenen Werkes). Zuletzt gibt man das Einverständnis, das Recht abzugeben, wie das Werk veröffentlicht wird. Diese Bestimmungen sind weitreichend und sollten ernst genommen werden. Wenn Benutzer:innen eigene Kunstwerke, Texte oder Fotos hochladen, sollten sie sich bewusst sein, dass die Kontrolle über deren weitere Nutzung weitgehend abgegeben wird. Artfacts darf Bildmaterial beispielsweise in Werbung, Marketing oder eigenen Kooperationen nutzen – ohne die Autor:innen vorher zu fragen und ohne eine Art von Bezahlung. Autor:innen können außerdem später nicht verlangen, dass etwas entfernt oder nicht weiter benutzt wird. [5] Es ist also festzustellen, dass Artfacts zwar wie ein Werkverzeichnis aufgebaut ist, durch seine inhärente Ranking-Struktur, die Algorithmen und den Fokus auf Popularität sowie die Ungleichheit durch Monetarisierung als Werkverzeichnis zum Dokumentieren der eigenen Arbeit eher unbrauchbar ist. Mit einem Blick auf NPiece soll nun exemplarisch eine Website genauer analysiert werden, die von Künstler:innen für Kunst-schaffende initiiert wurde. NPIECE Die Plattform NPIECE wurde im Jahr 2009 von Marius Wilms gegründet und versteht sich als professioneller Ort zur Präsentation künstlerischer Arbeiten. Laut der internen Statistik der Website sind derzeit über 160 Künstler:innen auf der Plattform registriert. Für die Anmeldung muss zunächst ein Formular eingereicht werden; nach einer Prüfung wird der Account manuell freigeschaltet. Überprüft werden dabei Name, E-Mail-Adresse sowie die eigene Website oder ein Social-Media-Profil. Alternativ kann man auch über einen sogenannten „Token“ direkt eingeladen werden. Auf NPIECE können Bilder, Videos, Texte und PDF-Dateien hochgeladen werden. Die Nutzung ist grundsätzlich kostenfrei. Es besteht jedoch ein Upload-Limit von 20 Dateien mit einem maximalen Gesamtspeicher von 200 MB. Wer mehr Speicherplatz benötigt, muss diesen kostenpflichtig freischalten. Besucher:innen der Website sehen auf der Startseite zufällig ausgewählte Werke aus dem aktuellen Upload-Bestand. Darunter befindet sich ein Diagramm, das die Aktivitäten der Nutzer:innen visualisiert: Wer Inhalte hochlädt oder bearbeitet, erscheint auf diesem Aktivitätsgraphen. Die einzelnen Spitzen lassen sich anklicken und zeigen an, welche Inhalte zu diesem Zeitpunkt verändert wurden. Ein weiteres interessantes Element der Website ist die Übersicht über kommende Ausstellungen. Diese werden chronologisch geordnet angezeigt und bieten einen Einblick in aktuelle Projekte der Community. Wie bei Artfacts sollen so Kunstschaffende präsentiert werden, wobei sich Artfacts getreu seines Credos der Popularität von Autor:innen verschreibt, während NPIECE Kunstwerke per Zufallsprinzip anzeigt und neueste Aktivitäten darstellt. Mit einem kostenlosen Account kann man bei NPIECE eigene Werke hochladen und behält dabei alle Rechte an der eigenen Arbeit. Die moderaten Preise ermöglichen eine gute Alternative zu einer eigenen Website, um seine Arbeiten digital zu erfassen. NPIECE ist eine einfach gehaltene Kunst-Plattform, eine interaktive Form des Portfolios der eigenen Arbeiten. Experimentelle Formate oder ein Verändern des Designs ist hier nicht angedacht. [6] Die Plattform NPIECE kommt der Idee des Werkverzeichnisses deutlich näher als Artfacts. Die Benutzer:innen haben eine größere Freiheit bei der Erstellung ihrer Beiträge und behalten ihre Eigentums-rechte; man kann alle Beiträge ohne Bezahlung öffentlich einsehen. Dennoch gibt es, wenn man ein umfangreiches Portfolio auf der Website präsentieren möchte, die monetäre Hürde des Mitglieds-beitrages. NotFound.Wiki Ausgehend von diesen Plattformen, den Hindernissen und dem Wunsch, eine freie Plattform zu schaffen, wurde NotFound ins Leben gerufen. Diese Plattform soll für immer kostenfrei und ohne Algorithmen funktionieren. NotFound.Wiki ist ein Internetprojekt des deutschen Kunstkollektivs Unit 404 aus dem Jahr 2025. Die Plattform nutzt die Open-Source-Bibliotheken und Codes von WikiMedia. User:innen können eigene Einträge erstellen, Bilder hochladen, Links einfügen und Unterseiten anlegen. Außerdem ist es möglich, Quer-verweise zu bestehenden Beiträgen herzustellen – etwa um eine Gruppenausstellung zu dokumentieren und dabei teilnehmende Künstler:innen miteinander zu verknüpfen. Alle hochgeladenen Werke bleiben urheberrechtlich gesehen Eigentum der Schaffenden, geteilt wird nur die Dokumentation, also die Text- und Bildbeiträge. Rechtlich gesehen laufen alle Nutzungs-rechte unter der sogenannten GNU-Lizenz (General Public License) für freie Dokumentation 1.3 oder höher. [7] Im Unterschied zu den zuvor besprochenen Plattformen geht das Erstellen von Inhalten hier weit über das bloße Ausfüllen vorgefertigter Vorlagen hinaus. Man kann so zum Beispiel eigene Artikel oder Essays verfassen, die nicht mit Quellen belegt sein müssen. Spekulative Beiträge sind ebenso willkommen wie vollkommen fiktionale Inhalte. Man kann auf dieser Plattform also auch werdende Projekte zeigen, wöchentliche oder tägliche Updates in Bezug auf Projekte ergänzen oder die Seite als künstlerisches Tagebuch verwenden. Unit 404 beschreibt das Projekt folgendermaßen: NOT FOUND. ist eine Möglichkeit, unwahrscheinliche Konzepte und unmögliche Kunstwerke zu realisieren. Ein Kunstwerk des Geistes ist von unbegreiflicher Schönheit und übersteigt bei weitem die Möglichkeiten der Materie. Der Magier verwandelt Materialabfälle in erhabene Objekte, ohne sie jemals zu berühren. [...] NOT FOUND. ist ein Zufluchtsort für alle Kunst, die durch die Formalitäten der Verwirklichung eingeschränkt ist. Es skizziert die Leere des nicht realisierten Potenzials. NotFound.Wiki v ersteht sich als kostenfreie, mit einem Einladungslink benutzbare und offene sowie gemeinschaftlich nutzbare Alternative zu kommerziellen Kunstplattformen. Jede Nutzerin und jeder Nutzer besitzt dieselben Rechte; es gibt keine Funktionen, die nur gegen Bezahlung verfügbar wären, es gibt keine Werbeanzeigen. Auch scheinbar banale Dinge wie ein Zeichen-limit für Texte sind hier nicht vorhanden. Die Moderation ist bewusst auf ein Minimum reduziert. Das Kollektiv Unit 404 behält sich lediglich vor, Inhalte zu entfernen, die den Weiterbetrieb der Website gefährden. Das Projekt ist also vielmehr eine Schnittstelle zum Internet als ein klassisches Werkverzeichnis. Benutzer:innen können beispielsweise ihren Webspace für Hosting verwenden, sie können, ähnlich wie bei Github, eigene Codes bereitstellen. Denkbar ist auch der Zugriff auf die Website mittels APIs, um digitale Live-Vorhaben zu entwickeln. Als offene Speicherstelle können aber eben auch unfertige, im Prozess befindliche Projekte wie Notizen eingetragen und geteilt werden. Es geht hier nicht um die reine Außenwirkung, sondern vielmehr um die professionelle Präsentation der eigenen Arbeit. Die Plattform soll über die Zeit wuchern und zu einer mysteriösen Wunderkammer des Internets werden, wo Besucher:innen eingeladen sind, zu suchen, zu erkunden und sich in neuen Welten zu verirren. Der Zugang zur Plattform erfolgt über personalisierte Einladungslinks. Damit kann ein Konto eröffnet werden. Beiträge selbst sollen, wie es bei Werkverzeichnissen üblich ist, unter dem Klarnamen veröffentlicht werden. Auf diese Weise bleibt nachvollziehbar, wer welche Beiträge publiziert hat. Das entstehende Netzwerk bildet zunächst den engeren Kreis des Kollektivs, soll jedoch mit der Zeit organisch wachsen. Ziel ist es, kein anonymes Portal, sondern ein lebendiges, offenes Netz-werk zu schaffen, in dem sich Künstler:innen gegenseitig verorten können. Eine der größten Herausforderungen für das Projekt ist die langfristige Moderation der Inhalte. Mit zunehmender Nutzer:innenzahl wird es notwendig werden, Strategien für eine gemeinschaftliche Qualitäts-sicherung zu entwickeln. Im Idealfall entsteht ein selbstregulierendes System, das durch das gemeinsame Interesse an einer freien und demokratischen Plattform getragen wird. Wenn Sie, liebe Leser:innen, zu der Plattform beitragen möchten, noch weitere Fragen haben oder selbst gerne Ihre Arbeiten dort präsentieren möchten, so können Sie Unit404 jederzeit kontaktieren über: mail@unit404.net. NotFound bleibt 100% kostenfrei und unmonetarisiert und stets im Dienst gemeinschaftlicher „Nützlichkeit“. Unit 404 Wenn ein Link fehlt, erscheint die Fehlermeldung 404. Unit 404 ist ein Kollektiv von Multimedia-Künstler:innen, das diese losen Enden zusammenführt, um etwas Neues zu schaffen, wobei Technologie sowohl Werkzeug als auch Inhalt ist. https://unit404.net/ Gordon Endt ist ein audiovisueller Multimedia-Künstler und Gründungsmitglied des Kunstkollektivs Unit 404. Er studierte Bildende Kunst an der HBK Braunschweig und hat einen Master in Visual Arts & Multimedia an der Polytechnischen Universität in Valencia ab-geschlossen. Neben dem Deutschlandstipendium hatte er ein Stipendium in der Künstlerstadt Kalbe, studierte an der Vilnius Academy of Arts und war Stipendiat der Oldenburger Kunstschule. www.gordonendt.com [1] https://artfacts.net/about , abgerufen am 07.11.2025 [2] „Why is my artist profile on Artfacts?“, https://artfacts.net/faq , abgerufen am 14.01.2025 [3] „Mapping the art world“, https://artfacts.net/ , abgerufen am 07.11.2025 [4] Paywall: Funktion auf Internetseiten, die den Zugang zu bestimmten Inhalten erst nach Entrichtung einer Gebühr zulässt. Siehe https://www.duden.de/rechtschreibung/Paywall , abgerufen am 30.11.2025. [5] „Terms“, https://artfacts.net/info/terms , zuletzt abgerufen am 07.11.2025 [6] https://npiece.com/about?l=de#terms , zuletzt abgerufen am 07.11.2025 [7] GNU-Lizenz für freie Dokumentation 1.3 oder höher, https://www.gnu.org/licenses/fdl-1.3.html , abgerufen a m 25.11.2025 Screenshot von Artfacts, aufgerufen am 20.11.25 Bild 2: Screenshot von https://artfacts.net/artist/gordon-endt , aufgerufen am 20.11.25 Screenshot von https://npiece.com/?l=de , aufgerufen am 25.11.25 Screenshot von https://npiece.com/?l=de , aufgerufen am 25.11.25 Screenshot von https://lib.notfound.wiki/Main_Page , aufgerufen am 26.11.25

Hugo Münsterbergs Technology of Subliminal Control Nina Franz Read here in GERMAN Users of digital platforms such as Google, Instagram, Facebook, and Amazon are regularly exposed to more or less subtle forms of algorithmic control, which, as Thomas Berns and Antoinette Rouvroy have emphasised, is based on “the automated collection, aggregation and analysis of big data so as to model, anticipate and pre-emptively affect possible behaviours” (Berns/Rouvroy 2013). In this context, social psychologist Shoshana Zuboff speaks of the exploitation of “behavioral surplus”: interests, emotions, and personality patterns become a resource for data extraction, on the basis of which users’ behaviour can be profitably guided and controlled (Zuboff 2019: 21). Awareness of such forms of subliminal control—for which the methods of predictive artificial intelligence stand as the most recent example—is, depending on users’ level of knowledge, barely or only slightly developed. This brief article aims to place today’s digital technologies for predicting and influencing behaviour within the context of a history of “Psychotechnics“ that dates back over a century. Drawing on a self-proclaimed science of “psychological influence and control” (Münsterberg 1914: 136), in his 1914 work Grundzüge der Psychotechnik Hugo Münsterberg outlined a programme for shaping virtually every aspect of human life. A careful reading of Münsterberg’s writings today is enlightening in that they reveal the connection between the early history of psychological experimentation and the ideological programmes of eugenics—a heritage, that arguably laid the groundworks for today’s psychological approaches to how humans interact with technology. Abb. 1: Harvard Psychological Laboratory in Dane Hall: Instruments for Experiments on Sight Fig. 2: Fictionalized depiction of one of Münsterberg’s experimental setups from a report in Cosmopolitan Magazine, 1915