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 / Building Blocks of the Curatorial Interface

Throughout this research, I grappled with the fluid terminology defining digital artistic practices—specifically, the persistent entanglement of net art and internet art as interchangeable descriptors for works sharing conceptual or technical parameters.

I traced internet art’s definitional unruliness from its earliest manifestations—a struggle radiating far beyond mere terminological slippage (Internet/net/web/telematic). The friction surfaced not in the medium’s technological ephemerality, nor in curatorial anxieties about preserving what evades physical capture, but in the impossible cartography of practice: how to distil a field of radical heterogeneity—spanning code-based performances, browser hacks, NFT subversions, and networked activism—into a coherent, bounded category. Every attempt felt like trying to map a rhizome with Cartesian coordinates


This lexical ambiguity reflects a broader disciplinary tension: while key texts catalogue strikingly similar artworks, they impose divergent taxonomic frameworks. Consider Art Happens Here: Net Art Anthology (2019), which anchors itself in "net art" to frame seminal works by Olia Lialina or JODI; conversely, Rachel Greene’s foundational Internet Art (2004) deliberately adopts the latter term to synthesise the movement’s early evolution under a unified critical lens. More recently, Omar Kholeif’s Internet_Art: From the Birth of the Web to the Rise of NFTs (2023) further complicates this landscape, advancing yet another definitional boundary around what constitutes net art in a post-blockchain era. This terminological variety reveals how the field’s pioneers consciously resist fixed categorisations, mirroring the very fluidity and decentralisation that characterise the artworks themselves.

To further illustrate this definitional fluidity, I turn to Annet Dekker’s Curating Digital Art: From Presenting and Collecting Digital Art to Networked Co-curating (2021), a volume comprised of interviews conducted with curators, artists, and designers between 2011 and 2020. Each conversation begins with the same probing question: “Can we start by defining the terminology we’re using and how you position yourself within existing categories like digital art, new media, net art, contemporary art, or any form of the post-arts?” (Dekker, 2021, p. 37). 1 What emerges is not merely a divergence in how individuals align themselves with particular categories, but a fundamental dissonance in how those very categories are understood and articulated. For instance, Domenico Quaranta describes “‘contemporary art’ as the term I usually use to refer to the art I am dealing with: art that always responds to the Information Age”, yet simultaneously privileges net art for its engagement with community and connectivity rather than medium-specificity (Quaranta in Dekker, 2021, p. 37). 2 In contrast, Tom Clark and Rózsa Farkas problematise the category of contemporary art itself, arguing that within their practice the emphasis falls not on art objects but on virtual processes, making it counter-intuitive to assign fixed designations. They suggest instead that the practice is simply “within art” (Clark and Farkas in Dekker, 2021, p. 47). 3

This tension around categorisation extends beyond mere application to outright rejection: Amber van den Eeden and Kalle Mattsson, for example, resist specific labels in favour of representing “a vision regarding the creating situations of our time” or, as they reframe it, “we tell stories” (Van den Eeden and Mattsson in Dekker, 2021, p. 59). 4 A similarly expansive position is articulated by Marialaura Ghidini, who defines her curatorial practice as an exploration of media, technologies, and their intercommunication—noting that, since many of the technologies currently engaged are networked or web-based, these become the primary entities under examination (Ghidini in Dekker, 2021, p. 117). 5 Perhaps most pointedly, Madja Edelstein-Gomez does not dismiss the historical necessity of categories, but proposes instead to “summon the art categories to the foreground and discuss them in order to make them clash” (Edelstein-Gomez in Dekker, 2021, p. 83). 6 This strategic destabilisation of terminology resonates deeply with my own methodological struggles throughout this research. The task of classifying digital artistic practices today, particularly from a curatorial perspective, is compounded by the fact that artists frequently work across, between, or against categories. To represent such work under a single, confined term risks not only limitation but misrepresentation, a dilemma that has propelled me to refine my own categorical parameters and embrace a lexicon capable of accommodating multiplicity, contingency, and critical flux.

After considering various categories such as digital art, contemporary art, and others, the term that resonated most profoundly with my practice was net art—a designation I employ in much the same spirit as Anika Meier, who describes it as “an umbrella term because the Internet is the common ground and the starting point” (Meier in Dekker, 2021, p. 276). 7 Yet even this seemingly expansive category revealed its own definitional instabilities. Throughout this research, I found myself moving between internet art and net art, searching for a term that might more accurately reflect the curatorial practices I sought to examine. This uncertainty is far from unique to my own position. Manique Hendricks, for instance, defines internet art as work “created and/or presented in an online environment” (Hendricks in Dekker, 2021, p. 109), 8 while Bicknell-Knight offers a strikingly similar formulation for net art, characterising it as art “exclusively made for the internet, or resides on it” (Bicknell-Knight in Dekker, 2020, p. 133). 9 Yet such medium-based definitions quickly prove problematic. As Sakrowski astutely cautions, defining net art primarily through its technological support risks rendering it so broad that it becomes “everything and nothing at the same time” a category so inclusive it loses all critical specificity (Sakrowski in Dekker, 2021, p. 169). 10 This tension culminates in Marie Meixnerová’s provocative suggestion that net art may be growing redundant, gradually merging with contemporary art as digital connectivity ceases to be a distinct domain and instead permeates nearly all artistic production. From both artistic and curatorial perspectives, this absorption is particularly palpable following the emergence of ‘post’ terminology around 2006, which reframes web-based works in ways that can feel paradoxically limiting even as they aim to historicise (Meixnerová in Dekker, 2021, p. 179). 11 In the end, these definitional struggles are not merely semantic—they reveal a deeper, ongoing negotiation between medium, context, and cultural meaning within digitally-mediated artistic practices.

The challenge of terminology extended beyond the choice between internet art and net art to encompass the orthography of the latter term itself. Among its various iterations, the formulation net.art remains the most historically stable and connotatively rich, deliberately evoking the movement’s nascent years in the 1990s. Its provenance is well-documented: first coined by Pit Schultz of the nettime collective for a 1995 exhibition in Berlin featuring Vuk Ćosić and Alexei Shulgin, the term was later cemented at the 1996 “net.art per se” meeting in Trieste, which also produced a seminal prank website parodying CNN. The term’s mythic origin—reportedly born from an email corrupted into a “morass of alphanumeric junk” from which only ‘net.art’ emerged legible—further underscores its deeply embedded, almost glitch-essentialist connection to early networked culture. However, this clarity dissipates when one considers the subsequent proliferation of stylistic variants, each attempting to recalibrate the term’s conceptual boundaries. Constant Dullaart employs the hyphenated net-art to designate works that “emphasise the medium-specific materiality of the global computer networked landscape” (Dullaart in Dekker, 2021, p. 267), 12 a spelling that visually performs the connection and tension between the ‘net’ and the ‘art’. In a more contemporary framing, Omar Kholeif adopts the underscored Net_art in his recent publication Internet_Art: From the Birth of the Web to the Rise of NFTs (2021), a typographical choice that mirrors the syntax of a digital file name or URL, thus anchoring the term within a specific platform logic while attempting to chart a continuous history of the form from 1989 to the present. This orthographic plasticity is not merely stylistic pedantry; each mark—the dot, the hyphen, the underscore—functions as a critical diacritic, signalling a distinct historical moment, theoretical priority, and curatorial stance towards its unstable object of study.


My methodological navigation of these terms thus became an act of critical cartography: mapping how language shapes perception, while acknowledging that digital art’s essence thrives in its resistance to containment. What emerges as a common thread throughout Annet Dekker’s collection of interviews is that net art is consistently framed through its engagement with communication, connectivity, and the critical use of technology, a practice that observes, scrutinises, and seeks to make sense of our present environment.


While I am sympathetic to the liberating impulse to resist categorisation, recognising, as many interviewees do, that fixed terms can limit interpretation and obscure meaningful connections between artists and curators, I also maintain that well-defined parameters are essential for the academic discourse. It is precisely the plurality of definitions, however, and the varied applications of the term across curatorial practices, that empowered me to articulate my own methodological stance. Rather than adhering strictly to one source or definition, this landscape has allowed me to synthesise a position that is both creative and critically grounded, tailoring terminology that reflects the specific contours of my curatorial inquiry.


From this perspective, I have identified the central term that anchors this research: Curatorial Interface. This concept, elaborated further in this chapter, functions as a conceptual beacon, enabling a fluid movement between online and physical spaces, between independent curatorial practice and artist-led experimentation, and between technological innovation and creative expression. It provides a coherent yet flexible framework through which the tensions and possibilities of net art curation can be systematically explored.

To define the Curatorial Interface, the central conceptual framework and primary contribution of this thesis, it is essential first to establish the nature of the artistic field it engages with and the environment in which it operates. This requires a clear, nuanced understanding of both ‘net art’ and ‘interface’ as distinct but profoundly interrelated constructs. Net art is not merely art that uses the network as a tool, but art for which the network—its protocols, aesthetics, and social dynamics—is the fundamental condition of its existence. As a discipline born from and residing within the network, it undergoes continuous transformation, its ideologies, aesthetics, and media evolving in lockstep with the digital environment it inhabits. This inherent mutability defies rigid taxonomies, a characteristic noted by Jon Ippolito, who observed that “Art on this electronic frontier - known variously as Internet art, online art, or Net art - matured at the same breakneck pace with digital technology itself has expanded” (2002, p. 486). 1 The fluid nature of net art defies rigid classification, continually extending its boundaries and complicating efforts to define its essential characteristics. 

For this dissertation, the term ‘net art’ is adopted as the primary designation. This choice aligns with the nuanced terminology tracked by the platform Rhizome.org, which distinguishes ‘net art’ as the term favoured by artists themselves, reserving ‘Internet art’ for more institutional contexts and ‘net.art’ for the specific mid-1990s movement (Rhizome, 2017). The informality of ‘net art’ is particularly fitting, reflecting not only the critical use of the web as a medium but also encompassing more vernacular digital practices. Early critical engagements with net art predominantly focused on its technological novelty, seeking to delineate it from other digital art forms such as screen-based installations. Scholars like Rachael Green positioned it as an art of cyberspace, noting it “...resides in a largely open zone... manifesting itself on computer desktops anywhere in the world but rarely in museum halls and white cube galleries...” (2004, p. 8). 1 

Concurrently, Alexander R. Galloway framed its definition as inherently “tactical,” an aesthetic defined by its “oppositional position vis-à-vis previous, often inadequate, forms of cultural production” (2004, p. 212). 1 These foundational perspectives underscore net art’s innate situatedness within the digital realm and its initial focus on reflecting the new technological condition.

Net art practice has evolved since these early definitions, particularly with the normalisation of physicality in both artworks and exhibition practices from the mid-2000s onwards. To encapsulate this expanded contemporary dimension, this thesis employs a definition articulated by Michael Conner, Artistic Director of Rhizome, who describes net art as “the art of a new social paradigm: the information one, where emergent forms of power and social organisation escape traditional models of representation... an effort to come to terms with the nascent conditions of the network while participating in it” (2019, p. 9). 1 This perspective aligns profoundly with the core argument of this research. The “new social paradigm” Connor identifies can be deciphered through Manuel Castells' theory of the "network society," where internet technology facilitates new social structures characterised by decentralisation and algorithmic logic. Net art, as a practice embedded within this very technology, both reflects and critically examines these profound social and cultural influences. 

Furthermore, by “escaping traditional models of representation,” net art inherently challenges the hierarchical and selective methodologies of traditional museum and gallery spaces. This aligns with Josia Krysa’s assertion in Curating Immateriality (2006) that network-based curation offers vast new possibilities, simultaneously limiting the control of authoritative institutions and empowering smaller artistic communities to experiment and build audiences. Krysa, drawing on Galloway’s (2004) analysis of networked protocols, identifies a central question for curatorial practice in this context: "If the assumption is made that traditional curating follows a centralised network model, then what is the position of the curator within the distributed network?” (2006, p.16). 4 Her response posits the curator as a ‘filter feeder,’ an agent operating within a continuous process of selection and filtration. The decentralised architecture of the internet fosters participatory environments that enable novel forms of collaboration between artists, curators, and audiences. This is exemplified by initiatives like The Wrong Biennale, which, in its 2023 edition, employed strategies such as presenting projects as unsequenced blocks of text and empowering participants to create their own pavilions, thereby subverting singular, centralised curatorial frameworks.

Finally, Connor’s definition underscores net art’s capacity to react to “the nascent conditions of the network while participating in it” (2019, p. 9), 2 highlighting that the network is not merely a distribution channel but a constitutive field of action. This leads to a crucial ontological distinction: unlike a physical artefact, a net art work’s existence is fundamentally contingent on technological performance.

 As Dragan Espenschied succinctly states, “What we see as the object... is when you turn the computer off, the object is usually gone, so you need the performance of the computer to make this object appear” (Espenschied, 2021). 1 From this perspective, the computer is a vital component that enlivens the artwork through the execution of code, while the interface serves as the essential mediating layer that enables user interaction. Without this interface, there can be no meaningful engagement with the net art entity. It is this interconnected relationship—between the networked process, the performing machine, and the mediating interface—that necessitates the examination of net art exhibition practices through the specific lens of how digital space is curated, a framework this thesis terms the Curatorial Interface.

 It is an artistic practice intrinsically linked to what Christiane Paul describes as a shift in focus “from object to process: as an inherently time-based, dynamic, interactive, collaborative, customizable, and variable art form, new media art resists ‘objectification’ and challenges traditional notions of the object” (Paul, 2006, p. 1). 1 The computer, therefore, is not a passive display mechanism but a vital, performative component that brings the net art entity to life through the execution of algorithmic or code-based tasks.

This dynamic performance unfolds within a specific, constructed milieu: digital space. This term, which has largely superseded the more science-fiction-inflected ‘cyberspace’ of Gibson (1984) and Benedikt (1992), encompasses the broad spectrum of online environments and digital realms accessed and developed via internet technology. In 1982, the term cyberspace was first coined by science fiction writer William Gibson in his short story Burning Chrome and later elaborated upon in his pioneering work Neuromancer (1984). Gibson envisioned cyberspace as a “conceptual hallucination” and a “nonspace,” imbuing it with a poetic quality as “a space that is not a space” (1984, p. 51).

This conceptualisation of cyberspace underwent a transformation in the mid-1990s as advancements in computer technology began to materialise it beyond the realm of science fiction, integrating it into the “collective unconscious.” Mark Benedikt, in his influential text Cyberspace: First Steps, offers a more comprehensive definition, describing cyberspace as “a coherent and global virtual world, independent of how it is accessed and navigated” (1992, p.130). 1 This definition allows Benedikt to include Virtual reality (VR) into the overall understanding of cyberspace and to analyse it from both the mathematical logic of Euclidean space and its metaphorical existence. 

Subsequently, in 1999, Lance Strate provided a more concise characterisation of cyberspace, defining it as “the diverse experiences of space associated with computing and related technologies” (1999, p. 383). 1 This definition captures the multifaceted nature of cyberspace as a collective concept. 

As this dissertation’s conceptual mapping illustrates, digital space is the encompassing category that has evolved from the early theoretical notion of cyberspace, expanding to include the vast, everyday digital topography shaped by Web 2.0 and social media (Nunes, 2006). 1 Digital space is characterised by its non-physical yet paradoxically material reality (comprising wires, cables, and servers), its constant, dynamic evolution, and its capacity for global interactivity that transcends traditional spatial and temporal constraints, resonating with Manuel Castells' notions of the ‘space of flows’. A primary, defining element is its essential reliance on network connectivity, which provides the global access and interaction that net art requires, not just for distribution, but to function as its very self. However, digital space remains an expansive, umbrella term. To move from a general understanding of this environment to a precise analysis of how net art is exhibited and experienced within it, a more focused lens is required—that of the interface, a concept integrated into the expanded analytical framework.

The interface is the crucial, constitutive layer that enables and structures user interaction with the artwork; without it, there is no meaningful, accessible experience of net art. In its fundamental technological sense, the interface serves, as Søren Pold articulates, to "represent the data, the data flow, and data structures of the computer to the human senses, while simultaneously setting up a frame for human input and interaction, and translating this back into the machine" (Pold, 2005, p. 4). 1 

It is the active mediator that renders the dynamic flux of binary data legible and navigable to human perception. This process of translation and mediation is far from neutral. Lev Manovich, in The Language of New Media (2001), draws a direct and powerful parallel between the traditional aesthetic concept of form and the technological reality of the interface, arguing that “the old dichotomies of content - form and content - medium can be rewritten as content - interface” (Manovich, 2001, p. 66). 1 He further asserts that to eliminate the interface from the analysis of new media art is to fundamentally undermine its status as art, as the interface is the very site where meaning is generated and negotiated. Alexander Galloway, in The Interface Effect (2012), reinforces this by radically defining the interface not as a static object but as a dynamic, relational process, stating that “the interface is not a thing; an interface is always an effect. 

It is always a process or a translation” (Galloway, 2012, p. 33). 2 This perspective shifts our understanding from the interface as a surface to the interface as an ongoing event of mediation.


It is precisely this event-like, mediating quality that net art takes as its primary subject and material for experimentation. Net art’s critical objective is to probe and experiment with this condition of digital existence. It deliberately diverges from the dominant commercial and utilitarian design paradigm, famously articulated by Johanna Drucker (2021), that seeks to make the interface a transparent, intuitive, and invisible window—a set of principles encompassing clean logos, top-placed navigation, and unobtrusive functionality. 

Instead, as Pold notes, "digital art explores the current materiality and culture of the interface's representational effects" (Pold, 2005, p. 4). 2 It makes the interface palpable, strange, and visible, forcing a critical awareness of its workings. An experimental artwork like Image Atlas (2012–ongoing) by artist Taryn Simon and programmer Aaron Swartz, created for Rhizome’s Seven on Seven conference, exemplifies this critical approach. The work investigates the differences and similarities in local image search engine results across various countries, functioning as an interface that mediates between the user and online information sources. In doing so, it highlights the contingent and culturally situated nature of these platforms, as well as their power to shape both knowledge and visual culture. Though the Graphical User Interface (GUI) of Image Atlas is simple, it displays rows of images resulting from a specific search term in Google across different countries. Users input terms into the search engine, and the site presents results as rows of thumbnail images, each labelled with its country of origin and the local translation of the search term, set against a black background. This work exposes the stark differences in image search results, revealing the intricate relationship between language and image. For instance, a search for the term "internet art" yields both similarities and significant differences in various countries. The United States and the United Kingdom, for example, produce nearly identical results, likely reflecting the close political and cultural ties between the two nations. 

Meanwhile, artworks by post-internet artist Artie Vierkant appear in searches from France, Germany, and Russia, highlighting the geographical dissemination of certain cultural artefacts. Similarly, Omar Kholeif’s Internet Art: From the Birth of the Web to the Rise of NFTs (2023) appears in searches from English-speaking countries like the UK, the US, and New Zealand. In contrast, searches from countries like Saudi Arabia and North Korea show minimal results related to internet art, reflecting the marginal presence of the movement in these regions. As Taryn Simon explains, "Image Atlas attempts to give the hidden space between cultures a visual route in a simple and accessible form, while drawing attention to the complexities surrounding the idea of a visual language" (Simons, n.d.). This project thus provides a framework for understanding the global reception and interpretation of internet art, revealing how interface design and search engine algorithms mediate cultural and political ideologies. 


The project functions explicitly as a meta-interface; its simple Graphical User Interface (GUI) presents rows of images resulting from a single search term across Google’s various national engines. By mediating and juxtaposing these geographically filtered results, it critically exposes the culturally contingent and inherently ideological nature of the information we receive through seemingly neutral platforms, highlighting how interface design and algorithmic logic actively shape knowledge and visual culture. As Simon explains, "Image Atlas attempts to give the hidden space between cultures a visual route... while drawing attention to the complexities surrounding the idea of a visual language" (Simons, n/d). Such art reveals the interface as an "aesthetic, cultural, and ideological object" (Pold, 2005, p. 4), 3 a concept powerfully echoed by Wendy Hui Kyong Chun, who, drawing on Althusser, examines how software interfaces structure our vision and mediate our imaginary relation to our real conditions of existence (Chun, 2006). 1

 It is at the critical intersection of net art’s experimental drive, the expansive nature of digital space, and the mediating, effect-producing function of the interface that this thesis posits and develops the concept of the Curatorial Interface. The Curatorial Interface is proposed as a multilayered environment where internet art exhibitions are not just housed, but actively constituted. It is a space where the roles of artists, curators, and users converge and collaborate to develop and present projects that inherently reflect broader cultural, social, and political dynamics. This concept allows us to move beyond analysing the interface solely for its technological function or its artistic subversion, and instead to examine it as a deliberately shaped, critically engaged exhibition space in its own right. The curatorial decisions in this realm are not merely about selection and arrangement, but about the very architecture of the digital encounter.


The operational logic of the Curatorial Interface, therefore, often deliberately parts from the established principles of user-friendly, transparent design. Platforms and exhibitions dedicated to net art, which form the case studies of this thesis—Rhizome, The Wrong, and IsThisIt?—frequently employ unconventional, sometimes deliberately obtuse, architectures that foreground the act of mediation. To briefly demonstrate this point, I reference Johanna Drucker's The Digital Humanities Coursebook: An Introduction to Digital Methods for Research and Scholarship (2021), which includes a chapter on interface design. Drucker outlines five basic principles for effective interface design: the use of a clean, clear logo with a readable masthead that immediately communicates the website purpose; the placement of navigation elements at the top of the webpage, avoiding decorative elements unrelated to functionality; ensuring that navigation is not positioned at the bottom of the page; prominently featuring new information at the top of the page; and maintaining the visibility of navigation elements to enable seamless movement between pages (Drucker, 2021, p. 179). 2 When applying these principles to platforms such as The Wrong and Rhizome, it becomes evident that these platforms differ from standard interface design conventions.

For example, The Wrong does not adhere to conventional menu placement or site architecture. Instead of a clear, structured menu, it showcases the previous biennale in the form of Wrong TV, which randomly selects and presents works without a specific order. The menu itself is located at the bottom of the webpage and consists of only three entries. During its 2023 biennale, the site featured Wrong TV at the top, followed by a series of links to different exhibitions, which were presented as a block of text without any specific order. A similar non-standard approach can be observed on Rhizome’s website. Rather than offering a modular menu, Rhizome presents a two-sentence description of its mission, with keywords hyperlinked to other sections of the site. These hyperlinked words serve as both the menu and the primary means of navigation. The homepage also includes articles on recent events and activities, with links embedded in the text leading to additional information. Drucker notes that indexes are "used more rarely in websites for research than in printed books," yet much of Rhizome’s architecture relies on indexes or tags to organise content (Drucker, 2021, p. 180). 3 

These are not design failures but curated, critical choices. They constitute a form of curatorial practice that intentionally foregrounds the interface itself, challenging the user to engage with the digital environment on different, more conscious terms. This approach facilitates what Josia Krysa, in Curating Immateriality (2006), identifies as a more democratic, decentralised curatorial model for the network age. Within the distributed networks of the internet, the curator’s role shifts from that of a centralised authorial figure to a ‘filter feeder’ operating within a participatory environment, selecting and filtering content amidst a continuous flow, a dynamic clearly visible in The Wrong’s structure which empowers individual curators to define their own pavilions (Krysa, 2006). 5

In conclusion, the Curatorial Interface is defined as the core conceptual and practical framework through which the exhibition of net art is analysed in this dissertation. It understands the digital exhibition space not as a pre-existing, neutral container but as a dynamic, layered, and ideological construct that is performed into being. It acknowledges that to exhibit net art is to engage actively with the interface—the very material and process of digital space—and in doing so, to make curatorial decisions that are inherently and simultaneously technological, cultural, and political. By pursuing the "ever-changing appearances" (Pold, 2005, p. 23)  4 of the Curatorial Interface across platforms like Rhizome, The Wrong, and IsThisIt?, this research a robust understanding of how the active curation of digital space’s fundamental structures—its interfaces—profoundly shapes the creation, reception, and very possibility of preserving net art itself.

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