/ The Interfacial Stack
To understand the automated architecture of The Wrong Archives and the page-generation processes at its core, where software communicates with software to produce curatorial space, requires moving beyond the interface as a visual screen. This chapter, therefore, traces the conceptual evolution of the “interface” from a simple boundary to a complex, layered computational system. This historical and theoretical examination is necessary to establish the precise analytical framework for my investigation: Benjamin Bratton’s model of The Stack. Bratton’s schema is essential because it reframes the interface not as a singular graphical layer (the GUI) but as one stratum within a vertical assemblage of interconnected layers, from Earth to User, wherein planetary-scale computation occurs. This perspective is uniquely equipped to analyse phenomena like The Wrong's archives, where curation is executed through automated software protocols, API calls, and server-side generation, largely independent of direct human mediation at the point of assembly. To justify why Bratton’s framework is the appropriate tool, and not a simpler GUI-centric model, I must first deconstruct how the term “interface” itself has been theoretically expanded. By charting its progression from a chemical definition, through cybernetic and software studies taxonomies (like Cramer and Fuller’s four layers), to Bratton’s geopolitical stack, this history provides the critical foundation. It demonstrates why an analysis limited to the visual user experience is inadequate for dissecting a curatorial system built on machine-to-machine communication. Ultimately, this detailed lineage justifies my methodological choice: only by adopting Bratton’s layered, infrastructural concept of the interface can we fully dissect the operational logic of algorithmically generated archives and articulate how such systems constitute a distinct form of digital curatorial practice.
The term "interface" first emerged in the field of chemistry in 1882, referring to the oil-water interface and describing "a surface forming a common boundary of two bodies, spaces, or phases" (Merriam-Webster, 2024). 1 This notion of a common boundary between two entities has since been extended to computing, where it encompasses multiple layers of interactions. In computing, each layer functions as an interface, integral to the operation of computational machines, ranging from expansive surveillance systems to personal computers.
At its most fundamental level, an interface can be defined as "a common boundary or link in a cybernetic loop, either between machine components or between humans and machines" (Cramer, 2011, p. 117). 1 This definition implies two distinct modes of interplay with technology: one that occurs solely between technological objects and the other that necessitates human involvement to establish the connection.
While this definition provides a foundational understanding of what constitutes an interface, it introduces complexities when applied to the context of this thesis. Specifically, if the term "interface" is used to denote the digital space where internet art exhibition practices occur, it becomes crucial to clarify whether the reference is to an interface between machines or between humans and machines. To mitigate this potential ambiguity, human-computer interaction is often associated with the Graphical User Interface (GUI); however, machine-to-machine communication cannot be adequately described by a single layer of interaction. As discussed in the chapter "Interface," published as part of Software Studies: A Lexicon (2008), Florian Cramer and Matthew Fuller identify four additional layers of interfaces beyond the GUI. This expanded understanding underscores the complexity and multifaceted nature of interfaces within the notion of computing.
A typology of interfaces thus reads:
- hardware that connects users to hardware; typically input/output devices such as keyboards or sensors, and feedback devices such as screens or loudspeakers;
- hardware that connects hardware to hardware; such as network interconnection points and bus systems;
- software, or hardware-embedded logic, that connects hardware to software; the instruction set of a processor or device drivers, for example;
- specifications and protocols that determine relations between software and software, that is, application programming interfaces (APIs); (Cramer and Fuller, 2008, p. 149). 1
These four interfaces are seldom analysed within media studies, where the term "user interface" or GUI is frequently conflated with "interface" as a whole (Cramer and Fuller, 2008, p. 149). 2 A few years later, Cramer expanded upon this observation, referring to this conflation as the "restrained interface," a concept borrowed from the French literary theorist Gérard Genette.
Genette's notion of "restrained rhetoric" describes the evolution of literary studies, which gradually shifted from the broad analysis of rhetoric to a narrower focus on figures of speech, eventually centring on the single figure of metaphor. In a parallel manner, Cramer argues that "graphical human-to-software-user interfaces are inherently linked to an emphasis on the visual metaphors embedded within these interfaces" (Cramer, 2011, p. 118). 2 This claim is difficult to dispute, as the concept of metaphor is featured in the early texts on the visual elements of GUIs from one of the most prominent figures in GUI design, Alan Kay.
In the late 1960s, while pursuing his graduate studies at the University of Utah, Alan Kay studied under Ivan Sutherland, a pioneering figure whose groundbreaking work laid the foundation for the field of interactive computer graphics. In 1968, Kay attended Douglas Engelbart's landmark demonstration of the oNLine System, a presentation that introduced the computer mouse and, for the first time, suggested the concept of "navigating" through an information space. During the early 1970s, after establishing the Learning Research Group at the newly formed Xerox Palo Alto Research Center (PARC), Kay integrated these formative influences into what is widely regarded as one of the most significant advancements in human-computer interaction: the graphical user interface (GUI). Through his research on the intuitive processes underlying learning and creativity, Kay conceptualised the idea of iconic, graphical representations of computing functions—such as folders, menus, and overlapping windows—on the desktop, thereby transforming the landscape of computer usability.
One of the most compelling snares is the use of the term metaphor to describe a correspondence between what the users see on the screen and how they should think about what they are manipulating. My main complaint is that metaphor is a poor metaphor for what needs to be done. At PARC we coined the phrase user illusion to describe what we were about when designing the user interface. There are clear connotations to the stage, theatrics, and magic—all of which give much stronger hints as to the direction to be followed. For example, the screen as "paper to be marked on" is a metaphor that suggests pencils, brushes, and typewriting. Fine, as far as it goes. But it is the magic-understandable magic—that really counts. Should we transfer the paper metaphor so perfectly that the screen is as hard as paper to erase and change? Clearly not. If it is to be like magical paper, then it is the magical part that is all important and that must be most strongly attended to in the user interface design (Kay, 1989, p. 199). 1
Alan Kay identified a fundamental issue with metaphors in computing: they often lack the "magic" that can arise from the symbiosis between computational technology and media representation. Consider, for instance, the metaphor of the "recycling bin" in the Windows operating system. Originally, this feature was referred to as a "trash bin," but following the 1994 Apple Computer, Inc. v. Microsoft Corporation lawsuit, it was determined that the trash can icon and folder icons in Hewlett-Packard's NewWave Windows application infringed upon Apple's design and needed to be changed. The user experiences an illusion here because the metaphor is designed for human comprehension, while the computer interprets it differently. To explain, when a file is erased, it is moved to the recycling bin, where it remains until manually deleted. However, even after this deletion, the file is not truly removed from the computer; rather, the system shows empty space that can be reused. The file persists on the hardware until the equivalent space is occupied by another file of the same size. For example, if a 5-gigabyte file is deleted from the recycling bin, it will remain on the hardware until a new 5-gigabyte file is created or uploaded, at which point the original file is permanently erased. From this perspective, the computer effectively "recycles" available data, allowing users to reclaim and reuse space. The "magic" that Kay referred to emerges from the user's interaction with technology; users do not need to understand the underlying system to use the recycling bin effectively. The recycling bin metaphor is intuitively understood because it parallels real-life experience. Just as a small bin is placed next to a home office desk instead of outside the house, the desktop metaphor simplifies the interaction between users and the computer.
This concept of metaphor or symbolic representation extends beyond the recycling bin icon to the entire graphical user interface (GUI), which is itself a desktop metaphor. The desktop metaphor was first introduced by Alan Kay, David C. Smith, and others at Xerox PARC in the 1970s and was further developed through a series of innovative software applications by PARC scientists throughout the following decade. The experimental Xerox Alto was the first computer to use an early version of this desktop metaphor, and the Xerox Star was the first commercial computer to adopt this type of interface. The use of window controls to organise related information predates the desktop metaphor, with a primitive version appearing in Douglas Engelbart's "Mother of All Demos." However, it was PARC's incorporation of these concepts within the Smalltalk environment that truly established the desktop metaphor. It became widely popularised with the release of the Apple Macintosh in 1984, which adopted it as a standard feature, moving away from the earlier command-line interface. Today, the desktop metaphor is ubiquitous in personal computing, embedded in most desktop environments of modern operating systems, including Windows, macOS, Linux, and other Unix-like systems.
The relevance of the desktop metaphor to the real-life home office environment has been extensively examined in media studies. As Bolter and Grusin articulate in Remediation: Understanding New Media (2000) “the desktop metaphor, which has replaced the wholly textual command-line interface, is intended to assimilate the computer to the physical desktop and to the materials (file folders, sheets of paper, in-box, trash basket, etc.) familiar to office workers”(2000, p. 23). 2 Bolter and Grusin used the desktop metaphor to explain the concept of intermediacy.
Referring to the work of Douglas Engelbart and Alan Kay, they observed that the primary objective was "to make the surface of these windows, the interface itself, transparent" (Bolter and Grusin, 2000, p. 23). 3 Donald A. Norman, often referred to as the father of UX (user experience) design, is a prominent advocate for interface transparency. In his influential essay "Why Interfaces Don’t Work," Norman critiques GUI interfaces for their visibility, which, in his view, disrupts the illusion of a seamless transition into the digital world.
He argues, "the real problem with the interface is that it is an interface. Interfaces get in the way. I don’t want to focus my energies on an interface" (Norman, 1980, p. 210). 1 From Norman's perspective, the interface is merely a tool to facilitate the user's tasks, and when it becomes noticeable, it diverts attention and energy that could be better spent on more meaningful activities.
However, Norman's ideas on transparency have been criticised for limiting user choices and creativity, effectively rendering the user invisible (Lialina, 2012). 1 These debates on interface transparency and the potential disappearance of the user are particularly important to curatorial practice on the internet, as they raise questions about the roles of curator and user in the digital context. These issues will be further explored in the subchapter “User/Curator/Artist,” but for now, let us return to the concept of intermediacy in the interface.
For Bolter and Grusin, the concept of immediacy within the interface is most effectively realised through virtual reality (VR) technology or gaming interfaces. In contrast, the User Interface (UI) is more emblematic of hypermediacy. As they explain, "where immediacy suggests a unified visual space, contemporary hypermediacy offers a heterogeneous space, in which representation is conceived of not as a window onto the world, but rather as 'windowed' itself—with windows that open onto other representations or other media" (Bolter and Grusin, 2000, p. 34). 4 In essence, hypermediacy manifests through the multiplicity of windows that are simultaneously open and active on a computer screen. Each open window, whether a text editor, design software, or webpage, presents the user with its own unique set of signs and symbols, creating a distinct experience of immediacy with the content displayed. When the user transitions from one window to another, this sense of immediacy is disrupted, and the presence of the interface is once again brought to the forefront. This constant alternation and awareness of multiple windows contribute to the effect of hypermediacy, wherein the user is partially absorbed into the illusion of digital space but is simultaneously and repeatedly reminded of the surrounding environment. In this context, the GUI shifts from merely embodying the desktop metaphor to becoming a medium that facilitates human-computer interaction.
When Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin published Remediation: Understanding New Media in 1999, it was clear that their work was deeply influenced by Marshall McLuhan's text, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964). Their examination of hypermediacy and immediacy within digital interfaces extends McLuhan’s theories into the contemporary media landscape, offering a nuanced understanding of how digital environments mediate and shape user experiences. It is crucial to note that for McLuhan, the term “medium” referred not merely to a form through which content is presented but rather to an environment that fundamentally shapes human perception and interaction. In his 1967 speech to the Provincial Committee on the Aims and Objectives of Education in the Schools of Ontario, later published as part of Education in the Electronic Age (1970), McLuhan stated that "all media are environments, all media have the effects that geographers and biologists have associated with environments in the past... The medium is the message because the environment transforms our perceptions, governing the areas of attention and neglect alike" (McLuhan, 1970, p. 18). 1 From this perspective, it becomes evident why McLuhan proclaimed that "the medium is the message": if the medium functions as an environment, it inevitably shapes the content it delivers, influencing how that content is received and understood by its audience.
Thus, the phrase "the medium is the message" implies that the form of any medium embeds itself within the content it conveys, creating a symbiotic relationship in which the medium profoundly influences how the message is perceived. McLuhan further clarified this idea in the introduction second edition of Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1968), where he applied this concept to technology, stating, "The section on ‘the medium is the message’ can, perhaps, be clarified by pointing out that any technology gradually creates a new human environment. Environments are not passive wrappings but active processes... ‘The medium is the message’ means, in terms of the electronic age, that a new environment has been created" (McLuhan, 1968, p. 26). 2 This insight—that every medium, as an environment, transforms human interaction and perception—becomes even more relevant when applied to the concept of the interface.
Alan Kay’s ideas regarding interfaces were heavily influenced by McLuhan's notion that media, as environments, shape not only human behaviour but also cognitive processes and how individuals engage with and consume information. For Kay, understanding McLuhan’s concept of "the medium is the message" required immersion in the medium itself to fully grasp its content. He remarked, "it means that even though humans are animals that shape tools, it is in the nature of tools, and in learning to use them, to reshape us" (Kay, 1989, p. 192). 2 This realisation led Kay to conceptualise the computer itself as a medium, meaning that users must not only passively engage with interfaces but also become active participants within the digital environment to fully comprehend the content being presented. However, if we limit our focus solely to the visual elements of the interface—specifically the Graphical User Interface (GUI)—we fail to appreciate the complex web of interactions that underlie and structure the presentation of content to the user.
From this vantage point, the interface, rather than merely mimicking older media forms like cinema or print (as Lev Manovich argued in The Language of New Media), can be seen as creating an entirely new environment, one governed by algorithmic processes that organise and present content dynamically. This shift in focus—from the interface as a frame for content representation to the interface as an environment—helps explain why digital images, for example, are often analysed solely in terms of their visual GUI presentation. Manovich, when discussing image representation within digital interfaces, asserts that "the image, in the traditional sense, no longer exists” (Manovich, 2001, p. 100) 3 because it is algorithmically generated rather than physically produced. He goes on to suggest that the conventional definitions of images, as understood in art history, do not adequately account for computationally generated representations, a phenomenon for which we have yet to develop appropriate terminology (Manovich, 2001, p. 100). 4 This confusion likely stems from an overreliance on visual analysis focused on the GUI, rather than recognising the interface as a multi-layered system that creates an environment in which images are algorithmically generated and presented. To fully grasp the message embedded within the medium of the interface, I propose to examine how these interconnected layers work together to construct the digital environment. It is only through this comprehensive analysis—beyond the visual and into the deeper algorithmic and interactive processes—that we can truly understand the message that the interface medium conveys.
For analysing the digital space through the internet art exhibition practice, I seek to extend McLuhan's notion of the medium as an environment by arguing that the concept of the interface as a medium should not be limited to the Graphical User Interface (GUI), as has often been the focus in media studies. Instead, I claim that the entirety of the interfaces identified by Florian Cramer should be considered constitutive elements of this environment. From my perspective, the interaction and communication among these various interfaces collectively create what can be understood as the digital space. To extend this concept further, I propose conceptualising these four interfaces as layers within a stack that together form the digital environment, which should be analysed in an integrated manner. This conceptual framework draws on Benjamin H. Bratton's The Stack: On Software and Sovereignty (2015), where he uses the idea of "The Stack" to map political geographies that are rapidly evolving due to technological advancements. Bratton’s analysis shifts the focus from traditional territorial boundaries, which historically dictated political power, to planetary-scale computation that redistributes power across a spectrum from subterranean cloud infrastructure to urban software and the privatisation of public services. To clarify how these new systems influence populations, Bratton presents a schema of The Stack, comprising six interdependent layers that influence each other: earth, cloud, city, address, interface and user. The Stack concept is partially based on the OSI (Open Systems Interconnection) network model and the TCP/IP network model, which underpin global Internet connectivity. In Bratton’s framework, the OSI model serves as both a literal and technical prototype for understanding how network architectures function across scales, from the micro to the macro level. It also serves as the primary abstraction, or universal diagram, for organising communication within a vertical assemblage that now operates on a megastructural scale.
One of the layers in Bratton’s Stack is the interface layer, which serves as the point of contact through which users engage with technology. Bratton defines the interface as "any point of contact between two complex systems that governs the conditions of exchange between those systems" (Bratton, 2015, p. 220). 1 This definition can be applied to something as simple as a keyboard button, which facilitates user interaction with the computer through tactile input. The button itself remains static until activated, at which point it sends signals to software and hardware, executing a specific command. Bratton highlights that the GUI allows users to visualise and interact with technology. He asserts that "the GUI is a visualization of a machinic network and of the outcomes that it claims to mediate; the formation of its interfaciality is an arc of translation from a set of possibilities into a visual instrument" (Bratton, 2015, p. 224). 2 In essence, the GUI functions as a translator that mediates communication between the user and the machine, converting symbolic language into computational commands.
This perspective invites a broader consideration of interfaces as integral components of the digital environment, each contributing to the complex system that constitutes our interactions with technology. For my proposed diagram, I adopt a similar logic of layered structures, where each layer is carefully positioned atop the others, engaged in continuous communication. This conceptualisation involves refining Bratton’s encompassing Interface Layer into a more granular, four-layered model to precisely analyse the technical curatorial space. The foundation is the User to Hardware layer (Layer 1), corresponding to what Bratton terms the "front" of the interface—the screens, speakers, and sensors that materially render computation perceptible and translate user agency into machine-readable signals (Bratton, 2015, p. 224). 3 Built directly upon this is the Hardware to Software layer (Layer 2), which governs the essential electronic exchange between physical components and logical processes; it is the often-invisible layer where Bratton’s "governance of exchange" between complex systems fundamentally determines what hardware actions are possible in software. The third layer, Software to Software (Layer 3), is predominantly orchestrated through APIs (Application Programming Interfaces), automating the digital environment. This layer embodies Bratton’s insight into software-to-software diplomacy, enabling the automated, curatorial assembly of content. Finally, synthesising these operations is the Software to User (Layer 4). This is the visual and symbolic dimension most commonly conflated with "interface" itself—the curated surface, or "visual instrument," which translates the stack’s layered operations into a legible, navigable space for the end-user (Bratton, 2015, p. 224). 4
In this adapted model, the User, which Bratton allocates as a distinct, sovereign layer within his Stack, is analytically repositioned as an entity distributed across multiple interfacial layers. This repositioning reveals a critical, operational distinction between two primary modes of engagement with the digital environment. The end-user or viewer interacts predominantly with the final, synthesised output presented at Layer 4. Their experience is largely defined by consumption and navigation within a pre-structured visual field. In stark contrast, the curator-programmer operates as an active agent within the deeper, foundational layers. This role necessitates direct engagement with Layer 3 (the Programmatic Curator, comprising APIs and software protocols) and often Layer 2, to architect the very conditions of the exhibition environment itself. This distinction transcends mere technical proficiency; it delineates a fundamental difference in agency, where the curator writes the rules of engagement and constructs the mechanisms of display, while the viewer encounters the curated consequences of those rules.
The exhibition PRINT SCREEN (2023), curated by Roopa Vasudevan and Walker Tufts for The Wrong Biennale, serves as a definitive case study for this layered agency (Vasudevan and Tufts, 2023). The exhibition’s core concept, displaying peculiar, esoteric, or decontextualised screenshots, is realised through a curatorial logic embedded directly in the software-to-software layer. Vasudevan, utilising the p5.js library, programmed the site’s backend to algorithmically select and sequence fifty random images from a submitted database each time the page is loaded or refreshed. Here, the curator functions explicitly as a programmer: the act of curation is not the static arrangement of objects on a wall or screen, but the authoring of a dynamic, procedural rule set (Layer 3) that performs the curatorial act of selection anew for every visitor. The viewer, meanwhile, encounters only the unique, ephemeral result of this algorithmic curation through the clean, minimal UI (Layer 4). The labour and intentionality of the curator are thus absorbed into the system's operation, making the interfacial stack itself the primary curator. The material reality of the artwork, as represented by the screenshot, is contingent upon the hardware and software (Layers 1 & 2) that captured and stored it; however, the autonomous logic of Layer 3 governs its exhibition.
Therefore, adopting and adapting Bratton’s stacked logic facilitates a decisive move beyond the surface-level analysis of the Graphical User Interface that dominates much media studies discourse. This framework provides the analytical precision to dissect how a digital exhibition is materially assembled and governed across its constitutive layers. It traces the chain of curatorial cause and effect from the curator-programmer’s scripted command (Layer 3), through the server’s execution and data retrieval (reliant on Layers 2 & Bratton’s Cloud/Address layers), to the final composition of pixels rendered for perception (Layer 4). This granular perspective reframes digital curation. It is revealed not as a practice that merely utilises a pre-existing interface as a neutral platform, but as a practice that necessarily engages in the orchestration of the interfacial stack. The curator, particularly in net art contexts, becomes a designer of interstitial relationships—a composer of the dialogues between layers that ultimately generate the exhibition environment. This understanding positions the interface not as a screen upon which art is projected, but as a multidimensional, active apparatus whose layered dynamics are integral to the artistic and curatorial statement itself.