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Linz, Sept. 6-11, 1999 
Here we are again, strangely, at the Ars Electronica trade show in Linz, Austria. 
  What did we do wrong? Last year we got the show 
  a bunch of bad 
  publicity, and generally acted like conscientious scoundrels--was that not 
  good enough? Why have they flown us out here again? Our pride is in danger.... 
     A bit of background. After WWII, Austria was considered a 
  victim of Hitler, despite its ticker-tape welcoming celebrations, etc.; therefore 
  it didn't have to go through the big nasty denazification process that claimed 
  so much of Germany's time. On the other hand, conscientious Austrians had to 
  come up with their own ways of overcoming the past, without anyone's help.  
   Ars Electronica was one of those ways. Linz had its own special 
  history problem: it was Hitler's adopted birthplace. Hitler had gone to art 
 
  school here, and when he took power he decided to turn his beloved Linz into 
  the "culture capital" of the world, by mailing to this industrial 
  town all the masterpieces looted from Paris, Rome, etc., and by planning some 
  giant museums. He also planned to retire here. 
     After the war, some Linzers found this history embarrassing, 
  and one of the things Linz has done to clear its name as Hitler's "culture 
  capital" has been to establish itself as the virtual culture capital 
  of the world, with Ars Electronica. The festival is today the biggest and most 
  spectacular technology trade show anywhere, and it is also the strangest, 
  as one might expect.  
   Invited back against all odds, the ®TMark 
contingent celebrates Linz's special history by setting up a VCR with a loop of 
last year's Danish Television segment on ®TMark, 
a masterful bit of television that includes clips of Hitler marching into Linz 
to the accompaniment of confetti in the shape of swastikas, etc. You can also 
see Hitler inspecting his new bridge (visible out the window behind 
the monitor), etc. Once again, we don't expect to be invited back....* 
The subject of this year's Ars Electronica is genetic engineering. When we first heard this, we were excited that the festival was leaving behind mirages like "Infowar" to deal instead with a real issue: including, we expected, the ways corporations have 
  managed to foist genetically modified food on a seemingly willing populace. 
    But when we get here, we are disappointed to learn that the primary sponsor of this year's event is Novartis, Europe's biggest producer of genetically modified 
  grain. The Novartis logo is proudly displayed everywhere, as 
  big as possible, and the name of the conference--"LifeScience"--is obviously derived from Novartis's trademark "Life Sciences." And some prominent critics of genetic engineering--the Critical Art Ensemble, for example--are conpicuously absent.
    Even we, who do not have the highest regard for Ars Electronica's judgment 
  or motives, are shocked. Hasn't anyone considered that this sort of brazenness
  might be seen as tacky by the pesky sorts they continue inviting? To top it all off, the Novartis 
  press materials state in boldface that "Knowledge for its own sake is useless".... 
  Public relations has clearly not quite made it in Europe.... 
Making the best of an awkward situation, an ®TMark representative sneaks into the Novartis press conference, where five 
  Novartis representatives tell the assembled journalists that Novartis is sponsoring this festival because it 
  is interested in long-term relationships with artists. When it comes time for 
  questions, the ®TMark rep gives the Novartis reps some American-style advice: 
  -  According to its own press materials, Novartis believes it can use Ars Electronica 
    to establish genetic modification as acceptable in the public mind, for it 
    has seen how the festival has helped do this with computer technology. This is spelled out on Novartis paper, nicely and clearly. Any other version of why Novartis is here--"long-term 
    relationships with artists," for example--falls far short of the actual 
    story, and should be avoided as too ridiculous to be believed by normal folk.
 
  - Novartis, which has existed for less than five years, is promoting a technology 
    whose long-term effects on humans are totally unknown, and most likely very 
    bad, to judge from studies on mice. It must do this because the long term, 
    defined arbitrarily as something longer than twenty years, can be of no consequence 
    at all to a corporation like Novartis, which is driven, solely and by definition, 
    by (relatively) short-term profit. This is another reason Novartis should 
    avoid using "long-term" when explaining its presence here.
 
 
There is some request for clarification by Novartis, provided by ®TMark. The 
  festival organizer then steps in: "It is for the sake 
  of arguments such as these that we have invited you to attend this press conference," 
  he tells us, apparently not aware that only the press was invited, 
  and that the ®TMark rep had to sneak in, "but now others should have their turn." 
  No one steps forward.
    Having seen that Novartis has difficulty expressing itself, the ®TMark reps decide
  to change their corporate identity into that of Novartis for the duration of the festival, so 
  as to explain to reporters "our" real reasons for being here. We change 
  the plaque next to our booth so that it describes Novartis rather than ®TMark, 
  conduct a few news interviews as Novartis (each time revealing the plot, at the end), and we also gather a significant 
  number of dirty looks, fortunately.... 
Ars Electronica is not all pedagogical drudgery for ®TMark. 
  In a public ceremony, a group called etoy 
  invests $1000 in ®TMark project WARO: "Create a simulated but realistic radio 
  news broadcast that urgently reports systems failures and the ensuing panic 
  that results from the Y2K bug. In the spirit of Orson Welles' 'War of the Worlds,' 
  broadcast and netcast the program on or near the day of January 1st, 2000."
    etoy also awards ®TMark the Golden Nica in Visual Effects for GWBush.com 
  and YesRudy.com. The Golden 
  Nica is a big gold statue of a headless angel, and this instance of it was awarded earlier in the week, along with $15,000, to Digital 
  Domain, who also won last year's prize (for Titanic); 
  an alert etoy member nabbed it from the awards gala the night before. As Die 
  Zeit begins its full-page feature: "... Ernest [from ®TMark] clears 
  his throat to begin his thanks; the moderator [from etoy] suggests he rest the 
  trophy on the table. 'It's very heavy, because it's real Nazi gold.'"
    In the audience, unfortunately, is one of the principle organizers 
  of Ars Electronica, and she is entirely furious. The Digital Domain folks, she 
  says, are very upset, and wish very much to return to Hollywood with 
  their trophy, not without it. It seems we must give the trophy back--or at least 
  pretend to....
    The rest is sheer clowning, much nicer than instructing biotechnology 
  companies in the proper ways to manipulate public opinion. To placate
  the organizers, we promise to return the trophy 
  in a public ceremony performed in the middle of the festival's crowning 25th 
  anniversary celebration--a giant affair, with a roving television crew interviewing 
  various luminaries from the festival's past, including Birgit Richard and etoy, who have donated their interview time for the performing of the ceremony. 
    When it comes time, we run a video showing us with the Golden Nica trophy 
  in the men's restroom, performing on it a genetic engineering experiment modelled 
  after the "plastinations" 
  of Günther von Hagens, several of whose grisly... pieces have 
  been gracing the trade show floor. After much declamation and crescendoing tension, 
  we unveil the result--which, unfortunately, is only four miniature, luminescent green 
  versions of the Golden Nica. Despite our assurances that they are as safe as 
  genetically modified food, no one from the festival steps forth to receive them.... 
*It turns out 
  this year's invitation was due to an organizational error. The organizers put 
  a young American artist named August Black in charge of part of the show, the 
  part to which he invited us. Organizer Gerfried Stocker tried to dissuade him, but was
  unable to, and a sense of fairness prevented him from prevailing by force. We expect he will be learning some Total Quality Management 
  in the not-too-distant future... or maybe we'll be back again next year. [Note: Fortunately, we were not invited to the 2000 festival, which evoked Linz's nazi past even more cluelessly and tastelessly than past festivals. Perhaps it would have been too much for even us to stomach. See this excellent account of the mother of all bad judgments....]
And for yet another example of corporate sponsorship discovered too late, see this account of a show in New York.
 
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