TITLE: Programs as Art AUTHOR: Eugene Wallingford DATE: February 09, 2010 7:13 PM DESC: ----- BODY: In my previous entry I mentioned colleague and graphic designer Roy Behrens. My first blog articles featuring Behrens mentioned or centered on material from Ballast Quarterly Review, a quarterly commonplace book he began publishing in the mid-1980s. I was excited to learn recently that Behrens is beginning to reproduce material from BALLAST on-line in his new blog, The Poetry of Sight. He has already posted both entries I've seen before and entries new to me. This is a wonderful resource for someone who likes to make connections between art, design, psychology, literature, and just about any other creative discipline. All this is prelude to my recent reading of the entry Art as Brain Surgery, which recounts a passage from an interview with film theorist Ray Carney that begins the idea behind the entry's title:
The greatest works [of art] do brain surgery on their viewers. They subtly reprogram our nervous systems. They make us notice and feel things we wouldn't otherwise.I read this passage as a potential challenge to an idea I had explored previously: programming is art. That article looked at the metaphor from poet William Stafford's perspectives on art. Carney looks at art from a different position, one which places a different set of demands on the metaphor. For example,
One of the principal ways [great works of art] do this is through the strangeness of their styles. Style creates special ways of knowing. ... Artistic style induces unconventional states of awareness and sensitivity.This seems to contradict a connection to programming, a creative discipline in which we seem to prefer -- at least in our code -- convention over individuality, recognizability or novelty, and the obvious over the subtle. When we have to dig into an unfamiliar mass of legacy code, the last thing we want are "unconventional states of awareness and sensitivity". We want to grok the code, and now, so that we can extend and modify it effectively and confidently. Yet I think we find beauty in programming styles that extend our way of thinking about the world. Many OO and procedural programmers encounter functional programming and see it as beautiful, in part because it does just what Carney says great art does:
It freshens and quickens our responses. It limbers up our perceptions and teaches us new possibilities of feeling and understanding.The ambitious among us then try to take these new possibilities back to their other programming styles and imbue our code there with the new possibilities. We turn our new perceptions into the conventions and patterns that make our code recognizable and obvious. But this also makes our code subtle in its own, bearing a foreign beauty and sense of understanding in the way it solves the work-a-day problems found in the program's specs. The best software patterns do this: they not only solve a problem but teach us that it can be solved at all, often by bringing an outside influence to our programs. Perhaps it's just me, but there is something poetic in how I experience the emotional peaks of writing programs. I feel what Carney says:
The greatest works of art are not alternatives to or escapes from life, but enactments of what it feels like to live at the highest pitch of awareness -- at a level of awareness most people seldom reach in their ordinary lives.The first Lisp interpreter, which taught us that code is data. VisiCalc, which brought program as spreading activation to our desktops, building on AI work in the 1950s and 1960s. Smalltalk. Unix. Quicksort and mergesort, implemented in thousands of programs in thousands of ways, always different but always perceptibly the same. Programmers experience these ideas and programs at the highest pitch of awareness. I walk away from the computer some days hoping that other people get to feel the way I am feeling, alive with fire deep in my bones.
The greatest works are inspired examples of some of the most exciting, demanding routes that can be taken through experience. They bring us back to life.These days, more than ever, I relish the way even reading a good program can bring me back to life. That's to say nothing of writing one. -----