**Reflecting on Life on the Internet: Artistic Webcam Performances from 1997 to 2017**

### **Tina Sauerlaender**

**Abstract:** This essay introduces webcam-based artworks by Ana Voog, Isaac Leung, Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch, Kate Durbin and Molly Soda. It discusses common features of webcam art, artistic motives, the performance of online identities, interaction with the audience, oversharing and censorship, as well as the major shifts caused by the Web 2.0 and its effects on webcam art. Since the commercial launch of the webcam in 1994, users have been able to connect their real-life visual appearance to their online identity. Ana Voog broadcasted twenty-four hours a day live from home. Isaac Leung explored cyber sex, Ann Hirsch reflects on female online self-representation, and Kate Durbin performs as a cam girl on the video sex chat platform Cam4. Molly Soda engages with the expression of emotions. Petra Cortright checks out the default effects of her webcam and uploads the video to YouTube with misleading tags. Whereas early webcam artists explored the self-broadcasting of daily life activities, including nakedness and sex as a part of daily life, the next generation of webcam artists had a different approach. They used the webcam and the new possibilities of the Web 2.0 to explore different online platforms, their audiences, their social norms, and forms of self-presentation in the digital age.

#### **1. Introduction**

This essay introduces webcam-based artworks by the artists Ana Voog, Isaac Leung, Ann Hirsch, Kate Durbin, Petra Cortright, and Molly Soda. Based on their examples, this article aims to give an overview of the different artistic uses of the webcam—from when artists first used the webcam artistically to the rise of art on social media. The artists were selected to reveal a variety of artistic uses of the webcam and to focus on artistic practices that thematize personal and private situations. Ana Voog broadcasts herself 24/7; Isaac Leung artistically researches sexual online interaction. Petra Cortright scrutinizes the user structures of YouTube; Ann Hirsch performs *Caroline* and broadcasts from her bedroom. Kate Durbin performs in a live sex chatroom; Molly Soda focuses on showcasing emotions that are often excluded from public online communication. Ana Voog and Isaac Leung are representatives of the early days of the internet during the 1990s, whereas the works

introduced by Petra Cortight and Ann Hirsch belong to the early days of Web 2.0.<sup>1</sup> The artworks by Kate Durbin and Molly Soda belong to a later Web 2.0 generation after 2010. After introducing the artworks, this essay discusses common features, artistic motives, the understandings of online identities, notions of online interaction, the principle of oversharing, and the parameters of censorship. The concluding section "From Web 1.0 to Web 2.0" argues the differences between Web 1.0 and Web 2.0 by summarizing the results and comparing Theresa M. Senft's 1990s definition of the "webcam gaze" with the parameters and developments of the Web 2.0 artists. It will further give an outlook on the use of the webcam after 2017.

#### **2. The Beginnings**

During the early 1990s, social communication on the internet mainly happened in chat rooms. People met in so-called multi-user dungeons (MUDs) or domains to communicate online. MUDs provided an anonymous space where users communicated by exchanging texts. The users chose online monikers that allowed them to construct and perform any role or identity. No user could verify the identity of others, i.e., matching it to a particular person that existed in real life (IRL). Users could explore lifestyles or parts of their identities they were not able to explore IRL due to societal constraints. They could find like-minded people or escape real-life (RL) disabilities or discrimination. MUD users describe their online appearances with sentences like "you are who you pretend to be" (Anonymous in Turkle 1995, p. 12) or you "can be whoever you want to be" (Anonymous in Turkle 1995, p. 184). MUDs were later superseded by more widely-used services like ICQ (homophonic abbreviation for "I seek you", since 1996) or AIM (AOL Instant Messenger, 1997–2017).<sup>2</sup> In these early chat rooms, communication remained mainly text-based, although it was possible to exchange photos on messenger platforms. Usernames and online appearances were mostly anonymous and detached from IRL identities. The webcam, commercially launched in 1994, was connected to a computer and enabled its users to broadcast images to a predefined website in real

<sup>1</sup> Web 2.0 describes the structure and applicability of the Internet after major change processes that took place during the early 2000s. These include, above all, the general emergence of a large number of broadband Internet connections, which enabled a higher data transmission rate. In addition, the Asynchronous JavaScript and XML (Ajax) enables the automated loading of new page content without having to reload the entire page. Both enable faster and more flexible handling of the Internet by its users and a wider distribution of images, which require much more data volume than text. For this reason, the Internet has evolved from a pure information dissemination tool and private, anonymous, chat rooms towards a platform for public exchange. For further information on the Web 2.0, please see, for example: oreilly.com/pub/a/web2/archive/what-is-web-20.html.

<sup>2</sup> Unlike MUDs, messenger services were also extensively used to communicate within one's RL social circle of friends. Users shared their messenger identities semi-publicly, for example, with friends at school.

time. In the early years, such streams were not smooth high-definition video, but instead static and pixelated images that refreshed every few seconds. However, broadcasting oneself with the webcam to the internet allowed users to connect their real-life appearance (yet not necessarily their RL identity) with their online identity. Most broadcasters streamed their private affairs from the intimacy of their own homes. As self-broadcasters, they were in control of their own stream and their own online self-image. The online audience, which usually remained anonymous, was able to communicate with the broadcaster via a comment section. At that time, the webcam embodied a window into the personal life that promised "authentic" visual content (Zapp 2006). In my opinion, the term "authentic" does not signify the lack of staged actions, but instead indicates that the content was understood as the self-broadcaster's lived experience and published live and unedited. This marks the first step of the private spilling-over into the public domain.

#### **3. Ana Voog**

Ana Voog, musician, performer and visual artist, began her project *anacam* on 22 August 1997. She was the first to call her practice webcamming art, using the webcam as an artistic tool (Senft 2008, p. 16). *Anacam* broadcasted live from Ana Voog's home twenty-four hours a day.<sup>3</sup> She streamed her daily activities such as cooking dinner, vacuuming, having sex, chatting with cam-watchers, and hosting visitors. Livecasts in this manner appeared in stark contrast to conventional TV programming at the time, which was perceived as comparatively stiff, scripted, and restrained. Besides sharing her personal daily life, Ana Voog also incorporated performance art and visual experimentation. Performance researcher Theresa Senft describes her first impressions of *anacam*: "Ana striking arty poses; Ana licking the window; Ana's eyeball; . . . Ana with a pair of scissors across her pubis sic; Ana's hands, folded in prayer" (Senft 2008, p. 39). While sex and nudity (including masturbation and intercourse) appeared only occasionally on her live webcam, Ana Voog specifically did not omit them, because she considers these activities part of life. Voog stated, the "site isn't about sex, but sexuality and SENSUALITY sic" (Voog 2007). She was very successful, with up to 7 million people a day watching *anacam*. In total, *anacam* was live online 24/7 for 12 years, until August 2009.

<sup>3</sup> By 1996, Jennifer Ringley had already started her webcam, but she did not consider herself an artist. Jennifer Ringley's aim was to show a glimpse beyond the staged and polished lives on TV. She wanted to show reality as it simply could not be conveyed from within a studio. (Senft 2008, p. 16).

#### **4. Isaac Leung**

Isaac Leung used the webcam as a core tool for his artistic research of interpersonal sexual interaction on a chat platform. *The Impossibility of Having Sex With 500 Men in a Month—I'm an Oriental Whore* (2003) is a cyber-sexual exploration which documents a month-long marathon of online sexual encounters. Isaac Leung was interested in exploring questions like "is Internet sex real? And is Internet space private?" (Issacs 2002). Leung conducted his research project on gay internet sex for his participation in the thesis exhibition of the School of the Art Institute Chicago (SAIC), causing significant controversy at the school (ibid.). In contrast to Jennifer Ringley or Ana Voog, Leung did not webcam his everyday life to an anonymous online audience. He conducted one-on-one chats. There, Leung took on the persona of an 18-year-old Japanese male (he is Chinese and was 23 at the time), and chatted with 161 men (he did not achieve his goal of 500), an average of 5.4 men per day (DeGenevieve 2010). Leung had created a questionnaire beforehand to ask his partners during their chats about their age, weight, height, ethnicity, location, and preferred sexual position. Leung painstakingly logged the answers in a chart and kept hundreds of explicit screen shots of their chats. He also created transcripts of the chat sessions and a personal journal. He planned to exhibit these materials in his BFA exhibition but was banned from doing so, although the work was already installed. Instead of "de-installing the piece, he covered the entrance to his installation space with paper so that all that was visible was a large lighted sign with the full title" (ibid.).

#### **5. Petra Cortright**

Petra Cortright did not use the webcam for interpersonal exchange like Isaac Leung, or for live broadcasting like Ana Voog. Instead, in *VVEBCAM* (2007) Petra Cortright records herself staring at her computer screen and testing the various default visual effects of her 20 USD consumer webcam; overlays of animated pizza slices, flowers, cats or snowflakes ghostly float on her own image (Figure 1). Ceephax and Ceephax's song *Summer Frosby* plays in the background and create a rhythmic interaction between the changing animations and the music. These animations and Petra Cortright's eye movements are the only dynamic elements in this otherwise static scene. Cortright wears almost no makeup and casual, decidedly unsexy clothes. At that time, she experimented with short videos of herself in a bedroom or a private surrounding, which she left primarily unedited when uploading onto YouTube. While uploading the *VVEBCAM* video to YouTube, Cortright adds metadata tags like "tits vagina sex nude boobs britney spears paris hilton" (Soulellis 2019, p. 428)—tags that usually pull a higher ranking in search engines for spam or porn. In this way, she not only addresses the general non-art audience on YouTube, but also explicitly caters to users searching for naked women, celebrities, or both, only to lead them to a video that does not fulfill their expectations. This phenomenon has since been

widely commercially appropriated and become common practice far beyond video platforms; today, it is known and abhorred by internet users as clickbait. **5. Petra Cortright**

Figure 1: Petra Cortright, VVEBCAM, 2007. Source: Petra Cortright, image used with **Figure 1.** Petra Cortright, VVEBCAM, 2007. Source: Petra Cortright, image used with permission.

permission.

### **6. Ann Hirsch**

clickbait.

**6. Ann Hirsch** 

14 (Soulellis 2019, p. 428).

Petra Cortright did not use the webcam for interpersonal exchange like Isaac Leung, or for live broadcasting like Ana Voog. Instead, in *VVEBCAM* (2007) Petra Cortright records herself staring at her computer screen and testing the various default visual effects of her 20 USD consumer webcam; overlays of animated pizza slices, flowers, cats or snowflakes ghostly float on her own image (Figure 1). Ceephax and Ceephax's song *Summer Frosby* plays in the background and create a rhythmic interaction between the changing animations and the music. These animations and Petra Cortright's eye movements are the only dynamic elements in this otherwise static scene. Cortright wears almost no makeup and casual, decidedly unsexy clothes. At that time, she experimented with short videos of herself in a bedroom or a private surrounding, which she left primarily unedited when uploading onto YouTube. While uploading the *VVEBCAM* video to YouTube, Video and performance artist Ann Hirsch started her webcam performances after several archetypes of cam girls emerged during the first decade of the webcam: the young girl, the sexy girl or the smart girl. In particular, camming from the bedroom became a significant feature that Ann Hirsch addressed. In her 18-month YouTube project *Scandalishious* (2008–2009), she performed the persona of Caroline, a self-described 18-year-old college freshman "who danced for the camera, vlogged, and interacted with her followers" (NET ART ANTHOLOGY n.d.) (Figure 2). Hirsch's persona Caroline uploaded one video every week of herself dancing sexily, humorously and crazily in ever-changing outfits: often in underwear, short pajamas, bras or bikinis. At its completion, the performance included over one hundred videos, and the YouTube channel had over one million views. Caroline had garnered a wide following. Many of them were other young women, but a large number of them were men and teenage boys" (ibid.). Like Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch pre-recorded and later uploaded the videos mostly unedited to YouTube, where the platform users could then comment on them.

to lead them to a video that does not fulfill their expectations. This phenomenon has since been widely commercially appropriated and become common practice far beyond video platforms; today, it is known and abhorred by internet users as

Cortright adds metadata tags like "tits vagina sex nude boobs britney spears paris hilton"14—tags that usually pull a higher ranking in search engines for spam or porn.

Figure 2: Ann Hirsch, Scandalishious, 2008-2009. Source: Ann Hirsch, image used with permission. **Figure 2.** Ann Hirsch, Scandalishious, 2008-2009. Source: Ann Hirsch, image used with permission.

#### Video and performance artist Ann Hirsch started her webcam performances **7. Kate Durbin**

15 (NET ART ANTHOLOGY n.d. a). 16 (NET ART ANTHOLOGY n.d. a).

after several archetypes of cam girls emerged during the first decade of the webcam: the young girl, the sexy girl or the smart girl. In particular, camming from the bedroom became a significant feature that Ann Hirsch addressed. In her 18-month YouTube project *Scandalishious* (2008–2009), she performed the persona of Caroline, a self-described 18-year-old college freshman "who danced for the camera, vlogged, and interacted with her followers"15 (Figure 2). Hirsch's persona Caroline uploaded one video every week of herself dancing sexily, humorously and crazily in everchanging outfits: often in underwear, short pajamas, bras or bikinis. At its completion, the performance included over one hundred videos, and the YouTube channel had over one million views. Caroline had garnered a wide following. Many of them were other young women, but a large number of them were men and teenage boys."16 Like Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch pre-recorded and later uploaded the videos mostly unedited to YouTube, where the platform users could then comment on them.  Unlike Ann Hirsch and Petra Cortright, Kate Durbin chose to perform live on a sex cam platform. In *Cloud Nine* (2015), Kate Durbin performed as a cam girl on *Cam 4*, an online sex cam platform, and simultaneously streamed the performance to the art platform New Hive (which had commissioned the work) (Figure 3). While the New Hive audience was not able to directly interact with the artist during the performance, the *Cam4* users could, though they were left unaware of the synchronous stream that underpinned the artistic dimension of the performance. For almost two hours, the artist engaged with her viewers via live cam and chat. She asked her audience to play a game and to tell her the craziest thing they had ever done for money. Durbin tried to engage viewers in a conversation about the often-precarious living conditions of female artists, forcing them to compromise their beliefs and bodies to generate money to live. In exchange for each audience confession, she promised to remove more clothing.<sup>4</sup> While at first she retold stories of her friends, she later delved into a 20-minute monologue, confessing her own struggle for making money as a female artist, and stressing the importance of sharing these stories. The *Cam4* audience exchanged thoughts about Kate's situation as a female artist on the

<sup>4</sup> Kate Durbin wore a color-coordinated wig and make-up in green and turquoise, rendering her a hybrid of a money goddess and a mermaid. Her first layer of clothing was an oversized white shirt with a pair of glittery green lips on it, that eventually gave way to a dollar-note-print tank top. In the end, she wore a bikini top the color of her skin adorned with printed-on nipples and a pair of panties with colored condoms.

chat. They speculated on what kind of artist she was and—quite unexpectedly for a sex-cam audience—thanked her for sharing her story. **7. Kate Durbin** 

Figure 3: Kate Durbin, Cloud Nine, 2015. Source: Kate Durbin, image used with permission. **Figure 3.** Kate Durbin, Cloud Nine, 2015. Source: Kate Durbin, image used with permission.

#### Unlike Ann Hirsch and Petra Cortright, Kate Durbin chose to perform live on a **8. Molly Soda**

sex cam platform. In *Cloud Nine* (2015), Kate Durbin performed as a cam girl on *Cam 4*, an online sex cam platform, and simultaneously streamed the performance to the art platform New Hive (which had commissioned the work) (Figure 3). While the New Hive audience was not able to directly interact with the artist during the performance, the *Cam4* users could, though they were left unaware of the synchronous stream that underpinned the artistic dimension of the performance. For almost two hours, the artist engaged with her viewers via live cam and chat. She asked her audience to play a game and to tell her the craziest thing they had ever done for money. Durbin tried to engage viewers in a conversation about the oftenprecarious living conditions of female artists, forcing them to compromise their beliefs and bodies to generate money to live. In exchange for each audience confession, she promised to remove more clothing.17 While at first she retold stories of her friends, she later delved into a 20-minute monologue, confessing her own struggle for making money as a female artist, and stressing the importance of sharing these stories. The *Cam4* audience exchanged thoughts about Kate's situation 17 Kate Durbin wore a color-coordinated wig and make-up in green and turquoise, rendering her a Molly Soda started her webcam performances around 2010. Although she posted and still posts across platforms, her vast YouTube and Vimeo archives remain a comprehensive source of her artistic practice since 2010. *Cum N Get It* (2014), *Exile in Camville*, *That's Me In The Corner*, or *Who's Sorry Now* (all 2017) engage with female online self-representation, the theme of cam girls at large, as well as the examination of online interaction and visibility. *That's Me In The Corner* is recorded in landscape format as a live story on Instagram that was later uploaded to Vimeo. Molly Soda wears a carnival-style cowboy hat and a strapless top. She performs several mostly semi-sad pop songs as karaoke versions, singing into a microphone she holds in her hand for almost half an hour straight. One of the songs is *Losing my Religion* by R.E.M., that contains the line that inspired the title "that's me in the corner." Her audience comments and sends hearts in the comment section. *Who's Sorry Now* is a video performance uploaded to Vimeo (Figure 4). The video shows the artist from the webcam perspective of her laptop sitting alone on a bed in a room and crying in the dark, her face only illuminated by the dim glow of the screen. Simultaneously, she uses her smartphone to take selfies. The viewer can hear a film or music playing in the background from her laptop. Talking about her work *Who's*

pair of panties with colored condoms.

hybrid of a money goddess and a mermaid. Her first layer of clothing was an oversized white

*Sorry Now,* she refers to the work as a "webcam performance video piece" (National Portrait Gallery 2019, 00:01) and as a "self-portrait" (National Portrait Gallery 2019, 00:11). Similar to Ana Voog, Molly Soda's work is perceived as very open, personal and authentic. "Instead of creating and mastering different selves, she has committed to publicly extending her IRL self" (Blume 2016, p. 29), which she performs and exposes on different platforms. as a female artist on the chat. They speculated on what kind of artist she was and quite unexpectedly for a sex-cam audience—thanked her for sharing her story. **8. Molly Soda** 

Figure 4: Molly Soda, Who's Sorry Now, 2017. Source: Molly Soda, image used with permission. **Figure 4.** Molly Soda, Who's Sorry Now, 2017. Source: Molly Soda, image used with permission.

#### Molly Soda started her webcam performances around 2010. Although she **9. Common Features**

18 (Soda 2019, 00:01).

posted and still posts across platforms, her vast YouTube and Vimeo archives remain a comprehensive source of her artistic practice since 2010. *Cum N Get It* (2014), *Exile in Camville*, *That's Me In The Corner*, or *Who's Sorry Now* (all 2017) engage with female online self-representation, the theme of cam girls at large, as well as the examination of online interaction and visibility. *That's Me In The Corner* is recorded in landscape format as a live story on Instagram that was later uploaded to Vimeo. Molly Soda wears a carnival-style cowboy hat and a strapless top. She performs several mostly semi-sad pop songs as karaoke versions, singing into a microphone she holds in her hand for almost half an hour straight. One of the songs is *Losing my Religion* by R.E.M., that contains the line that inspired the title "that's me in the The webcam artists introduced, Ana Voog, Isaac Leung, Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch, Kate Durbin and Molly Soda, all use a webcam to create their artworks.<sup>5</sup> They all cam from home or another private undisclosed space. All video works appear mostly unedited, and are either live-broadcasted (Voog, Durbin, Soda), prerecorded and then uploaded (Cortright, Hirsch, Soda), or documented as screenshots (Leung).<sup>6</sup> All artists use the perspective of the webcam from the desktop computer, which is either externally connected to a PC, or later installed internally. The protagonists move in front of a steady camera and no cuts upset the uninterrupted flow of action. Only Molly Soda's *That's Me in The Corner* was recorded with a phone camera, as she

corner." Her audience comments and sends hearts in the comment section. *Who's Sorry Now* is a video performance uploaded to Vimeo (Figure 4). The video shows

the artist from the webcam perspective of her laptop sitting alone on a bed in a room <sup>5</sup> The following analysis will refer to the previously introduced artworks only.

and crying in the dark, her face only illuminated by the dim glow of the screen. Simultaneously, she uses her smartphone to take selfies. The viewer can hear a film 6 Isaac Leung did not publicly live-broadcast, but planned to showcase a documentation of his research in online chatrooms in the context of a subsequent exhibition.

performed on Instagram. Here, the transition from the installed camera on the home computer to a use of the mobile phone camera becomes evident. In comparison to YouTube, Tumblr or other early Web 2.0 platforms, Instagram is designed as an app for use on mobile devices. All artists are in full control of their own image and have a preconceived motif for presenting themselves online, a certain idea of how and why they present themselves. They expose themselves to a public and anonymously opaque online audience in a non-art context like LifeJournal (Voog), a gay sex-chat platform (Leung), YouTube (Cortright, Hirsch, Soda), Cam4 (Durbin), or Instagram Live channel (Soda). The artists interact with an audience or a counterpart in such a way that it forms a crucial part of each piece. They share personal or private information by streaming from their home, showcasing sexual activities (Voog, Leung), checking webcam features (Cortright), dancing scantily clad on the bed (Hirsch), talking about financial issues (Durbin), or singing or crying in front of the camera (Soda).

#### **10. Artistic Motives**

The artists describe their motives very differently. Ana Voog replied to the accusation of generating pornographic content by stating that instead, of merely exposing herself, she worked to debunk the preconceptions and prejudice she had encountered, "I wasn't an exhibitionist. I was an anarchist. I wanted to crush all the archetypes people held about me—like thinking I was a dumb blonde, for example—by slowly disintegrating them from within. *If you think I'm dumb, I'll show you that I'm smart*" (Voog 2018). Isaac Leung pursued ontological questions surrounding the intimacy of Internet sex. Petra Cortright described a kind of counter-approach towards the conventional use of YouTube, "I have that attitude that I just can't be bothered . . . YouTube is filled with people making webcam videos of themselves, talking about whatever, journaling their lives, performing for some audience. It was interesting to have my videos on there, which were related to other videos people were doing but they had a lot of very big differences and were very much in their own realm" (Cortright, Petra n.d.). Caroline, Ann Hirsch's online persona, speaks candidly about her intentions in her last video, "No, I am not like, an elitist art bitch, I am just like you, involving myself in the world" (Hirsch 2016, 7:27). Hirsch adds a reflective layer to her purpose by admitting that she also wanted to find out more about the personalities of "cam whores" and their audience, as well as how her own image is being represented online and how it is seen and understood by the online community (Hirsch 2016). Similar to Leung, she considers her channel a research experiment about online culture in which she situates herself. Kate Durbin, who performed under the synonym *cloudninek*, explained her intention towards the end of the performance, "I was interested in bringing together two communities, the web cam community and the audience there, as well as the audience in the art

world" (Durbin 2015, 1:59:55). Furthermore, Durbin spoke about raising awareness for the precarious working conditions she and fellow female artists are subjected to, which share a lot of similarities with precarious situations cam girls often find themselves in. Molly Soda explained her artistic motives as follows, "There's kind of this need to show my ugliness or this side I normally wouldn't want people to see" (National Portrait Gallery 2019, 00:24). She describes the situation she showcases in *Who's Sorry Now* as real or linked to her IRL self, "I think that piece existed in that time in that moment because that was a very real moment where I was really experiencing those feelings" (ibid., 00:40). Both Molly Soda and Ana Voog openly communicate human behavior that usually would not be carried out publicly, e.g., crying in front of the camera. Kate Durbin made personal confessions in *Cloud Nine* and embedded her statement in a broader context of her staged performance, where she also read the personal stories of friends. Isaac Leung engaged very personally, masturbating in front of his webcam. Regardless of how personal and authentic they may or may not appear, they all pursued a certain purpose with their performance. This purpose determined their behavior in front of the camera. Ana Voog aimed to protest against stereotypes, Leung researched male sexual online interaction, Durbin was concerned with the precarious situation of women, Cortright examined undermining YouTube, Hirsch and Soda explored female roles and self-representation online.

#### **11. Online Identities**

All artists had an intention, an agenda of why, what and how to perform beforehand. Although they used different ways of linking their IRL identities to their online self,<sup>7</sup> the displayed identity was always a performed one, taking place according to the preconceived notion, and with the awareness of being filmed to be seen by others. As Molly Soda says, "I think we all present a character online and turning ourselves into these avatars and creating these 2D personas for people to see" (National Portrait Gallery 2019, 00:50). The audience should therefore deduce that they cannot verify if the performed persona aligns or not with the artist's inner self. Or, as Molly Soda puts it, "how am I supposed to know what anyone's intentions are? Sometimes I don't recognize my own intentions until years later" (Soda 2018a). However, since the beginning of the internet, the discrepancy between the IRL and online persona has caused confusion, anxiety and led to the fraud and exploitation of others. In text-based MUDs, many users often assume that the person they have been chatting with may not really be who he or she appears to

<sup>7</sup> In the discussed works, Petra Cortright uploaded her video to a YouTube account under her IRL name; Molly Soda and Ana Voog used pseudonyms, but link their IRL self to the performed online identity. Isaac Leung, Ann Hirsch and Kate Durbin used fake identities detached from their IRL selves.

be (Turkle 1995). However, the handling of online identities changed when users began to share content under their real names, starting with the launch of Facebook in 2004. Online self-representation of individuals became more ubiquitous and mainstream, even reaching different generations of users. Therefore, the "general perception of online self-construction has shifted towards being 'more real', in the sense that most users' social media identities are largely curated reflections of their IRL selves" (Blume 2016, p. 11). In 2006, LonelyGirl15 performed a 15-year-old girl with strict parents who broadcast from her bedroom at home. In fact, she was an actress, and LonelyGirl15 was written and directed by two film makers. This lead Virginia Heffernan in her *New York Times* article to ask her readers, "Does the revelation of Lonelygirl15's true identity as an actress change the way you will interpret amateur videos online?" (Heffernan 2006). Not only amateur videos, but also artistic works, are generally deemed to be truthful in a similar way. In her 6-month-long Instagram performance *Excellences & Perfections* (2014), Artist Amalia Ulman played the role of a young girl who moves to the big city, undergoes several lifestyle phases like partying, having breast surgery, and nervous breakdowns. In the end, she revealed that the whole narrative she posted about on her Instagram account for half a year was fiction. The BBC referred to her as the "Instagram artist who fooled thousands" (Kinsey 2016). This kind of reaction is symptomatic of how the audience's belief in a story highly depends on the connection between the IRL and online persona. This presumed congruence lets the visual content appear authentic and true. This phenomenon correlates or happens, because photography as a medium is still understood as authentic medium, a direct imprint of reality. Even in the digital age filled with image editing tools, people still fall for the notion that photographic images objectively communicate a truthful reality.<sup>8</sup> Furthermore, the social media platforms of Web 2.0 demand a connection between the IRL and online self and reinforce this notion. Amalia Ulman uses these "conventions of performing self on Instagram to expose how conforming to normative posting patterns makes fiction register as real" (Blume 2016, p. 49). The audience should be aware of the discrepancy between the IRL person and their represented online persona. Artistic online self-presentation is not meant to be a direct expression of the artist's inner self. Instead, it is a tool consciously employed to reflect on social roles and behavior on the internet, as well as to examine the structures, codes and conditions of the internet.

<sup>8</sup> A photograph has always been a subjective 2D cutout through the lens of the photographer that distorts reality, as objects closer to the camera lens appear bigger.

#### **12. Online Interaction**

Webcam artists expose themselves to dialogue with internet users via chat, public comments or direct messaging. Interaction forms a crucial part of their works, because the audience's reactions reveal social settings and patterns of how individuals interact with each other online—conditions that artists aim to explore. In the early days of the internet, webcam artists streamed to their own sites. Ana Voog's broadcast consisted of sequences of low-res photos taken every few seconds. With her performance conveying her IRL identity, she opposed anonymous online communication taking place in online chatrooms like MUDs at the time. With her seemingly open and transparent lifestyle in front of the webcam, Ana Voog gained her audience's trust. She learned about their "secrets, desires, longings, dreams, and struggles of everyone from housewives to diplomats to truck drivers to FBI agents" (Voog 2018). For Isaac Leung, the interpersonal online interaction is at the heart of his research-based installation. In her performance, Petra Cortright reflects the behavior of consumers of online content, by staring at her screen, and watching herself while playing with the digital props of her webcam. She misleads the audience by using tags unrelated to the video's content, causing disappointed, adversarial and outright mean reactions. Those tags directly referred to a certain online audience who consumes objectifying depictions of women as apathetically as Petra Cortright consumes the filters of her webcam. The comments under her videos show just how many users she lured in through explicit tagging, and the enormous audience ready to commodify female celebrities and the naked female body as readily as a consumable product. Ann Hirsch's alter ego Caroline also elicited intense feedback. *Rhizome*'s documentation gives insight into the reactions and response videos to *Scandalishious* (NET ART ANTHOLOGY n.d.). They go beyond the usual text messaging and are reminiscent of fan behavior. Teenagers re-enacted Caroline's dancing; male twenty-somethings showed off their ripped bodies in tight underwear and performed provocative moves close to the camera so their heads would be out of the frame. "Some responses were admiring; some were silly; some were cruel. A lot of the responses were highly personal; her followers would open up about their own inner lives, or share dick pics" (NET ART ANTHOLOGY n.d.). In her video *HATE BOYS,* Caroline addresses how much she hates that men send her dick pics, and are only interested in her body, but not in who she is as a person. Kate Durbin, who performed on a platform that mostly features free amateur nude and sexual performances, received similar reactions. Some of the first comments were "iwant youmgreen lips on m ydick" or "show tits plz" (User comments in Durbin 2015, 00:07:47). Given the platform and the anonymity of the users, these reactions do not surprise, yet still shock. They reveal how cam girls are degraded to consumable objects and are treated without respect. The commenters did not even bother to read the question Kate Durbin posed in the beginning. The kinds of reactions Durbin faced—and that Jennifer Ringley, Ana Voog

or Ann Hirsch as Caroline had also faced before—are the ones every cam girl has to endure, whether or not she expresses her sexuality. In the case of Durbin, at least some users answered her question about what things they have done for money. For example they replied, "I once collected several ounces of my bf's cum and sold it," "I sold drugs at age 14," or "I sucked a dick, so I could eat" (User comments in Durbin 2015, 0:19:10 and 1:17:00). In comparison, Molly Soda's Instagram live video *That's Me In The Corner* provoked instant reactions that were mainly positive, polite and supportive ("BABE," "je t'aime," "adore you," "karaoke queen," or hearts or heart-eyed emojis). Soda streamed on her own Instagram account and therefore to an audience that did not consist of anonymous or unknown users, but of friends or fans who have their Instagram account linked to their RL identity. It becomes clear that the reactions of viewers highly depend on the platform where the artistic performances take place, and whether the artist fulfills the associated expectations. Furthermore, the comments reveal a much higher degree of respect and friendliness towards the artist when the audience is not anonymous.

#### **13. Oversharing**

Oversharing refers to sharing "too much information" about one's private life or personal details, and is often used negatively about the performances of cam girls (Sykes 2015). Oversharing is often deemed inappropriate when it features sexual or pornographic content or is overly emotional, e.g., crying, nervous breakdowns, or interchangeable and trivial content including romantically idealized photos of couples, food pictures, or cat videos. Whether a post is perceived as oversharing depends on the expectations of the audience on a specific social platform. Oversharing became a buzzword in contemporary culture around 2015,<sup>9</sup> but was around much earlier. Katie Glass, a columnist at the *Sunday Times*, says that oversharing does not exist and we have "an obligation to share the rubbish stuff otherwise it looks like we're all just having a good time watching sunsets and sipping champagne" (Glass, Kate). The expression "rubbish stuff" here describes the counterpart of solely positive, high-life imagery on social media. To keep the balance, or to maintain a more "authentic" impression closer to real life, Glass argues that users of social media platforms should post both sides of the story. Again, online appearances are considered something that should be close to the real life of the respective person. Yet, this is a paradox, as an IRL photo album also usually only contains positive images. Everyone has to "smile" for the family picture. Even Ana Voog's artistic practice

<sup>9</sup> (Sykes 2015) "In 2008, Webster's New World Dictionary made oversharing their 'New Word of the Year'; Chambers Dictionary did the same in 2014. Both dictionaries describe oversharing as the act of divulging inappropriate amounts of personal information."

could be considered oversharing, as she streamed her life 24/7. In 2001, author Eric Durchholz ironically called himself, lecturer Theresa M. Senft, author of the book *Camgirls*, and cam girl Stacey Pershall the "Queens of the over-share." They were all part of the panel "Everything you ever wanted to know about webcamming but were afraid to ask" at SXSW. They made fun of this title because there "seemed to be nothing our viewers were afraid to ask us and nothing we were afraid to tell" (Senft 2008, p. 33). This attitude seems characteristic of cam girls of the 1990s, such as Ringley and Voog. Getting naked and having sex in front of the camera was once taboo-breaking for at least a part of the audience and the journalists who wrote about it. Moreover, Molly Soda's artistic practice has been described as oversharing (Blume 2016, p. 9). A quote by the artist sheds light on her artistic motives and why she confronts her audience with seemingly highly personal content others would feel embarrassed to share (like karaoke singing or crying in front of the camera), "I'm really interested in why you feel embarrassed about something, why something is shameful to you. How to pull that out of yourself, how to deal with it . . . 'If I embarrass myself, it's different than if someone embarrasses me. I'm willingly exposing myself so I can't get hurt.' I'm also thinking about the psychology of why something's embarrassing and what makes something a guilty pleasure, or what makes you want to hide something" (Soda 2018b).

Artworks characterized by oversharing and taboo-breaking art practice involving highly personal content have existed since before the internet. Paula Modersohn-Becker's full-body *Self-Portrait at 6th Wedding Anniversary* (1906) depicts the artist nude and pregnant; Egon Schiele's *Self-Portrait* (1911) shows the artist seemingly masturbating. In the video performance *Fuses* (1965), Carolee Schneemann and her partner have sex. Many works, such as Bas Jan Ader's mixed media artwork *I am too sad to tell you* (1970–71)*,* Nan Goldin's photographic self-portrait *Nan one month after being battered* (1984)*;* Jeff Koons and Cicciolina's kitsch pornographic photo series *Made in Heaven* (1990–91); or Tracey Emin's *Everyone I have ever slept with* (1963–1995), have become part of the art historical canon and have been shown in museums and galleries. Nudity, as well as oversharing, have long been part of artistic practice, yet they did not forfeit any of their provocative power. But all these works appear in the art or museum context. Today, in the age of the internet, art is shared on websites or social platforms detached from any art context and institutional vetting process. It is a process that already started with Ana Voog's broadcast to her own website. Art historians or critics have a hard time distinguishing between the pop cultural use of selfies and artworks by visual artists that use this visual language as a tool for artistic reflection. The discussion of taboos has shifted from what level of transgression is permissible in the art and exhibition circuit, towards the censorship policies on social media platforms, which enforce more conservative standards of

taboo. However, oversharing can be traced as an artistic tool in both the Web 1.0 and the Web 2.0.

#### **14. Censorship**

In April 2001, Ana Voog posted three provocative images to her LiveJournal, an early social online platform that Voog used to accompany her webcam performance site. Voog posted photos of a vulva with a bloody tampon hanging from it, a used bloody tampon and a close-up of clipped pubic hair. The LiveJournal Abuse Team claimed to have made an effort to consider the photos artworks when they requested (!) deletion of these images. "Note that artistic nudity is given broad consideration," the email advised, "but this is by no means artistic in any way" (LiveJournal Abuse Team in Senft 2008, p. 88). Ana Voog publicly protested on LiveJournal against silencing female bodies, and the photos were allowed to stay in her journal (Senft 2008, p. 87). Every Instagram artist or user today could only dream of such a success or of being "requested" to delete a photo. Instagram enforces their own community guidelines by deleting pictures or whole accounts unannounced. In their book *Pics or It Didn't Happen. Images Banned from Instagram* (2016), artists Arvida Byström and Molly Soda compiled pictures of their own and their friends and followers that were deleted from Instagram. Instagram's policy in itself, as well as the users who report "inappropriate" content, severely restrict diversity on the platform. Borderline-pornographic content that follows the male gaze, is given leniency. Yet, as the book reveals, unshaven bikini lines, female nipples, gender fluid imagery or period blood are not. Censorship has been and still is a relevant issue for artists to reflect on and protest. However, whereas early platforms like LiveJournal were open to discussion, all of today's social media platforms fully block such a possibility.

#### **15. Conclusions: From Web 1.0 to Web 2.0**

In her book *Camgirls*, Theresa M. Senft defines the "webcam gaze" of the 1990s on the basis of four characteristics: (1) cam girls are their own directors and producers of their self-images, (2) viewers can interact with them via chat, (3) cam girls can simultaneously engage in other activities, like cooking, taking calls or having sex, and (4) cams are broadcast live and unedited (Senft 2008, p. 45). Whereas all four aspects apply to *Jennicam* or *anacam*, the applicability deviates from the Web 2.0 artists. Senft's characteristic (1) fully applies, as they are still their own directors and producers of their self-image. Ana Voog streamed 24/7 for years.<sup>10</sup> Art and

<sup>10</sup> The idea of streaming permanently to the internet is one of the basic ideas of the webcam use since its inception. There is the famous first webcam, the Trojan Room Coffee Pot Camera at Cambridge University, streaming the coffee level in the machine in the coffee kitchen to the employees, or countless

daily life exist closely together. In comparison, the Web 2.0 artists do not livecast continuously. They adhere to an artistic dramaturgy within a limited timeframe that does not include the pursuit of daily activities, unless staged as part of the performance. The online performances of Web 2.0 artists are more condensed and tied into a certain framework. Neither Kate Durbin, Petra Cortright, Caroline (aka Ann Hirsch) nor Molly Soda would engage in side actions, as Ana Voog, according to Senft's characteristic (3). All artists explored and reflected on life on the internet and established a discourse on social norms. Ana Voog explored daily life activities online, including nudity, sex, and masturbation. With full physical engagement, Isaac Leung artistically researched the user structure and behavior of online sex portals. Both strongly challenged societal sexual taboos. The next generation of webcam artists (Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch, Kate Durbin, or Molly Soda) are instead interested in exploring different forms of online identities, online platforms, their audiences, and the validity of social norms on the internet. Sex and nudity do not appear predominantly in the works.<sup>11</sup> However, oversharing has been a part of artistic practice in Web 1.0 (Voog) and Web 2.0 (Soda).

Due to technological developments, the Web 2.0 naturally offers many more streaming, video recording or social media uploading possibilities.<sup>12</sup> Web 2.0 artists usually stream or post to a variety of social platforms (i.e., YouTube, Tumblr or Instagram), instead of streaming to their own website. The user interaction possibilities, as mentioned in Senft's characteristic (2), also exceeded those of Web 1.0. Kate Durbin's *Cloud Nine* was performed on *Cam4*, where the users of the platform could comment live and Durbin could directly react, similar to Voog's interaction. However, Petra Cortright, Ann Hirsch or Molly Soda prerecorded and uploaded the videos to YouTube where users could comment on the final videos. A webcam performance on Instagram like *That's Me In The Corner* by Molly Soda allowed users to comment or send stickers or hearts. However, like Ana Voog's live stream, later webcam artists also leave their videos unedited. This concept confirms

cams streaming city sites from bird's eye view, or the famous San Francisco Fogcam, which has streamed live since 1994 and is still active (fogcam.org).

<sup>11</sup> There are artists who do, in fact, explore more sexually oriented notions in the context of the usage of the webcam in connection with social platforms. See Leah Schrager or Georges Jacotey.

<sup>12</sup> The webcam of the Web 1.0 was a static camera attached to home computers, sending single static images to the web every few seconds. Over time, the webcam became integrated in laptops. During Web 2.0, it became a mobile tool, as a part of a smartphone. Nowadays, the webcam is a flexible tool that is also integrated in smart phones (or laptops), ready to be used for taking photos, recording HD videos, or streaming live to the internet. Photo and video editing tools on smart phones further enhance the quality of amateur and artistic imagery.

Senft's characteristic (4), regardless of whether they perform live or prerecord and upload.<sup>13</sup>

The artists of the Web 1.0 and Web 2.0 both link their online persona to their IRL appearance (Voog, Soda, Cortright), or use alternate identities (Leung, Durbin, Hirsch) depending on their project. There is no fundamental difference between the webcam artists of different generations. An important common feature is that all artists performed in or uploaded to a non-art related space online. Interaction with the online audience was a crucial part of artistic webcam performance in both Web 1.0 and 2.0, and a special feature of this art form. Despite other similarities, the notion of censorship has changed fundamentally with the Web 2.0 and its social platforms. Ana Voog streamed to her own website censorship-free. Even on the social platform LiveJournal, she successfully negotiated keeping her images online. Interestingly, Isaac Leung conducted his research online, but could not physically exhibit his work, due to university censorship. With the emergence of social platforms, similar restrictions were also introduced online. If works do not conform with community guidelines, the content, or even the user profiles, are arbitrarily deleted without prior notice.

With the beginning of social platforms, webcamming as a distinct art form has disappeared. Cam girls who stream 24/7 have been replaced by cam girls who only stream at a certain time for a certain purpose on a certain social platform. Additionally, the artistic use of the webcam has changed. Webcam artists of the Web 2.0 use their webcam for a preplanned live performances or videos. With social platforms and the technological improvements offering a variety of usages, artists like Petra Cortright, Kate Durbin or Ann Hirsch consider themselves new media, digital or internet artists, or social media or Instagram artists, whose artistic practice involves the usage of a webcam. Molly Soda, who extensively distributed videos of herself performing daily life actions across platforms, is most reminiscent of Ana Voog's Web 1.0 practice as a webcam artist.

Although Ana Voog was very successful and reached an immense community, personal artists' websites have generally not been capable of building networks or communities to render their own artworks more visible. Today, artists active online on social media disseminate their art on the internet and interact more directly with their audience. They are also able to bypass the conventional art economy system consisting of galleries and museums, by selling their work directly to collectors. "Considering that more people follow artists' online practice than would have access to their IRL practice, the former becomes an important tool for visibility and integral

<sup>13</sup> Unedited refers only to the fact that no cuts were made. The work of Isaac Leung is an exception, as he used the webcam as a research tool and planned to exhibit selected screenshots only.

part of what constitutes a practice as a whole" (Blume 2016, p. 12). Therefore, today, a wide variety of artists using webcams for their work engage with social media. On his Instagram channel, Andy Kassier presents himself as the cliché of the rich, successful white male; Leah Schrager created the online persona ONA to critically explore the possibilities of getting famous on Instagram. Arvida Byström and Petra Collins engage with female aesthetics in the digital realm, support body positivity and criticize the limiting, discriminatory norms of Instagram's community guidelines. Petra Collins replied that she exists because of the internet, after artist Marylin Minter told her, "your generation 'sees' you. My generation couldn't 'see' me, because there were still hierarchies of culture" (Minter and Collins 2017, p. 88 in Weidinger and Meier 2018, p. 11). Ana Voog's *anacam* is one of the early examples of how to successfully break, discuss and protest against these hierarchies of culture. Today's social media platforms enabled artists—especially young artists, female artists and artists who are marginalized in the offline art economy—to be seen in online communities and create a successful online appearance. The webcam, now used for many different ways of self-representation, helps artists to interact with like-minded people, to create an audience for their art practice, and to gain recognition and relevance. Thanks to the webcam and the Internet, artists are in control of their own public image and can shape their own narratives. They can reach an audience without the need to bend and buckle to fulfill the norms of the offline art world to be seen and appreciated.

*Tina Sauerlaender is a curator of digital art and virtual reality. She is pursuing a PhD in the department of Interface Cultures, Art University, Linz, Austria. Her topic is Artistic Self-Representation in Digital Art. Her PhD research is supervised by Prof. Christa Sommerer, Linz, and Christiane Paul, associate professor in the School of Media Studies at The New School, New York.*

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Durbin, Kate. 2015. Cloud Nine, Video. Kate Durbin personal archive.

Glass, Kate. Why do people overshare online. *BBC Magazine Monitor*. October 23. Available online: bbc.com/news/blogs-magazine-monitor-29744828 (accessed on 11 July 2020).


© 2021 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/).
