My friends and I selected this place because it is alone and forgotten along with the rest of the buildings aligning the abused thoroughfare of our post industrial city.  Each of my friends were born and raised with the crumbling monsters in our landscape.  The world changed sometime during our childhood and our families could not make money running machines that spit grease and oil.  They made so much noise our parents came home yelling their complaints of sore joints, tired muscles, and monotony.  They talked of places where they could go to find work.  That would mean our group would be separated soon.  We would overhear of how the inevitable separation was due to the machines leaving to third world countries where cheaper zombies made less noise, and worked longer for less brains.  So here I find myself waiting for our last gathering to make something beautiful in this grey landscape.

            This building smells of sewage coming from a busted sewer pipe that has leaked our cities secrets in to a pool collecting volume next to an old gearbox in back of our building.  Next to me is my backpack full of the supplies I will need for today.  I double check to make sure I have everything I need.  Not that it would do me any good out here, but I double check anyway for the sense of satisfaction and achievement.  Pair of gloves stolen from my mother’s job, check, various caps, check, a painters mask, check, and last the various aerosol colors offered by the hardware store built in less than 3 months, check.  I find the aroma of aerosol paints pleasant, but would never inhale them because of my obsession with health and a fear of death.

            My friends finally arrive with their tools of our chosen trade.  We immediately go through our informal greetings, and share the latest information of areas claimed.  Someone takes out the plan he spent all night drafting.  Each moniker is their and flows together in a single unified style.  These identities are our subjects, and this rotting structure has become our canvass.  We work together in silence occasionally interrupted by our congratulatory remarks to feed our adolescent egos.  Together we work nonstop until the last of us are finished.  Stepping back we can see our labor illuminated by the light shinning through the collapsing roof.

            We stand together proud of what we did to together as a whole.  Each of us knew this would be the last time we could be vulnerable and expose what makes us unique.  We would see each other for a few more days, but not like this.  Not with crumbling structure surrounding us.  Providing a canvass, and reason to be together alone and honest

Dada and digital art involve the use of collage as a medium. Dadaism used more physical material taken from printed material. Digital art uses the digital medium to create its collages. What I find interesting is that both are embracing, in some way, the idea that art is not original. Each generation builds on each other and uses contemporary culture to add a new element, making the new work original.

As a warning to the reader I am writing in response to an article, or book (I do not know) written by Leah Dickerman, that was assigned to me in my Digital Art class. I only read the introduction so any theories or assumptions I make are based on the limited text that was provided to me.

Dadaism is a result of WWI, and the new technology and ideas that came from the war. Mass media is a commercialized form of propaganda, created to advertise the consumption of goods created by the war. The first industrialized war resulted in a standardization of goods that became accessible to everyone. The world became smaller because of improved modes of transportation, and communication resulting in an accessibility of new ideas faster and available to everyone.

Dadaism seems to be a type of rebellion against a system failed them. This includes art. Tristan Tzara writes about her Dada manifesto; “I write this manifesto and I want nothing, and in principle I am against manifestos, as I am against principles.” (Dickerman pg. 10) The idea that one is against principles could come from WWI. This was a war that escalated to encompass the entire western civilization because of treaties between nations. Nations enforced these treaties because of principle, regardless of the harm they caused. Dadaism created a form of expression for the failures of society. When Jacques Vache dressed as an English officer and threatened to shoot up the premier of Mamelles de Tiresias, he personified the mentality or insanity of war and the soldier. What becomes interesting about Dadaism is that it involved all forms of creation. It was not limited in materials or surroundings. The Dadaist placed an emphasis on the idea rather than the aesthetic beauty of art.