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| From the Archive David Bowie |
No atmospheric film, no lush coffee-table book, no poignant memorial concert nor complete vinyl record set will re-embody David Bowie quite like the churning, 24/7 world of the Internet in the hours, days and immediate weeks following the announcement of his death.
The shock of the news drove people to their screens and triggered a relay of declarations, speculations and remembrances. These mass actions and reactions were not only expressed through thoughtfully composed words, but also, of course, in sound and vision.
No-one, but no-one could strike a more compelling pose than David Bowie. This had been evidenced just days before, when social media was saturated with stunning Bowie images for his 69th birthday, and haunting scenes from videos for his new album were etching themselves into consciousness. No doubt the speed and intensity of image circulation escalated 8440% at the realisation that he really had died — just like the percentage increase in his album sales in the US.
Through his family, Bowie asked that he be remembered by his music. We were already there — at first zoning in on our immediate favourites, then recalling others stored deeper in time and memory, and, over the following days, beginning to excavate into his back
catalogue to discover gorgeous, previously unheard anthems and laments. Playlists with 20, 30, 40 astounding songs came together effortlessly.
From the Archive
Wild is the Wind, Station to Station,1976
In that moment of his death, the Internet confirmed its potential as world Archive. Not only as a place to find and download, but also as a site to conserve and upload, order and annotate, rework and reanimate, share and transmit. Archivists — amateur and professional, private, public and corporate — rummaged through everything they held about David Bowie and threw it into the rolling electronic mix.
Like others, I was live editing — extruding elements from the digital ether. At a certain point, I was no longer watching and listening, but inhabiting an unfolding narrative space of surround-sound and vision.
Like others, I was live editing — extruding elements from the digital ether. At a certain point, I was no longer watching and listening, but inhabiting an unfolding narrative space of surround-sound and vision.
We don’t actually need a film, coffee-table book, memorial concert or vinyl record set to memorialise David Bowie, because they are finite with an absolute beginning and end. Instead we have this mammoth, collective archive project, where each day another tremor of new material ushers forth for us to sift through — refusing his death and keeping him alive indefinitely.
And just like Bowie himself, we not only honour his various pasts, but project him into a future (or futures). No-one I have heard or read has considered using the term 'Closure' when it comes to Bowie. We’ve become used to not seeing him around in real time, so we can accept this ever-changing digital archive as a true record of his actual infinite presence.
And just like Bowie himself, we not only honour his various pasts, but project him into a future (or futures). No-one I have heard or read has considered using the term 'Closure' when it comes to Bowie. We’ve become used to not seeing him around in real time, so we can accept this ever-changing digital archive as a true record of his actual infinite presence.
From the Archive
Afternoon Plus, 1979
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