As Dr. Pressman said in the lecture about Electronic Literature, “any time there’s new tools or technologies, artists play with them.” When watching the lecture, I was amazed at how artists took the computer and coding to another level to create meaningful art and challenge how people interact with the digital world. Though I know AI is relatively new, I feel like it’s been around or at least talked about so extensively that I’ve thought of it as something I’ve known for a while. Which is why I was surprised when, just recently, I saw an artist’s digital artwork that uses the common mistakes and uncanniness of AI art to create their own art. Somehow, though the art was a terrifying amalgamation despite using bright colors, it felt like it had a soul. I enjoyed its dilapidated subject that was blurred and had an odd amount of fingers, but wondered where the wonder and want for creating using technology has gone.  Personally, I feel limited in my use of the digital, especially with corporations shoving their products down my throat. No longer do I have the same curiosities and willingness to sit in front of a computer and simply explore internet spaces. Though I’m aware the internet is practically limitless in the things you can find, nowadays it feels more restricted to a few search engines, similar formats that encourage endless scrolling, and constant advertisements. Seeing all of the creative endeavors that occurred in previous years, with the development of the internet, makes me crave electronic literature. Yet, I also fear the sustainability of electronic literature. 

As we’ve heard in class, things like Mark Marino’s “Marginalia in the Library of Babel,” have gone dark because of a shift in technology. Though “Marginalia in the Library of Babel,” was restored and functions the way it’s supposed to, some other pages from Flash don’t get as lucky as being restored properly. Recently, I revisited my favorite childhood game “Poptropica,” which was ran with Flash, then restored, but not to the same quality as it was in the 2000s. This makes me question when the pages, articles, games, and art I consume online will simply disappear one day, and if they’d feel or be the same as they were. Obviously, it seems like a case-by-case situation, but it still makes me question what we leave behind in order to pursue the new.