Friedrich Kittler’s books construct a firmly material foundation below the idea of discourse as Michel Foucault framed it: the conventions and boundaries of what can be said at any given time. These are the shifts, he says, that constitute historical change. Taking over Foucault’s broad timeframe (one such shift about 1800, another about 1900), Kittler examines the impact of Grammophone, Film, Typewriter (Stanford: Stanford University Press) on 19th-century European discourse. In his account the typewriter’s impact on social relationships, Kittler quotes from a book by two economists writing in 1895:
…it may come as a surprise to find a practical use for what has become a veritable plague across the country, namely, piano lessons for young girls: the resultant dexterity is very useful for the operation of the typewriter. Rapid typing on it can be achieved only through the dexterous use of all fingers. If this profession is not yet as lucrative in Germany as it is in America, it is due to the infiltration of elements who perform the job of typist mechanically, without any additional skills.
Julius Mayer and Josef Silbermann, Die Frau im Handel und Gewerbe, Der Existenzkampf der Frau im modernen Leben. Seine Ziele und Aussichten [Women in Business and Industry. Women’s Struggle for Existence in Modern Life. Her Goals and Prospects] 7, Berlin, 1895, 264.
Usually abbreviated as GUI, it’s the term for physical shape, size, color and arrangement of the physical controls that put a human being in control of an industrial product. Designers of “personal technology” devices, perhaps game designers in particular, think about it a lot because it can spell the difference between a device that becomes easy and familiar — in short, a device one can play with — and one that’s a constant frustration.
The piano keyboard is an early and astonishingly successful example of an interface that expresses, or better, materialises an idea about sound. It also incorporates a sensitive and intelligent definition of “average” adult human hands — and ears and brains.
“We must awaken from our parents’ dreams” is the way I remember the passage from Benjamin, from the Arcades Project. It’s not exactly right. A related one, “Each epoch dreams the one that follows” covers some of the same ground. But I think my mother dreamed of her daughter playing the piano. The dream was visual, not acoustic.
I didn’t dream it. I analyzed, memorised, practiced, sorted out fingering and fought the gnawing suspicion that no one was listening. Even now I don’t think anyone was listening. Maybe Dad, occasionally. Mother was looking. The image reproduced here could be mother’s dream, an image I could never have seen when I was seven or eight. Now I can.