Folding back the web
One metaphor at a time.
fold (v.) Of the arms, from late Old English. Intransitive sense “become doubled upon itself” is from c. 1300 (of the body); earlier “give way, fail” (mid-13c.). Sense of “to yield to pressure” is from late 14c. The weak conjugation developed from 15c. Related: Folded; folding.
fold (n.) “pen or enclosure for sheep or other domestic animals,” Old English falæd, falud “stall, stable, cattle-pen,” a general Germanic word (cognates: East Frisian folt “enclosure, dunghill,” Dutch vaalt “dunghill,” Danish fold “pen for sheep”), of uncertain origin. Figurative use by mid-14c.
We all want to fold the web — at least in our way. We want to make it ours, put it in our pocket to have with us always. When the internet doesn’t work, we scream, this can’t be, my life depends on it. We want to be able to open it when we want to. It’s our world after all**keep it a secret and have it be the holder of our secrets**. But also we want to understand. We use the metaphor of the fold to understand a flat space, a screen. 3D is coming, but first we should understand the screen depth that already makes up our world and that we are so ready to fold into acceptance, that dictates so much of who we are and how we act — if we let it, of course. And then we should understand 3D before it folds us over too. So what does folding the web really mean?
It’s a borrowed idea to talk about what we don’t understand, and sometimes, what we aren’t ‘allowed’ to understand. It’s taken from print, from books. The web is still a page is a page is a page, and it still borrows concepts that date back to the middle ages. In design we use the phrase ‘above the fold’ to talk about something that isn’t even folded. Even designers (myself included) cannot see the full picture, the codes running behind. But we borrow from the past, metaphors emerge, to understand and to continue. If we really were to fold, aside from thinking of books, what would it look like? What would folding be without the metaphor of the page?
It’s a notion of class and of privileged hands (or not). Because hands here are the tools used to fold (and if not, automated machines replace hands — and jobs). Either way, it’s the dirty work, hidden behind glittering interfaces. Work that requires hands is often seen as blue collar, lower class work. The others have the privileged hands to type and to own, to store their items in the folders. Where would we be surfing the web if it wasn’t for those invisible hands working behind the scenes, those hands that fold the wires of your machines in factories that allow you to fold in the first place? I couldn’t have said it better myself:
“They get worn out,” he said, and he wasn’t talking about my underwear, but about the women who folded it. It was unclear whether the source of the exhaustion was the physical aspect of the labor, or the emotional burden of caring for so many strangers’ garments.
Sadie Plant famously argued that the material of digital culture is textile. If this is the case, the work of “folding” our digital material–keeping it tidy and organized and presentable–is largely, and perhaps unwisely, entrusted to platforms, where our folders can now be found. — Michael Connor, Folding the Web
And speaking of hands: it’s physical, of the body, of fat — don’t let them tell you otherwise. There is no divide between a virtual and a real world. They want it that way. They want your phone to be your extension, but an extension into a fantasy world that they control. And the fold is no different. It’s a crease, a physical mark on a space. We leave our marks. We fold our data into it. See the definition above: it’s a pen that encloses us, our bodies and our minds. It connects us together, pens us, into a community or a corporate prison — or both.
But for me, it’s about the in-between, the crease. It’s about what I can’t quite put into words, even in this article here. I’ve thought a lot about the idea of folding. I always come back to it, even in my own publication Flee Immediately!. It has also been discussed before (see the article by Michael Connor above, again he says it better than me). And it’s definitely not new. But even if the words aren’t there it’s about creasing away, moving your own hands, gaining back control, empowering the lines in the ways that you want them to crease. Make your own wrinkles. I don’t know all the answers yet, but I’m folding back layer by layer to find out — join me.
