As designers we are
not yet sure how to

readily accessible. That is probably why most noncommercial webcast content (or Web TV) is tripe—and some of the commercial stuff is obviously tripe too. Personally, I do not count the “ferrets channel” in this negative judgement; those creatures clearly know how to have a good time. But, frankly, I do wonder why so many guys who can afford the technologies to webcast cannot afford shirts.

But there are also more and more skilled performers seeking out new audiences, hoping for a global reach for their craft.

Certainly, the DJs we talked to see webcasting as offering new opportunities for reaching new audiences. As someone who has been actively researching computer-mediated communication for more than a decade, I’m fascinated by the use of webcasting to perform live shows. That’s in part because every DJ I have talked to who performs live shows (and even radio DJs, to a certain extent) talks about how they “read” the crowd, garner a sense of the energy in the place, and manipulate its ebbs and flows with music to amp up the crowd, maintain a pace, or slow it down. DJs seem to see themselves as the puppet-masters of crowd energy, playing with the dynamics of movement on the dance floor. But this takes close monitoring. Arguably, it takes co-presence—being there to see and feel the energy. So how does this happen with a webcast? Is it possible?

In the world of videoconfer-encing, we have been dealing with connection and communication for an age, but the art of creating a DJ show through webcasting brings a different set of

challenges. Audience members come and go; there is no organizational or relationship imperative to stay engaged, the way there is in a work meeting. Most of the excellent work on video-conferencing in education or corporate settings therefore has little bearing on the situation in which DJs find themselves. The bulk of this work describes a technology that has a role in a very differently prescribed set of social relationships.

However, some ideas that are obviously of relevance involve how small features in simple interfaces allow us to create a sense of the presence of others. A video feed clearly and explicitly shows that someone else is there and what they are up to—hence the success of video cameras for surveillance. But more subtle cues can also tell us someone is watching or has been there. In the physical world this may be the sound of a footfall or the depression in a cushion. Online, there are the sounds of someone signing on or leaving a chat. Textual changes to a webpage or a wiki indicate someone has been there and left a mark.

It is amazing how these small, subtle cues make someone who is very far away feel close to you. This sounds stupid until you have experienced it. I know how a line of text on a screen that reads “ 1 view” can feel like a touch on the shoulder. The first time I saw the “ 1 view” indicator on a picture I had posted on Flickr, I felt like someone had reached through the computer screen and touched me. In a flash, I went from comfort zone to twilight zone—someone out there on the Internet was looking at the picture I uploaded

create co-presence
and a crowd out of
a disparate group
of individuals with
webcams, their worlds
connected only by
video feeds. These
performances are a
way for us to think
about the construction
of audience and the
creation of crowd.

30 seconds ago. And in that moment I thought: I don’t know who that someone is or why they are looking at my picture. I felt oddly exposed, though clearly that ghostly touch was from someone far away.

Humans are strongly attuned to registering the slightest of cues. And we will ascribe meaning to those cues. The most abstract indicators become signs with potential for rich social meaning. It is perhaps this tendency that ensures the continuing financial success of horoscopes, crystal-ball gazing, and the reading of tea leaves.