Women Architects and World Fairs

Author: Katarina

On digital surrogacy of magazines.

People vol. 36, no. 7.

During my lifetime, magazines went from a waiting room stable, an airplane must-have, and a beloved piece of mail in my mailbox to nearly entirely obsolete. Culturally, not much is different. People are still interested in reading the news, tabloids or other specialized publications. What has changed is the habit of how they get this information. The format in which they read has evolved to the digital. Why would someone pay for a magazine when they could read the exact same article on the internet for free? Undeniably, users prefer convenience above all else when engaging with media. This trend exists outside of magazines. Video streaming replaced DVD, music streaming replaced CD, and even online shopping has replaced the need to shop in person. The user is given convenience of time, of access, of space, of cost, and of selection. “You can just do it online” has become a defining statement of our current era of user experience. Yet, are these experiences the same? The product may be the same – for magazines, this means getting the same information – but digital surrogates do not fully emulate the embodied experience of physical engagement. Furthermore, when something is unavailable digitally, suddenly the convenience evaporates. Emma Stanford evaluates the user experience with digital surrogates in her chapter “A Field Guide to Digital Surrogates.” Where digitization is a great way to enable multi-platform conveniences, it also necessitates altering the source material. Digital surrogacy is a fundamentally different user experience, and magazines are a model of these differences.

“The hallmark of a bad digital surrogate is that its badness cannot be gauged, because important contextual details are missing. Put another way, there are no bad digital surrogates—only misleading and poorly described ones.”
A Field Guide to Digital Surrogates p210. Emma Stanford.

Emma Stanford argues that digital surrogates are neither perfect substitutes nor are they threats to originals. To tie back to my own previous blog post, digital surrogates do not replace the experience of engaging with works in person. They are not inherently bad nor inherently good. Digitized works exist in their own category as approximations. Their value is in their ability to reproduce and disseminate works, but in turn, they freeze a work into one specific viewing model. This is where digital archivists have to be the most mindful. They want to be sure that they are using best practices and good equipment when digitizing works. Digital archivists have to use very specialized equipment and the work can be quite time consuming. This step is critical and is the invisible labor behind all digital surrogates. What is chosen for digitization depends heavily on the resources and interest of the archivists. That which is given the most attention is most likely to be digitized (and digitized well). There are all kinds of works that are not digitized, and to illustrate the difference between the physical and the digital, I want to make an example out of a personal collection of mine.

I am deeply interested in keeping up with celebrity news. One of my favorite sources for this information is the magazine People. Physical issues have been available since 1974, and now the magazine can be accessed through their website and on social media platforms. Articles and issues published after about 2008 are fairly easy to access through their in-site navigation. The website even offers some web-exclusive articles such as the People StyleWatch section. The online platform also allows for functionality that would otherwise be unavailable in the print format. To name a few, users can click links to products and go directly to its shopping page, they can leave comments on articles, and they can search through tags to read more on news that interests them. All of these conveniences have made it so the digital format has surpassed the physical in popularity. Yet, on the other side, the physical issue has noticeable differences.

Below are two photo scans from the cover article of People vol. 36, no. 7, Patrick Swayze’s Sexiest Man Alive issue from August 26 1991 (rotated for readability). These are digitizations I made using my personal physical copy of the issue.

Digitized spread from Park, Jeannie. “Body and Soul.” People, August 26, 1991.


And below is a screenshot of the digital surrogate of the same article.

Capture from Wayback Machine archive of “Body and Soul.” https://web.archive.org/web/20241115043810/https://people.com/archive/cover-story-body-and-soul-vol-36-no-7/.

The differences should be immediately apparent. In the printed article, the text is formatted around the photos, there are bold letters and block quotes, and the issue was printed in a rotated vertical format. The emphasis in the web version is on the content of the text, and even still, it does not include all of the text. This web digital surrogate – to use Stanford’s reasoning – is bad. It lacks a great deal of contextual information that the print version had. Yet, this is the only version available online as there are – in my search – no photo scans of the issue online. Complicatedly, I was only able to find the digital article on the Wayback Machine – itself a digital surrogate of the internet and not an exact approximation of viewing the article at the time it was published online. It seems the article has been archived from the site and is inaccessible using the site’s navigation bar. Stanford points out that even when works are made digitally accessible, they may not stay accessible forever thereby making the digitization efforts disappear.

So, with all these problems, what is the point of digitization of older magazines at all?

“…while digital surrogates may not be perfect, they are better than nothing, and the need for them is urgent.”
A Field Guide to Digital Surrogates p208. Emma Stanford.

In my perspective, reading this specific issue in person was the only complete option. Even my digitization is itself a digital surrogate, and I used it in this post to serve as a stand in for the actual object. By rotating the pages, I modified the images in a way that alters your viewing experience. The magazine is also more than just the one article. I found the other articles, the vintage advertisements, and the tactile experiences all shaped how I engaged with this piece of media. I love collecting physical media, but of course this is not always an option for everyone. And while the demand for this issue might not be high, I think it would be a good idea for me to photo scan the rest of the pages and upload them. Now, if only I could figure out if that is legal under copyright… that is a thought for another day.

Can you become an art history expert without ever setting foot into a physical museum?

Photograph of Les Demoiselles d’Avignon – Pablo Picasso 1907 – in the Blanchette Hooker Rockefeller Gallery at the MoMA. Photo taken by Katarina Baltisberger, 2026.

Does digital art history substitute the need for art tourism?

I recently took a trip to the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, a museum that is six floors of some of the best-known artworks in the canon of Western Modern art. Virtually every gallery had a work of art that I had either studied extensively or a work by an artist I have studied extensively. One of the highlights of the collection is Pablo Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, a large-scale painting that revolutionized depictions of the human form through a distinct and developing Modern subject. The painting has established a reputation as emblematic of several converging art movements that emerged from the early 20th century that solidified Les Demoiselles as one of Picasso’s most analyzed works of art. It is an essential work of art to study in university level art history courses; I personally have studied the work in multiple classes. So, when I finally saw Les Demoiselles in person for the first time, I found that I had very little left to engage with.

In The Digital Transformation of Art History, a chapter from the 2020 book Companion to Digital Humanities and Art History – Harald Klinke explores the notion of “distant viewing” (p.34). Alois Riegl coined the term in 1897/8 – originally Fernsicht – to distinguish how our modes of viewing are altered based on our physical proximity to a work of art. When up close to a painting, we can study and understand that the work is made of brushstrokes and, in turn, when far away from a painting, we can employ methodological study the broader work of art. This framework was developed assuming the viewer would be physically in front of a work of art, so, the question is, how do digital renderings of art change our modes of viewing?

The field of art history began in grand tours and flaneur style connoisseurship. Art pilgrimages remain the peak to any art historical research today (otherwise, why would we set departmental travel funds aside for students wanting to see researched works in person?). Yet, for me with Les Demoiselles, I felt that the MoMA had done sufficient work in producing digital renderings of the painting that I as a viewer and student had enough visual information to study the work of art through digital-born distant viewing. I can admit, I am not a Picasso scholar, but I am a Modernist, and in that moment, I felt surprised that I extracted very little from my close viewing experience with Les Demoiselles. So, does this mean that museums are obsolete? Do we even need to go see works of art in person at all if their digital stand-in counterparts do the job? I’d even ask one question further: hypothetically, could you become an art history expert without ever setting foot into a physical museum?

Klinke counters these questions by posing specific difficulties of relying on digital-only modes of viewing. As he sees it, our current systems of digital viewing do not serve as complete enough of platforms to support research questions (p.36). The data associated with works of art could be irrelevant, insufficient, and invalid. Their visualizations only tell part of the story behind the work and lack distinct interactivity. Why would a researcher have to travel to the MoMA to see Les Demoiselles d’Avignon when they could just go online and look up an image of it themselves? Digital art history aims to do what conventional art history cannot – it allows equal access. Yet, as a consequence of doing so, Klinke observes that art historical research is largely conducted alone. Klinke argues that digital art history should not replace conventional methods of art history and should serve as an extension of traditional approaches that enhances and deepens understanding.

Where spaces like museums, libraries, and classrooms may feel obsolete now that you can just look up the same information online, digital spaces do not allow the same level of collaborative communication. Distant viewing when done alone without contextual information is just looking. Collaboration through learning visual and digital literacy skills is the key to true art historical understanding. My viewing experience of seeing Les Demoiselles at the museum was not deeply stimulating, but this is because I have already done so much collaborative visual learning on the painting in the classroom. While I am still unsure if someone could become an expert in art history without ever setting foot into an art museum, I do feel strongly that someone cannot become an expert in art history by themselves. In creating this blog, here is my own kind of attempt at engaging in digital art history through a more social internet. I put my thoughts into the world with hopes that it creates collaborative and productive art historical discussion.