for me, only lily is real.
the ether and i: lily chou chou & the allure of anonymity
i don't know if any of you have seen the shunji iwai film 'all about lily chou chou' - despite cult origins it has become fairly popular as of recently, especially online. i watched aalcc a while ago and it left a lasting impression on me, especially the cinematography - from iwai's inspired colouring choices to the way salyu's music brought lily to life.
however, it was the concept of the ether that stood out most to me ... since i was younger i have found myself drawn to anonymous corners of the internet. maybe it's the promise of invisibility that makes sites like that so alluring - the sense that you are invulnerable in revealing your feelings. it's funny to me (yet tragic) that you can bare your soul to millions online and never be seen ... proximity with guaranteed distance, is that an oxymoron?
bbs messaging services like the ether, especially from older eras of the internet, do have an undeniable charm. maybe it's the feeling that everyone was still starting out, excited by the prospects of the digital age. the aesthetics of the ether in the film are curated very tastefully in my eyes, the mojibake highlighting a removed digital identity for yuichi once he takes the name of philia online.
i know that iwai himself brought the ether to life following the release of his book, even putting some of the characters on the platform ... yet another aspect of anonymity to consider - especially with the rise of artificial intelligence - who's to say that your internet friend hasn't got a binary heart instead of a beating one? the concern is no longer whether those (perceived as) close to you are really fifty year old men named chuck living in their mum's basement, but whether they are living at all. although maybe that's something to think about ... if a writer here's already not dependent on an audience, does it make a difference to you if interactions with you are artificial? why would it frustrate someone to be followed by bots, yet be perfectly comfortable broadcasting their experience to the void otherwise? maybe these questions have obvious answers in a desire for human interaction, if any interaction at all, but i find it interesting to think about with ai becoming more and more pervasive in online spaces.
returning from that tangent to the concept of proximity despite distance, it's also interesting to consider how close you can truly get with someone without crossing certain milestones. nobody denies the concept of internet friends (once somehow passing the cryptic thresholds of oomf and mutual) in this day and age, but without ever disclosing any identity beyond your - presented - personality and interests alone, does that truly constitute knowing someone? or is it the inverse - maybe knowing someone on the digital plane instead leads to a deeper friendship: one where you know someone for who they truly are, beyond superficial appearances. this probably has a name, but i think of it as the ready-player-one-dilemma - in the novel, one individual feels as if they know another deeply, whilst the other insists it's only the version of themselves they're portraying online. so what comes with anonymity: a deeper connection, or perceived closeness with a curated image?
another feature of internet anonymity that fascinates me is the idea that you never truly know who's behind something - or who it was intended for. my favourite example of this is the unsent project: a collection of digital love letters, distinguished only by the name and colour each author associates with their recipient. of course, the content of a message may reveal who it's meant for, but in the end you never truly know who wrote it - or who they intended to receive it. of course, when 'addressed' to a nickname of yours, any message can easily begin to sound like it was meant for your eyes only (especially if your name is less common). for a very long time i had no messages, but now under my name, against a pink background is an incredibly short but sweet sentence - indeed, it could be for any [alaska] in the world, but a part of me is always going to believe that it was intended for me alone.
another phenomenon linked to the idea of internet anonymity is the community it can (surprisingly) foster. when i think back to the time i spent on the internet as a child, a large part of it was community-based despite maintaining high levels of anonymity - the importance of internet safety had practically been drilled into us, of course. spaces like scratch let a young alaska discover the joys of warrior cat roleplays, unleashing unrestrained strings of verbal cringe onto the 'studios' of that website, unburdened by fears of any classmates perceiving me. i owe a lot to the internet strangers - or even friends -back then, as their encouragement of my (admittedly) abysmal beginner artwork ensured i didn't give up on building that skill. if it wasn't for a space where children could exist - (from my experience at least) safely due to moderation with an iron fist - and anonymously encourage each other to share their blissfully cringe ideas, who knows: maybe i wouldn't be creating art today. the same kind of network was found in multiplayer games such as animal jam or minecraft - companionship without vulnerability or attachment to my life outside. i would talk for hours with people on either site, double tapping to sprint in endless loops whilst waiting for their next response. even back then, there was something thrilling(?) yet melancholy about having a connection rooted in impermanence - i knew that the next time i logged on, they could be offline never to be contacted again. of course, i'm not negating the dangers of the internet: unmoderated multi-user sites have their flaws, and i do not think children should be in spaces without content filters or safety settings. however. there is an importance, i feel, in having spaces like that to exist freely without any ties to your life in the 'real world.' maybe for children alone is a separate discussion (we don't need any more ipad kids), but the disappearance of third places - both online and offline - is a detrimental issue.
a pandemic of loneliness is rapidly emerging due to the severe lack in community. despite hobbyist clubs being available, or a few designated public spaces like libraries, many settings for people to form connections are disappearing - or require spending. these spaces where one can exist freely outside of work or home without needing to pay is referred to as a ‘third place’. many teenagers are demonised for loitering in public (or indeed, spending too much time online,) yet there are few systems in place to provide them with a sense of community that would reduce their need to find refuge in the digital realm. we even see this in aalcc, where the ether becomes an online oasis for troubled teenagers to connect anonymously over their shared love for lily. of course, to call these communities assumes that yes, connection truly is possible even without knowing a baseline level of someone's identity. i would say i do believe that - at the very least when considering relationships of a surface level.
to return to the origin of my thoughts - the piece above was created for a student film zine centred around the theme of obsession. inspired by aalcc, i decided to envision what one of lily's (signed) cds may look like - especially if found after the final events of the film. i hope it showcases the idolisation of lily and reveals the extent of fan obsession. i'm quite proud of this, since it's more graphic than my usual approach to art - i found i do enjoy design aspects alongside the traditional practice of drawing. although my thoughts written here haven't directly been centred around the idea of obsession, i'm definitely drawn to the concept of anonymous online spaces - is it bordering on obsession yet? maybe the length of this post should be evidence enough (joking....). either way, i think there definitely can be an obsessive element to online anonymity, whether you are sharing content or interacting with those sharing it: there's something addictive about feeling unknown but not unseen. i've had my fair share of anonymous accounts for different purposes, but this one is (hoping to become) my most transparent one yet. although considering what i have just written about, who can really determine my authenticity? whether it's still ruled a curated performance, or instead a truly authentic documentation of my feelings, i hope those perceiving my content will enjoy the things i share.
thank you for reading this far, whoever you are :-)
