I never met or corresponded with Steve Gilliard, but my timid forays into the world of online expression occasionally strayed across his blazing trail to cyber-immortality.
Steve was a mainstay of the World Wide Web Artists Consortium, an early new media organization and mailinglist whose endless flame wars could crash any server within minutes of subscribing. In this primordial stew of future web entrepreneurs, e-pportunists, and net slaves, Steve was the one person who could always spot the bullshit. He instinctively knew which trends and technologies promised liberation, which just rewired business as usual. And he was more than happy to share this knowledge!
Steve was a mainstay of the World Wide Web Artists Consortium, an early new media organization and mailinglist whose endless flame wars could crash any server within minutes of subscribing. In this primordial stew of future web entrepreneurs, e-pportunists, and net slaves, Steve was the one person who could always spot the bullshit. He instinctively knew which trends and technologies promised liberation, which just rewired business as usual. And he was more than happy to share this knowledge!
Fierce, impassioned, overflowing with words on every topic, he was a major force in the debates that roiled the list. Though I usually agreed with him, I didn't join the fray. Conditioned to a passive spectatorship by the media I'd grown up with, I watched the discussion without any sense of belonging to it. The virtual world was still something that appeared on a screen, not a place that I too could inhabit.
Steve was not only passionate, but prescient. Dotcommunism joined the other gods that failed, and soon the Bush era was upon us. In the catastrophes that followed, those of us who still looked to the screens for our reality saw only our powerlessness. But others turned away from the media's flat panels to build new means of communication and interaction. I came late to this arena, but when I finally pushed off beyond sporadic Salon links to the high Blogosphere -- there was Steve again! The same unmistakable voice, still setting off reverberations throughout the virtual universe.
Steve was not only passionate, but prescient. Dotcommunism joined the other gods that failed, and soon the Bush era was upon us. In the catastrophes that followed, those of us who still looked to the screens for our reality saw only our powerlessness. But others turned away from the media's flat panels to build new means of communication and interaction. I came late to this arena, but when I finally pushed off beyond sporadic Salon links to the high Blogosphere -- there was Steve again! The same unmistakable voice, still setting off reverberations throughout the virtual universe.
It gave me a feeling of continuity and connection to find him here. The blogosphere no longer seemed like a disembodied place, the virgin birthling of the internet and the political void. Through Steve it took on a history that reached beyond the passions of the moment to shared sensibilities and struggles with which I had always identified. His presence made me feel welcome, among friends, people who like Steve felt compelled to respond with righteous indignation against a world bent on their surrender.
Steve's voice is tragically gone, but I can think of no greater tribute to his memory than to try to follow his example.
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