An exhibition that could only exist on the web.
Cyberfem Networks is an online exhibition of nine net-art works, from 1993 to now, that use the internet itself as their medium. I chose the works, wrote the curatorial text, and designed and hand-coded the site as a network you explore, in the visual language of the era the work came from.
Overview
What happens when the network is the material, not the channel?
Most work about the internet is made somewhere else and put online afterwards. The nine pieces here cannot be moved: take away the jury’s submission system, the inbox, the frameset, the browser, and there is nothing left. That is the argument the exhibition makes, and the reason it had to be a website rather than a paper.

The exhibition as it opens: nine works wired to three threads, under a browser frame with a location bar and a scrolling ticker.
Visit the exhibition ↗The works
Nine works, one medium, thirty years.
VNS MATRIX — ALL NEW GEN, 1993 TO 1994
A cyberfeminist game from the collective credited with helping coin the word, built around a non-binary protagonist sabotaging a patriarchal system. It is the period evidence that this argument is older than the platforms making it now.
MARTINE NEDDAM — MOUCHETTE, 1996 TO NOW
A website run by a thirteen-year-old girl who is not real, and has not aged in thirty years. It asks the visitor questions, invites replies, and keeps them. Thirty years of other people’s answers are part of the work now.
OLIA LIALINA — MY BOYFRIEND CAME BACK FROM THE WAR, 1996
A hypertext conversation between a couple after a war. Every click splits the browser into smaller frames, so the story fractures as you read it. The HTML frameset becomes the emotional form of the piece.
CORNELIA SOLLFRANK — FEMALE EXTENSION, 1997
Sollfrank invented hundreds of fictitious female artists and submitted their work to a museum’s first net-art competition. Two thirds of the entrants were women; all three prizes went to men. The piece reads the bias straight out of the institution that ran it.
OLD BOYS NETWORK — FIRST CYBERFEMINIST INTERNATIONAL, 1997
The first international cyberfeminist alliance, co-founded by Sollfrank. At documenta X it refused to define cyberfeminism and wrote a hundred anti-theses about what it is not instead.
SHU LEA CHEANG — BRANDON, 1998 TO 1999
The Guggenheim’s first web commission, built around the life and murder of Brandon Teena, a trans man in Nebraska. A multi-author space about gender, the body, surveillance and punishment, still running because the museum migrated its code.
SUBROSA — 1998 TO NOW
A collective working where bodies meet technology and labor: reproductive and genetic technologies, biotech, the information economy. Cyberfeminism as an organised practice, not a style.
LEGACY RUSSELL — GLITCH FEMINISM, 2012 TO 2020
An essay that became a manifesto. The glitch as refusal: a body that will not compute inside the gender binary, and the internet as a place to rehearse and build identity rather than only display it.
MOREHSHIN ALLAHYARI — SHE WHO SEES THE UNKNOWN, 2016 TO 2021
3D-modelled and printed re-figurings of female and queer jinn from Middle Eastern myth, alongside her idea of “digital colonialism” — who gets to scan, own and redistribute a culture’s heritage.

Opening a work opens a draggable window: a screenshot, the wall text, its threads, and a link out to the original.
Curation
The selection is the argument.
Nine works, chosen so that no two make the point the same way: a game, a persona, a hypertext, an intervention in a jury, an alliance, a museum commission, a collective, a manifesto, a set of 3D-printed figures. What they share is dependence — each needs a live network to be itself.
Instead of a chronology, I organised them around three threads that run through the whole field: Identity, Resistance, and Networked Bodies. Most works sit on two, so the connections between them carry as much of the argument as the works do. Sollfrank’s intervention and the alliance she co-founded are wired to each other directly.

Following the Identity thread: its works light up, everything off it dims.
Ending on Russell and Allahyari is deliberate. It shows the argument is not a 1990s period piece: the same questions moved into social media and 3D-scanned heritage, and they are still open. Two works deal with violence and self-harm, so they carry a content note before you leave for them, and every work links out to the original, still running at its own address, because sending people to the real thing is the point.
The build
The interface had to belong to the work, not to 2025.
A clean contemporary gallery layout would have flattened these pieces into content. So the site is written in the register of the work it shows: a browser frame with a location bar and a status bar, pixel and monospace type, magenta, green and cyan at full saturation on a near-black dotted grid. The curatorial statement is a README.TXT on the desktop.
The structure is the idea. Works are nodes, threads are hubs, and the wires between them are drawn live, so the exhibition’s argument is something you navigate rather than read about. Hovering a work traces its wires and the status bar reports that it is “connecting” to the work’s real address.
It sounds like the period, too. You enter through a dial-up gateway: pressing ENTER plays a modem handshake while a terminal prints the connection log, then the page dissolves into the network. Inside, every work has its own note, so running a cursor across the nodes or down the index plays a scale. Selecting a thread plays an arpeggio of the works on it, and windows open and close with system blips. All of it is synthesized live with the Web Audio API, with no audio files to load.

The way in. Browsers will not play sound until a visitor acts, so the ENTER click is both the threshold of the exhibition and the gesture that turns the sound on.
Sound is on by default but never forced: “enter without sound” sits under the button, the choice is remembered, and the gateway only appears once per visit.
An experimental interface cannot be the only way in. A second view lists the same nine works as an early-web directory listing, in date order and readable at a glance, and the threads filter it the same way they filter the network.

The Index view: the exhibition as a directory listing.
On a phone the network folds into a grid and windows become full-screen sheets. It is hand-written HTML, CSS and JavaScript with no framework and no build step, and adding a work is one entry in a data file. The exhibition should outlive its toolchain, the way the works it shows have outlived theirs.

On a phone: the works as a grid, and a work open as a sheet.
Reflection
What I would do differently.
1
Give the network a first path.
A network has no front door. A suggested route — start with one thread, end on the contemporary work — would help first-time visitors who do not know where to click.
2
Screenshots are not the work.
Each window shows a still of something that moves and answers back. Short recordings of each piece in use — answering Mouchette, clicking through Lialina’s frames — would show what the caption can only describe.
3
Let each work pull the page toward its own period.
The early-web treatment is right in principle, but it holds one house style across thirty years. The strongest version would let a 1993 game and a 2020 manifesto each change the room around them.
Up next
The rest of the work.