Right now, websites are the domain of the graphic designer. I’m not sure why the web hasn’t been leapt upon by modern fine artists as an exciting new canvas and set of media. Video can be fine art. Sculpture can be fine art. A banana dangling from a string attached to the ceiling can, apparently, be fine art.

Why not a website?

A webpage is a blank canvas. It’s been utilised well by writers and graphic designers, so why can’t artists use a webpage as a canvas? The obvious negative side to this approach is the fact webpages are unreliable, and typically look different depending on the technology of the viewer. A canvas is static, a webpage is scalable. (Surely, an artist could keep that in mind and accommodate this idea into the thesis behind the work?) I think it’s definitely something that could be experimented with.  You can make a mark on a webpage in lots of ways: HTML, CSS, images, text, space …

One of the things I’ve really wanted to do is to experiment with telling a story through a sequence of pictures. The pictures could be scrolled to or clicked through. I’d like to try doing something really unusual (and, of course, not functional, which is part of the beauty of it) with a webpage. Something that makes you stop and stare and paste the link to your friends. Something that breaks with all the convention of what we’ve seen visually on the web.

While I’d hate to occupy the kind of close-minded views religious monks occupied towards Gutenberg’s “black-arts” movable type printing press, I’m not sure about the Amazon Kindle, which is hailed as the first revolution in reading since 1436.

I like the smell of ink and paper when I read. Not because it’s associated in my mind with my history of enjoying ideas, language, narrative and plot. But because reading from a book is a great tactile experience, and pleasurable because it is engaging both mentally and sensuously. I like the feel of paper as I turn the page, I like the smell of ink. I enjoy interactivity with the book when I accidentally smudge characters on the page. I also dog-ear my books prolifically, and enjoy it. With the Kindle, can I dog-ear? From the look of it, it is doubtful.

I also like old books which have been passed down, re-bought, inherited, and inevitably with some drawings in the page gutter, doodles and notes scrawled around the text, or the name of the owner and date of purchase on the inside of the cover. With the Kindle, all this is lost.

What’s more, what about the perceived social aspect of reading? I’ll confess I quite like being the voyeur on public transport and spotting what people are reading. In 2004 I noticed six out of ten commuters on the Boston T all reading Dan Brown’s ‘Da Vinci Code’. With the Kindle, all we’ll see is six out of ten commuters holding a grey Etch-a-Sketch.

What about artists and illustrators, whose work became famous through the medium? Book covers and title pages existed originally to protect the unbound book from dust and damage, but now the data is digital, there is no need for physical means of protection.

The only thing that really tempts me is the prospect of being able to read comfortably in bed. No more awkward page-turning accompanied by shifting over. With the Kindle, the exercise of imagination and innovation in finding a comfortable position to read is lost.