More than anything, it was the fear of loosing my job that drove me from the illicit love of the photocopier into the scanner flatbed of my mistress the computer. The rush and relief of instantaneous reproduction was multiplied now tenfold. I felt the soothing balm of deliverance, salvation from the weighty responsibility of the historical density of objects in space and the possibility at last, of color. At first my work on the computer was clumsy and, predictably, destined for print. As always, memory quickly became a problem. Forgetting how to use the machine almost as quickly as I learned, forgetting where I'd stored things and running out of disc space like nobody's business. I would print out everything three of four times - just in case I lost something, just in case I wanted to cut something up. Ultimately, stacks of piles of folders of papers sprouted up around the house - inadequately out-put and much less luscious than collage. The web was the answer to all that. Outside of the tired discourse surrounding the so-called high-art hierarchy's internal critique of the white-walled gallery and beyond the bind of the printed book, web art can fit to a tee the poststructuralist criteria. If one wants it to, web art can "use theories of language, subjectivity, social processes and institutions to understand existing power relations and to identify areas and strategies for change." (Chris Weedon, Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory, Blackwell, 1987, p40) For the installation artist's conception of the relationships between discreet elements with in a space, for the collage artist's lust for the hybrid, for the writer's quest for the potential for the presentation of the non-linear narrative - the web provides the ultimate terrain.