(Nip)ulations: The Nipulator Electronic Bra and the Embodiment of the Image Processing Tool

This essay reflects on the conception and technical evolution of The Nipulator (Fig. 1), a custom-built electronic bra that functions both as an instrument for live video and sound processing as well as a feminist art object. My work with several rare and historically significant image and sound processing tools informed the unique wearable device, as well as my broader artistic practice, which includes experimental single-channel video, electronic music, performance for an audience, and installation.

Early encounters with such tools as the Sandin Image Processor and Jones Frame Buffer took place during my undergraduate studies at Alfred University in Alfred, New York, and during artist residencies at the Experimental Television Center (ETC) in Owego, New York. More recently, my work with historically significant image processing tools like the Paik-Abe Raster Manipulation Unit (aka the “Wobbulator”) continued during artist residencies at Signal Culture in Owego, New York, and the Institute for Electronic Arts (IEA) in Alfred, New York.

Creation of The Nipulator was also informed by the work of early video/media art pioneers Nam June Paik, Charlotte Moorman, and Steina and Woody Vasulka, as well as feminist video works by Joan Jonas, Martha Rosler, and Dara Birnbaum, among other artistic influences and personal experiences. I have featured The Nipulator in several single-channel videos in which I use the bra to (nip)ulate my voice and image in real-time, solo performances for a live audience, and with the collaborative audiovisual performance trio Tit Band.

I was first introduced to real-time image and sound processing in the early 2000s by illustrious practitioners/professors Peer Bode, Andrew Deutsch, and Pamela Susan Hawkins, while an undergraduate student at the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University, a small but prominent art school in western New York state. I made several experimental single-channel videos in the school’s video studio, which featured an eclectic collection of hardware and software tools. Some were mass produced, like the Videonics MXpro digital video mixer [1], and some were designed for artists by artists, like the Sandin Image Processor, a modular analog video synthesizer designed by Chicago artist and toolmaker Dan Sandin in the early 1970s [2] and built in the early 1980s by Alfred University professor Harland Snodgrass with his painting students [3]. In addition to making singlechannel videos, I recorded innumerable hours of improvised electronic music in the school’s sound studio with classmate, friend, and collaborator Laura Payeur. The sound studio was another hybrid analog/digital system that included a modular analog audio synthesizer, Alesis MidiVerb Multi-Effects Processors [4], and Henry Lowengard’s Harmonizer software (which ran on a Commodore Amiga 1000 and featured pitch shifting that could be performed in real time with the movement of a mouse) [5], among many other tools that Payeur and I incorporated in our music.

At that time, I was particularly interested in working with Alfred University’s Designlab FB-1 Frame Buffer, which was another tool made specifically for artists, created in the mid-1980s by artist and engineer Dave Jones. The Jones Frame Buffer could store and retrieve 32 frames of video and included control voltage inputs, a feature that was unique among contemporaneous frame buffers [6]. However, it was the instrument’s capacity to receive an audio signal via the control voltage inputs, thus producing audio reactive effects, that I found most exciting, as it offered a way to merge my video and sound work. In process(ed) (Fig. 2), I documented my collaboration with Payeur during one of our recording sessions in the sound studio. All of our music was recorded live, with no post-production mixing, editing, or effects. In this black-and-white video, our music was transmuted into visual form, as horizontal lines generated by the audio signal danced across the screen. This confluence of visuals and sound spoke both to the affinity and fluidity of analog audio and video signals. The decision to document our collaborative process on video was fortuitous, as tragically, Payeur was killed at the age of 24 in a car accident in Thorndike, Maine, shortly after graduating from Alfred University in 2003.

process(ed) marked the inception of my interest in featuring the tools and systems being used in my creative practice as subject for the artwork. Film and video production equipment like lights, cameras, and microphones are normally hidden from sight in conventional moving image media (broadcast television and narrative filmmaking) in order to maintain the viewer’s suspension of disbelief. Similarly, postproduction editing is meant to construct a continuous and seamless narrative while also masking the imperfections of the production process. But what happens when the viewer experiences the process and product simultaneously? This question is explored in several of my single-channel videos in which I am seen using image processing tools and systems in real time, including process(ed), t(we)aking, and Excerpt: Untitled (with Last Jam) (Fig. 3), as well as in more recent videos. In these works, as with The Nipulator electronic bra, I consider where the art is located: Is it in the process, the product, or both? In contrast to commercial moving image media, which is highly edited, fast-paced, and polished, my process is often aleatoric and allows for chance, improvisation, and imperfection, as well as a deconstruction of the video image. In my work, process and product are inextricably linked.

At Alfred University, in addition to being introduced to real-time image and sound processing tools and techniques, I was exposed to a myriad of influential art movements and artists. Body, conceptual, feminist, performance, and video art from the 1960s and 1970s, as well as Fluxus, were of particular interest. Nam June Paik’s pioneering and prolific work in video art, video synthesis, sculpture, installation, performance, and broadcast television was, and continues to be, profoundly inspiring. Equally inspiring were Steina and Woody Vasulka’s innovative early experiments with the Rutt/Etra Scan Processor and other custom-made video instruments that investigated the material potentiality of the electronic audio/video signal [7].

Additionally, three seminal feminist single-channel videos that made an enduring impression on my artistic practice were Vertical Roll by Joan Jonas (1972), Semiotics of the Kitchen by Martha Rosler (1975), and Technology/Transformation: Wonder Woman by Dara Birnbaum (1978). Each piece utilized the newly accessible video medium to challenge the way femininity, sexuality, and gender roles were represented in television and popular culture in distinctive yet analogous ways. Simply put, Vertical Roll employed the absence of video sync as a formal device to distort the image and draw attention to the ways in which the female body is typically presented onscreen [8], while Semiotics of the Kitchen and Technology/Transformation: Wonder Woman parodied (and reworked) broadcast television tropes through the use of performance and repurposed footage, respectively [9,10].

My work with Dave Jones’s tools, several of which were custom made for the Experimental Television Center, continued after college during three artist residencies at ETC, in 2003, 2007, and 2008. I employed the Jones Frame Buffer’s capacity for audio reactivity again in Mating Call (2003) and Laura’s Song (2003), shortly after Payeur’s death, again featuring our collaborative electronic music in these videos. I also became captivated with another of Jones’s tools, the Jones Sequencer, which was capable of switching between eight video inputs in rapid succession, and could use control voltage to trigger the switching [11]. With this tool, I made three single-channel videos—Excerpt: Untitled with Last Jam (2003), “Evergreen” (2008), and LOOSE CONTROL (2008)— by sending an audio signal into the control voltage inputs. The Sequencer’s audio reactivity had a different visual effect from the Frame Buffer, in that the sound did not represent itself in the image in the form of shapes or patterns—instead, the audio signal controlled the cuts, and therefore the editing, of the video. This aspect of the Sequencer’s functionality fascinated me the most: The video editing did not happen in post-production through a series of careful decisions but instead took place based solely on the properties of the electronic signal.

The deep appreciation for real-time image and sound processing tools that was cultivated during my formative years as a student at Alfred University and resident at the ETC had an indelible impact on my artwork, and ultimately led to the decision to create The Nipulator electronic bra. I was inspired by the convergence of video and sound that the Jones Frame Buffer and Sequencer offered, the slight movements of the mouse that affected the real-time pitch shifting in Lowengard’s Harmonizer, and the immediacy, responsiveness, and potential for happy accidents that occurred when using these tools. But it was also their tactility and intrinsic corporeality— the monumental physical presence of their hardware in an increasingly digital world—that interested me. This appreciation led to the desire to not only use the tools but to embody the tool. Most of the technology I’d worked with had been authored by men. What did it mean to process my voice or a video of myself with a tool I had made?

The Nipulator was conceived in spring 2010 while I was a Master of Fine Arts candidate at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC). Experiments with DIY electronics began during graduate school, as I learned to solder, build a Karl Klomp “Dirty Video Mixer” [12], and work with microcontrollers. The concept for The Nipulator came serendipitously after observing the resemblance between a rotary potentiometer (an adjustable electrical resistor that may be operated by rotary motion) [13] and a human nipple. I purchased a beige, flesh-colored, padded bra from a department store, and with the assistance of classmate and friend Kyle Evans, the initial hardware design was developed. This original version of the wearable device included two potentiometers (simulating left and right “nipples”), which were sewn into the cups of the bra, then connected with stranded hookup wire to an Arduino Uno microcontroller that was sewn onto the side of the bra. The microcontroller connected via USB cable to a MacBook Pro laptop that was running Cycling ’74 software, a visual programming language for digital signal processing [14]. Evans programmed the first Cycling ’74 Max/ MSP patch I envisioned, which processed my voice in real time; the right “nipple” of the bra (nip)ulated the frequency of the audio signal, while the left “nipple” added reverb. Thus, the Freqshift/Reverb Audio Bra (the original title for the project) was created.

The first public performances for a live audience with the Freqshift/Reverb Audio Bra were at the Chicago Women of Noise Showcase (2010) and Chicago League of Lady Arm Wrestlers X (2011) events. I sang an intentionally grotesque and imperfect version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” in order to critique the patriarchal objectification of the female body in American popular culture, while subverting the spectacle of nationalism invoked by the ubiquitous performance of this problematic anthem. In Monica Panzarino Sings “The Star-Spangled Banner” (Fig. 4), I documented this performance in the form of a short single-channel video.

Also in 2011, I formed a collaborative audiovisual performance trio, Tit Band, with artists Emilie Crewe and Becky Grajeda. I constructed two new bras for Crewe and Grajeda, and, with the assistance of Kyle Evans, created a new Cycling ’74 Max/MSP/Jitter patch that processed prerecorded videos of each artist singing an improvised vocal technique called melisma, which is the singing of a single syllable of text while moving between several notes in succession [15]. With this new patch, the left “nipple” of the bras looped a section of the video and the right “nipple” controlled the speed of the loop, while adding reverb to the audio. The resulting experimental music and video performance poked fun at highly produced mainstream “boy” and “girl” bands of the 2000s like NSYNC and Destiny’s Child that overused the melisma singing technique unremittingly. Tit Band performed for a live audience in 2011 at two Strange Electronics: Realtime A/V and Hardware Hacking events in Chicago, organized by artists James Connolly and Kyle Evans. In Tit Band (Fig. 5), I documented our performance in another short single-channel video.

In 2014, a consultation with artists Cassandra Jackson, Harvey Moon, and Colin Parsons produced a wireless version of the electronic bra, which was renamed The Nipulator. This version (2.0) is still in use today. Though an earlier wireless prototype had been created in 2011 in collaboration with Moon for an interactive installation as part of my Master of Fine Arts thesis exhibition, The Nipulator 2.0 was an entirely new redesign of the bra’s hardware. The goals were to make this version more durable and comfortable to wear, as well as to increase mobility during performances, as the Freqshift/Reverb Audio Bra had tethered the performer to the laptop via the USB cable that connected to the Arduino Uno microcontroller. The Nipulator 2.0 included new Fender Telecaster→ chrome Dome knobs that fit over the potentiometers, which were larger and easier to maneuver during performances, and more visible to an audience (Fig. 6). The most significant update was the addition of a microcontroller hacked by Moon from a commercial DJ Hero music video game [16]. This new microcontroller communicated wire-lessly with the laptop via a proprietary USB dongle and was contained within a 3D-printed casing designed by Parsons, sewn to the side of the bra, which protected the delicate electronics from movement and perspiration. In 2021, Jackson substituted the original coin cell battery holder with 2 × AAA power, a modification that substantially increased battery life.

These hardware updates significantly improved The Nipulator’s functionality and aesthetic appeal. Although I’ve featured version 2.0 in several artworks since 2014, challenges with regard to design and durability remain. Each time the bra is taken on and off, the potential for breakage occurs. The intention with the 3D-printed casing was to contain the microcontroller; however, there are still exposed wires that cannot be tucked away. The DJ Hero microcontroller can be difficult to decipher, as it is not meant to be hacked and used for this purpose, which is problematic when wires break loose and must be reconnected. Issues surrounding battery life, ergonomics, and waterproofing are not uncommon with wearable technologies, in both commercial and noncommercial applications, and The Nipulator is no exception. The hardware and software will continue to evolve as technology evolves, and I expect updated versions to be forthcoming.

My work with The Nipulator, as well as other rare and historically significant real-time image processing tools, continued after graduate school at SAIC, during artist residencies at Signal Culture in Owego, New York, and the Institute for Electronic Arts in Alfred, New York. In Mammaries (Fig. 7), a single-channel video created during an artist’s residency at Signal Culture, I sang Barbra Streisand’s 1973 hit single “The Way We Were” for the camera while wearing my electronic bra, and (nip)ulating my voice in real time. In this piece, two angles of the performance were shown: one directly from the camera, and the second processed with Signal Culture’s Raster Manipulation Unit (aka “Wobbulator”), a modified cathode ray tube (CRT) television that was popularized by Nam June Paik in 1968 [17]. Signal Culture’s Wobbulator was built in 2014 by the organization’s co-founder, Jason Bernagozzi, intern Robert Hoffman, and Dave Jones [18]. Mammaries allowed the viewer to see both the processed and unprocessed images simultaneously within the same frame, again calling attention to the production of the piece rather than attempting to mask it.

As a cisgender, feminine-presenting, queer woman with big breasts, I have experienced countless instances of sexism, sexual harassment, and other forms of degradation over the course of my lifetime. These experiences began at a young age and coincided with a youth spent watching women’s bodies being objectified onscreen in movies, broadcast television, music videos, and advertising (where bodies/sexuality are often used to sell products). I came of age during the 1980s and 1990s, a time when the concept of body positivity had not yet been widely accepted, and unrealistic, toxic, heteronormative, homogeneous beauty standards dominated mass media. All of this contributed to my desire to address what feminist film theorist Laura Mulvey frames as the patriarchal male gaze in her 1975 essay Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema:

Focusing on process and featuring the making of the artwork for the audience is one of the primary objectives of The Nipulator electronic bra—the viewer watches me interact with the potentiometers and sees the decisions I make about the piece in real time (most often within one take and without post-production editing), thus breaking some of the illusionistic cinematic codes Mulvey refers to in her essay. By taking a visibly active (rather than passive) role within the artwork, I aim to subvert the power of the male gaze through asserting control over the (nip)ulation of the image and sound, and therefore, how I am perceived. Drawing attention to the breasts, and twisting the oversized simulated nipples acknowledges the absurdity of the objectification of the female body in moving image media, as well as in daily life. It also speaks more generally to my own complicated relationship with inhabiting a human body and being perceived by men as an object of desire. In my work, I attempt to synergize my interest in the more formal and technical aspects of real-time image and sound processing (a field pioneered in the 1960s and ’70s by the Vasulkas among others, and still practiced today by abstract video artists using synthesis, feedback, glitch, etc.), with a more postmodern, feminist approach that is concerned with issues surrounding representation, gender, and sexuality.

Another well-known electronic artwork that draws attention to the breasts is Nam June Paik and Charlotte Moorman’s TV Bra for Living Sculpture (1969). The parallels between The Nipulator and TV Bra for Living Sculpture are undeniable, yet there are some fundamental differences between the two works. Paik’s bra employed two small tube televisions encased in plexiglass, one for each breast, which were fastened to Moorman’s body by wide, transparent vinyl straps and safety pins. TV Bra could play videotapes and closed-circuit or broadcast television and modulate the television images based on the “abstract sounds” Moorman played with her cello [20]. Both TV Bra and The Nipulator use electronics, audio/video, and a female performer to challenge the notion of what a bra can be in a way that is meant to be a bit humorous, absurd, and shocking. But while Paik’s bra mostly centered around displaying images via the dual televisions, The Nipulator functions more as an instrument for real-time image and sound processing and focuses on the potentiometers (or knobs) and their relationship to the human body. TV Bra was heavy to wear and generated heat as well as radiation (which may have contributed to Moorman becoming sick with breast cancer) [21], while The Nipulator is relatively light, comfortable, and safe to perform with. The most obvious difference is that TV Bra was designed by a man for a woman’s body while The Nipulator is a decidedly feminist piece that was created by a woman and meant in part to critique the representation of women’s bodies in art, mass media, and popular culture.

Like Paik, I have an interest in “humanizing” technology. For me, embodying the real-time image and sound processing tool has meant “femme-ing” the technology to a certain extent. The use of tools and machines is often presented as inherently masculine in advertising (Home Depot commercials and the like) while The Nipulator is distinctly feminine. Image processing tools I had used at Alfred University and the ETC were constructed of hard materials like metal and plastic, and had hard angles, while The Nipulator is (largely) soft and curvy. This gender-bending of the technology extends to my voice as well, in that the frequency-shifting of the audio signal (nip)ulates the sound of my voice from low to very high pitched. In addition, choosing to include large Fender Telecaster→ chrome Dome “nipples” fetishizes the physicality of the knob, an antiquated interface and symbol of an analog past that is swiftly being rendered obsolete by digital touchscreens in consumer electronic devices. This concern with obsolescence in my work applies more generally to the analog technologies like CRT televisions, camcorders, VHS tapes, and record/playback decks I collect and use in my studio. While it is true that videotape degrades over time, most of these technologies still function and will continue to work as long as humans decide to service them. It is the consumer market and corporations that determine which technologies are “obsolete” and which have inherent value, based on their profit motives.

Created during my residency at the Institute for Electronic Arts at Alfred University, Four-Minute Romp Through Alfred’s Sandin Image Processor (Fig. 8) pays homage to Dan Sandin’s classic 1973 video Five-minute Romp through the IP. In his piece, Sandin is seen demoing the Image Processor (IP), the modular analog video synthesizer he built the same year and encouraged artists to copy in his Distribution Religion manifesto [22]. In my homage, I revisit the collaborative electronic music that I made with Laura Payeur while we were undergraduate students at Alfred University in 2002 by processing one of our songs, breaking beat breaker, through Alfred’s IP, then chroma-keying the audio reactive effects produced by the synthesizer onto my green screen–colored nails. The resulting array of colorful images and patterns merge video art with nail art, again “femme-ing” the experience of the technology. In Four-Minute Romp Through Alfred’s Sandin Image Processor, I wear my hand-knit recreation of the unusual hat Sandin sports in Five-minute Romp. There are very few functioning Sandin Image Processors in use today and I have used three: at Alfred University, ETC, and SAIC. I consider this a great privilege, and an experience I wanted to document on video.

I am very fortunate to have worked with such a wide variety of remarkable tools and systems over the course of my artistic practice, and grateful to the people and institutions that are committed to their preservation and accessibility.

Thank you Kyle Evans, Cassandra Jackson, Harvey Moon, Colin Parsons, and Jonah Rosenberg for your assistance with The Nipulator—without your generosity and ingenuity this project would not have been possible. Many thanks to the artist residency programs that have supported the production of my work: Experimental Television Center, Institute for Electronic Arts, Outpost Artists Resources, and Signal Culture. I am deeply grateful to my parents, Mica McCann and Anthony Panzarino, for their love and support, and to all the teachers, mentors, and friends who have encouraged my creativity through the years. Heartfelt thanks to co-editor of this special section, Helena Shaskevich, for the invitation to contribute, as well as to co-editor Adam Hart, the anonymous peer reviewers, and Leonardo’s editorial board.