Reviewed in Postmodern Culture, The New York Times Book Review, the Washington Post, Modern Fiction Studies (MFS), and The London Independent, among many others, my work has been exhibited/published internationally including Eastgate, The Iowa Review Web, Blue Moon Review, Sao Paulo Biennial, School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Institute for Contemporary Art New Orleans, San Antonio Art Institute, P.P.O.W., St. Martin's Press, E.P. Dutton, SITE, The Los Angeles Institute for Contemporary Art, Heller Gallery at the University of California at Berkeley, the National Library of Madrid, Istanbul Contemporary Art Museum, The Houston Center for Photography, the Cleveland Institute of Art, Heresies, Seal Press, Franklin Furnace, Visual Studies Workshop, San Francisco Art Institute, Springer-Verlag, Tanam Press, Tisch School of the Arts, MIT Press, Target Video, FLEFF, San Francisco Center for the Book, the Richmond Art Center, and the National Endowment for the Arts website.

As an arts journalist and arts advocate, I have worked most notably as Editor of NYFA Current (formerly Arts Wire Current) an Internet-based National journal on social, economic, philosophical, and political issues affecting the arts and culture, sponsored by The New York Foundation for the Arts. I am currently the director of Art California, a web portal to the art and artists of California.

A pioneer on the Internet and in electronic literature, I wrote and programmed Uncle Roger, (Art Com, 1986) one of the first hyperfictions and in the ensuing years created a series of innovative literary works that run on computer platforms and were published by Eastgate and on the Internet. In 1993, I was invited to Xerox PARC where I worked in CSL (Computer Science Laboratory) as the first artist in their artist-in-residence program. In 1994, I created one of the first arts websites, Making Art Online, originally commissioned in collaboration with the ANIMA site in Vancouver (CSIR/Western Front) and currently hosted on the website of the Walker Art Center.

My grandmother Ethel Hazen Lillard, (Smith College, class of 1904; wife of W. Huston Lillard, educator, United Nations refugee worker) her mother, Harriet Hurleburt Hazen (wife of John Vose Hazen, a professor of Engineering at Dartmouth), my mother, Barbara Lillard Powers, and me.

Judy Malloy is a poet who works at the conjunction
of hypernarrative, magic realism, and information art

I have also been instrumental in making the arts an integral part of the Internet. I founded the Arts Conference on the WELL, was the initial consultant for the Internet Yellow Pages, was a founding editor of the seminal Leonardo Electronic News, (which became Leonardo Electronic Almanac) introduced art students to the Internet in a series of summer workshops in the early 90's, was an initial consultant for Open Studio, and taught web design at the San Francisco Art Institute as a visiting faculty member. For over ten years I worked with Arts Wire and the New York Foundation for the Arts to bring artists, arts organizations, arts news, and art information onto the Internet. In 2003, I edited an MIT Press book on women who work in new media.

My work looks at society in multiple ways -- ranging from the bawdy feminist take on office politics in 500 3X5 Cards and Other Stories to the poetic sorrow expressed in Ask for Sanctuary. For all societies -- from ancient Greek to contemporary times -- the freedom to make art in such diverse ways is of primary importance in the creation of vibrant and lasting cultures.

Ideally, print literature and e-literature; sequential literature and hyperfiction; painting and new media; are parallel art forms where writers in each medium understand each other's vision and, as between poetry and fiction, sometimes move with ease between the mediums.

Early Years

Conceived in Texas where my Father was stationed in 1941, I was born Judith Ann Powers in Boston, MA on January 9, 1942, about one month after Pearl Harbor.

Texas, 1941 - the 211th Coast Artillery Anti-Aircraft

During the war, following my father before he went to fight on the European front, we lived in North Carolina, in Crockett, California, and then, while my father took part in the invasion of Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge, my mother and I lived with her parents W. Huston Lillard and Ethel Lillard in the seashore town of Cohasset, Massachusetts. When my father came home from the war, we moved to Winchester, Massachusetts. The Boston and Maine Railroad ran beside our back yard, and on the other side of the tracks was the Aberjona River, the same river that polluted by WR Grace chemical company in neighboring Woburn, figures in A Civil Action.

My father and mother Barbara Lillard Powers and W. Langdon Powers

My Father, Wilbur Langdon "Ike" Powers

My father played football and hockey for Dartmouth and was on a Boston hockey team. Before he was wounded, he landed on the beaches of Normandy in the D-Day invasion, and he fought on the European front.

Home from the War, every evening he read the Odyssey and the Iliad to my brother and me. He was a trial lawyer as well as Assistant District Attorney, Middlesex County, MA; Assistant District Attorney, Suffolk County, MA; and Chief Assistant U.S. Attorney for Massachusetts.

I still have a Bible that I received as a prize for telling a Bible story at summer camp in the Berkshires.

Some of the happiest moments I remember are the times I spent with my best friend Christie and her family. We both were artists, and we went on painting expeditions together, painting the ocean and harbors on the Cape. Her father was an MIT physics professor of German descent, who worked on radar for the US and England during World War II.

My mother, who had been a chauffer for composer Nadia Boulanger after she graduated from Radcliffe, became a newspaper editor. She was author of an award-wining series of articles in support of a program that gave African American inner city children the opportunity to attend suburban schools. Later she was Editor of the Somerville Journal, and then Managing Editor of the Somerville Journal; the Cambridge Chronicle; and the Watertown Press.

My grandfather, educator Walter Huston Lillard. After World War II, he served with the United Nations in Vienna as Chief of the Resettlement Division of the International Refugee Organization in Austria. (the photo is from Courage on the Danube by W. Huston Lillard)

As Chief of the Resettlement Division of the International Refugee Organization in Austria. He helped resettle many thousands of refugees from Poland, Hungary, Russia, Greece, Spain and many other places, including and "Volksdeutsche" Christians from Russia, Yugoslavia, Rumania, and Bulgaria who refused to accept Communism, and thousands of Jewish refugees on their way to Israel.

In the early 1930's, "Cappy", who had been an educator, the head coach of the Dartmouth Football Team, and an advocate for American football, went to Germany when one of his friends in the German academic world was imprisoned. He contacted Himmler's office and after a visit to Magdeburg with an SS driver and 'escort' was instrumental in securing his friends release.

I don't remember exactly when the troubles began. They were not as frequent at this time in my life. But I remember these things: when I was a child, the door of our family car flew open going around a curve, and I (in the back seat) was thrown out in the middle of a downtown street. There was an oak tree at the bottom of a steep hill near my home, and three or four times I lost control of my bicycle and crashed into it. I remember this particularly because it did not seem like something I was doing, and it always happened at the same place, and it was always my left elbow that was injured. On a ski trip in high school, my car got stuck on a railroad tracks; I was able to get it off just before the train came.

I wanted to work in the arts, but no one would hire me, so I went to work at the Library of Congress. Washington, DC was exciting. I remember embassy parties, tennis with a Navy cadet, painting, museums, my apartment near Dupont Circle furnished with orange crates, my first car, a 1949 Plymouth. It died in a middle lane on the New Jersey Turnpike when it blew a plug in the water system. I managed to get it the side of the road, was told it was not fixable, sold it for (I think) $25.00 to the garage and then took the bus to New York City where I had been headed.

In 1965, I fell in love with Jim Malloy. I met him in College Park, Maryland at an electromagnetic research laboratory where a blue vacuum chamber simulated the "D" layer of silence, the place where communications are lost. I was writing abstracts and organizing technical literature.

Born and raised in West Virginia, where his Father was a Union man working for Union Carbide, Jim was third or fourth generation Irish. He had worked with vacuum technology at Westinghouse.

my passport photo

The Riviera - 1967 or 68

1964 (at Middlebury College)

It began on a rocky road -- one in which for many years I worked at odd jobs to support myself. They included catalog editor for the Library of Congress, information retrieval for Ball Brothers Research Corporation in Boulder, Colorado, (a NASA contractor that made the Orbiting Solar Observatory) as well as information jobs for J. Walter Thompson (on a contract for the Goddard Space Center) and in phytopathology at the University of California. In the course of this work, I did information retrieval, learned programming languages, and studied systems analysis and design.

Initially, there was no relationship between these jobs and the work that I created in my studio, but gradually the imagery of technology and the idea of information as imagery began to seep into my work.

with Jim Malloy in Nurnberg, Germany

Perhaps it would have made more sense to go to Canada, but with motorbikes, a tent, and a small amount of money, Jim and I went to Europe on a German freighter. It was the sixties, that is one explanation; another is that, although Jim was not against the draft, he was against the Vietnam War which he had studied extensively, and he had written a detailed letter to then Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara protesting this country's involvement in the Vietnam War.

The adventure was not without difficulties. In Washington, D.C., right before we left, Jim was following me home when his motorcycle brakes inexplicably failed. He crashed into the back of a car I was driving, severely injuring his face.

In Germany, almost all of our money disappeared. It was not the first time this happened, nor was it the last. Once my money disappeared in Washington, DC and reappeared in a book in a locker in the Dallas airport. But when this happened in Germany, it was disastrous. We were alone in a foreign country with no money. It was late fall, cold. One night we slept in the bushes outside the Frankfurt train station, and I remember the fear when a guard went around the station, shining a flashlight into the bushes.

We ate the powdered soup and bread that remained in our backpacks. By coasting down the mountain pass to preserve gas, we managed to make it to Florence, where we were expecting our final paychecks. Initially American Express would not give us our mail, perhaps because we looked so disreputable. In our tent in the hills above Florence, I put on a suit that my grandmother had bought me in Peck & Pecks in Boston and (Boston culture) I had carried with me all the way. Then I went back to American Express and was able to get our mail and money.

A few weeks later, while we were camping on a beach on the Italian coast, Jim received a draft notice, forwarded from West Virginia to the American Express office.

We did not have the money to buy return tickets. Jim wrote the Army and was told to report to duty as soon as he could. There were no jobs in Italy, so we sold our motorbikes and went back to Germany. First I worked as a maid and then in a cafeteria. Jim drove a forklift. It was winter, but we saved the money to return home by living in a tent on an island in the Rhine. There were other expatriates at that campground. We made friends and told stories around the campfire at night. A British carpenter taught me how to play the guitar.

After basic training in Missouri and Louisiana, Jim, now a Private in the Army, was sent back to Germany, to William O. Darby Kaserne in Fürth. I joined him. I worked for an Army base library and lived in Dürerplatz in the old walled city of Nürnberg, near the home of the artist Albrecht Dürer. We explored the countryside in an ancient Volkswagon, went camping in the Alps and the Riviera, drank beer in outdoor cafes. We were married in Nürnberg in 1968.

I remember my return to Boston because two engines of the airplane failed in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. The plane made it back to England, where they put us up for the night. The next day, we were put back on the same plane. I got mono from the stress and lack of sleep and was very sick in the weeks before Jim and I drove an old Ford Falcon to West Virginia and then across the country to Colorado.

After his discharge, Jim worked as a micro-electronics and laser engineer. We lived in many places -- following the chip industry. They included Boulder, Colorado, the mountains of Colorado, Albuquerque, New Mexico, Massachusetts, and Northern California.

In Colorado, we lived first in a former pickle factory in Boulder and then in a cabin at 7,000 feet in the mountains where we could see the snow on the Continental Divide from our windows. Under the house was a cistern where water for household tasks was stored. In the winter, water froze on the pump at the spring where we got our drinking water. We plowed the access road ourselves with an old jeep or parked at the foot of the road and skied home up the hill. I studied creative writing at Extension, typed stories on an old typewriter, made art. I also learned to program in FORTRAN, organized technical information, and read technical literature to identify content relevant to research projects for NASA contractor Ball Brothers Research Corporation. At BBRC, I worked with Jose Villarreal, one of the pioneers of Chicano literature, who was BBRC's Technical Publications Supervisor. As a technical information specialist, I ran the BBRC Technical Library.

In Ipswich a series of accidents befell our young son that were difficult to deal with. Nevertheless, Ipswich is a beautiful seaside town, and I still remember beach trips with other parents and children; bicycling to the marshes and beaches to paint; gatherings and exhibitions with other artists; and greeting John Updike -- the way everyone else in town did -- on his walks to his downtime office. Once in a wild snowstorm, I passed him on the hill at night and said hello as we walked in opposite directions, and no one else in town was out.

In the seventies, we moved to Sunnyvale, CA and then to Oakland, where Jim and I were divorced. We are still friends. We share a belief in the importance of children and family. We are proud of our son, Sean Langdon Malloy, a professor of history, and our daughter-in-law, a professor of Latino studies, who is Latina/Korean.

California: Writer/Artist/Editor

In addition to being an artist, writer, and single parent, I was a Union activist and was instrumental in winning a departmental right to organize victory for AFSCME.

In 1989, Uncle Roger was mentioned as a new art form for the future in the centennial issue of The Wall Street Journal. (Michael Miller, "A Brave New World: Streams of 1s and 0s", June 1989) Later that year, my hyperfiction its name was Penelope was included in the exhibition Revealing Conversations at the Richmond Art Center. its name was Penelope was published by Eastgate in 1993. As an artist-in-residence at Xerox PARC in Palo Alto, I developed Brown House Kitchen, an innovative online narrative.

In 1993, I began working for Arts Wire, an online communications system for the arts. Eventually, I became Network Coordinator for Arts Wire, and for eight years I edited Arts Wire Current, (that became NYFA Current) an Internet-based National journal on social, economic, philosophical, and political issues affecting the arts and culture, sponsored by The New York Foundation for the Arts. I have also been an Editor for Leonardo and Leonardo Electronic News. A book I conceived and edited on Women, Art & Technology was published by MIT Press. It has been called an essential reference by many reviewers.

During this period of my life, I was run down twice.

In Berkeley, at the time that I was union activist and was working on the Super Lucy performances, a station wagon ran into me while I was on a moped and stopped at a stop sign. The bike was crushed. I was thrown to the street and bounced on my head. I saw the wheels of a car about to run me over. I thought I was dead. The people who saw the accident were amazed when I stood up; they also had thought I was dead.

In the ensuing years, while I was working on the OK Genetic Engineering project that asked critical questions about the Genetic Engineering industry, I had severe disc problems and back pain. I remember sitting at my desk crying because the pain was so bad. I almost died from a toxic shock reaction to a myelogram that the Doctor said was the worst he had ever seen.

I also remember, among other things, that the steering wheel on my car caught fire and burst into flames.

Then, on July 9, 1994, while I was working for Arts Wire and as a consultant/artist in residence for Xerox PARC on electronic literature and the document of the future, I was run down on Mill Avenue in Tempe, Arizona.

My leg was mashed. I had a severed artery, open fractures. (My leg was broken in 13 places.) In the ambulance, they told me they would have to take it off, but in the prison hospital where I was taken, they put it back together with extensive rods, pins, skin and muscle grafts and an arterial bypass.

The hardware began to break the following year. First it was a pin that had to be replaced. And then another pin broke, and the rod slipped painfully into my ankle and had to be replaced.

At about the time Viennese-born actress/inventor Hedy Lamarr died unexpectedly -- January, 2000 -- to take a break from working on a story on low power radio for Arts Wire Current, I went out to get a candy bar. I fell on a hill near where I live. The bottom of my femur sheared off and fell into my knee cap. It was dark. For quite a while no one came when I called, and I had to drag myself up the hill with a broken leg. In the hospital, I had to wait two days on morphine because no one on duty at the time could operate on my leg. The surgery was difficult because my leg was already such a mess.

Judy Malloy - El Sobrante, CA, 2009

I would like to go backpacking and write and paint in the mountains and to glide across the snow again on skis.

As always, I explore the creation of literature on computer systems, and I write about the lives of artists.

my leg ten years after I was run down;
and my green crutches

Concerned about surveillance, covert surveillance technologies, the impact of intrusive surveillance on the lives of artists, and some of the things that had happened in my own life as a poet and artist, in 2004, I realized that because of my extensive knowledge of the art world developed as editor of NYFA Current and my skills in technical literature searching, I had the knowledge and the tools to write about the impact of surveillance on the lives of civilians. Thus I began to research and write the work of narrative poetry Revelations of Secret Surveillance.

It would be nice if this part of my story ended when I was optimistic about getting some of my life back, when in late 2004, I even went cross country skiing for the first time since the original accident in 1994.

But on January 13, 2005, a few weeks after finishing the first draft of Revelations of Secret Surveillance, I took a very minor fall while cross country skiing near Donner Pass. The following day when I was out walking, I began to experience very severe pain. I found out that there was a bone chip in a tendon in my knee, and that it was possible that one of the rods in my leg was protruding a small amount into my knee cavity. Surgery was not recommended because of the complexity of the situation. I experienced severe waves of pain for 3 or 4 months.

• My mother Barbara Lillard Powers and my father W. Langdon Powers -- http://www.well.com/user/jmalloy/sanctuary/familyheroes.html

• My maternal grandfather was W. Huston Lillard, Dartmouth football coach, headmaster of Tabor Academy, post-WWII head of the Resettlement Division of the International Refugee Organization in Vienna. He grew up in Illinois and was of Lillard and Spencer descent. (Early settlers of Virginia and then Kentucky, the Lillards were French Huguenots, Scottish. The Spencers were English and originally settled in Virginia.) One of my Lillard ancestors, the Scottish woman warrior Maid Lilliard, was central in the defeat of the English at the Battle of Ancrum Muir in 1545, fighting the British despite the loss of both of her legs. According to some accounts, it was Maid Lilliard who killed the brutal English leader Sir Ralph Evers. In other accounts, she rallied the far outnumbered Scottish forces and inspired the ensuing victory over Henry VIII's army. There is a monument to Maid Lilliard at the Scottish Border town of Lilliards Edge. [1]

  My paternal grandfather, distinguished Boston lawyer Walter Powers, was related to the abolitionist sculptor Hiram Powers, whose powerful depiction of a Greek slave in the chains worn by African American slaves was an influential anti-slavery work.

  The first known Powers in my family and in this country was Walter Power(s) who was probably from an Irish Norman family in County Waterford, Ireland. He came to the Boston area in 1654. In 1661, he married Trial Shepherd, who was daughter of early Massachusetts English settlers Deacon Ralph Shepherd and Thankye Lord Shepherd, and the niece of Thomas Shepherd, one of the founders of Harvard University. It was not exactly the usual history of early American settlers because Walter Powers (who may have been an Irish indentured servant) is reported to have received 15 stripes in Cambridge in 1661 for premarital fornication with Trial Shepherd. Walter and Trial moved to the country, and their children are probably among the first children with an Irish parent, who were born in America. Other early Irish Americans in my family include the Annis family, who were among the ancestors of my paternal grandmother, Ethel Carver Powers.

  From Massachusetts and New Hampshire, the Powers, the Langdons, the Hazens, the Carvers fought the British in the Revolutionary War and on the side of the Union in the Civil War. A paternal great grandmother, Emeline White, was a descendent of Elder John White, who came to America in 1632 and was a founder of Cambridge and Hartford. A maternal great grandfather John Vose Hazen, a professor of engineering at Dartmouth, was a descendent of Stephen Webster, who fought for America in the Battle of Bunker Hill.

  My father, W. Langdon Powers, was called Langdon after Revolutionary War hero John Langdon, a signer of the Constitution, and three-term governor of New Hampshire. (I think the Langdons were related to my paternal grandmother)

  My son, history professor Sean L. Malloy, is the author of Atomic Tragedy: Henry L. Stimson and the Decision to Use the Bomb Against Japan.

  Three of my Aunts and Uncles were in the intelligence services. Two in the OSS and a woman who was in Naval Intelligence and was on the team that broke the Japanese codes. My great-uncle, art historian Richard Hubbard Howland,was a Washington section chief in the OSS during World War II. One of my uncles was a part of the initial management of the 10th Mountain Division that was responsible for the defeat of the Nazis in the Mountains of Italy. Another was a doctor for the Navy and later head of a division at NIH.

  My cousin, writer and bass guitarist Walter Powers, played with the Velvet Underground and The Lost.
  My cousin Ann Powers is an artist.

• Sayward H. Farnum, "The Five by Five", A History of the 555th
  Antiaircraft Artillery Automatic Weapons Battalion (Mobile), Boston,
  The Athenaeum Press, 1946
  Includes a description of Camp Hulen.
  

• Judy Malloy - home page

• Judy Malloy: Photographs -- http://www.well.com/user/jmalloy/judymalloy.html

• Judy Malloy: Family Photographs: Walter and Ethel Lillard, Barbara Lillard, Wilbur Langdon Powers, Walter and Ethel Powers-- http://www.well.com/user/jmalloy/sanctuary/family.html

• Judy Malloy: More Photographs -- http://www.well.com/user/jmalloy/morephotos.html

• Early Days in Hanover - http://www.well.com/user/jmalloy/hanover.html