14th november 2002 this week i have mostly been doing some modern web art Here's the drill: look at the art here and here, then read the following - you must look at the art first otherwise the following will make no sense, or at least less sense.
space The idea behind this piece is the pure space that surrounds us unnoticed. We see a blank space - seemingly empty - but the browser gives us scroll bars. Moving around the page shows that there is something present, more blankness. But this is blankness that exists. Stored on a web server somewhere, downloaded by your computer, loaded into ram and displayed on screen. We do not perceive the space on the web server, or the space in our computer, but when we explore something that embodies these limits a new train of thought is begun. Where is the end of my screen? Can I see the infinite with the aid of scroll bars? If this page takes up 2kb of disk space, how much nothingness can fit on 60Gb? What is this intangible space I see? Computers expand the space for data in the world by storing data in increasingly small amounts of space, but this expansion will not be maximised until individual atoms are used as memory... only then can we use all matter in the universe, and therefore all space, to its fullest. By maximising in this way our universe will appear much bigger as we make full use of this pure space around us. Our computational potential will be near limitless and a spec of dust will contain all the information humanity has accumulated thus far. The only form present in the space is some hidden text. It is in black on the black background, thus only becoming visible to those intrepid enough to stumble across it and highlight it. In many ways this may be the future of all information, feeling, ideas, thoughts and life in our expanded universe. Lost in the multiverse, preserved for ever but seen by none.
lights A re-working, and sly critique, of the Turner Prize winning "light going on and off". We see darkness, but are told the light is on. The light goes off, but the room becomes visible. Why? The text is questioning our innate assumptions about how the world works, our use of conventions and language in everyday situations. More than this it illustrates the ultimate pointlessness of the original piece. By making nonsensical statements the piece becomes an item of ridicule, and the idea that this light means anything to us (if this feeling was even present to begin with) disappears.
the
punch line So there's this weeks art. What worries me is this: both these things took the effort of at least several minutes. Both are crap. But, when reading the accompanying text I'm sure that many of you will have started thinking "yes, I see, an ultimate question of metaphysics pithily described by a mere 2kb of web page..." This is not an effort to imply that my words are great, or that you are stupid, but an attempt to illustrate the feelings I've gained about modern art after my last visit to the Tate Modern. Not everything there is rubbish, but there are so many pieces that look awful, and on examination don't present any discernable meaning (either the pieces are obtuse or I'm stupid), but then you read the accompanying text and suddenly have a strange feeling that the piece was actually quite good. If something is going to be a visual art then why should words be required to explain it? Expand on it, talk around it by all means. But words that are required to make any sense of it at all? If you want to write, go and be a writer. At the very least make the writing a more integral part of the work. What
also worries me is that after reading about my work I'm starting to quite like
it... < back to words etc. > | |