In the beginning the impulse is to try and keep up. But just like the infamous I Love Lucy scene in which Lucy cannot keep pace with the chocolates on the assembly line and furiously begins stuffing them in her mouth, you start feeling likewise frenzied as you desperately try to read each letter on each screen before it is covered by the next that blooms in front of it.
Eventually, the futility of ever seeing the whole sinks in, and you merely surrender, allowing the text, sound and image to wash over you, trusting that you will get it on a level just below consciousness. You know you can never fully comprehend the various meanings you could associate with each screen, each window that opens onto yet another and another and another….
But this is not a passive pursuit: You choose what to look at. You choose where your eye goes, where it lingers, where it stubbornly refuses to play. It is not quite a pure flow, but a directed act of viewing.
If reading on the web tends toward an F pattern (Katherine Hayles), then this piece defies that tendency by activating various zones in no discernable pattern. One cannot read the F pattern way, looking only for headlines and losing interest as one moves down.
It’s about place, nostalgia, obsolescence, accretion and the heartbreak of being alive. Mostly though, Waves is less ABOUT place, nostalgia, obsolescence, accretion and the heartbreak of being alive. And more, the pieces IS place, nostalgia, obsolescence, accretion and the heartbreak of being alive.
Peppered with the thrill of being a scholar, an alt scholar, in the 21st century.