Category Archives: seaShells

a box full of music, rose petals and seaShells

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last night i found a box in the basement, a treasure

as much as Marco and i buckled under the legal pressures brought on by our contractual relationship to XeXeX | OBLiViON back in the ’90s and stopped recording our beware the haberdash material on carefully planned, sequential schedule — we did move forward in our secret underground recording studio to capture that haberdash magic on tape to create a veritable bucketful of bootleggy sounds

only select tracks made it to any official releases over the years, however, as litigation got rather nasty and we both chose to focus on the positive experience of making music over fighting against ‘The Man’ every step of the way to merely preserve this rather eclectic and strange post-deathmen project we both still treasure to this day

so here you have it — the visually-designed artifactual remains of the overarching master gameplan for every pre-Sewingbox beware the haberdash release as envisioned and begun back in the late 1990s / early 2000s

re:Birth of the subConch

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as i slowly begin writing again recently — with my reawaking, too, to research mysterious areas of our modern social lives that quite naturally pique my curiosity — i realize i am attempting to build better awareness around these investigations while simultaneously delving back into my own subConscous self

walk on the beach with me

we’ll pretend its warm outside, but the water still freezes our feet as it rushes around our toes with foamy salutation and then flows back with a sizzle across the sand and back out to sea

which one of these, which subConch is mine? i can’t remember, i’m not sure it matters — in some ways, i feel, we seem to share the same semi-connected dreams through these strangely delightful containers

i found one

i like to look inside, inside the opening — it shines with a salty smoothness, this miraculous chamber, this subConch

how long did it take for the ocean to create the cold whites and pinks, the ridges and curling porcelain interior

its strange, but these shells remain clear inside, there never seems to be any ocean water remains to slosh around — never any small pebbles, no sand or seaweed

where can this seashell take me? where do i belong?

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further investigations

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“Computers may not only help us to understand the structure of ideas, the nature of intellectual processes, as Licklider hoped, but they may very well change these very processes and the way we think.”

from Cyborg as Cyberbody
Christiane Paul
Artlab23

http://www.ekac.org/artlab23.html

 

The Sea is Calling

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If you haven’t guessed by now I’m only a little peeved that Royal Carribean International completely stole my idea for the shellPhone in their lame-ass marketing efforts as seen on TV, posters, the web — its, like, everywhere at this point, right?

Which is kind of funny, kind of not.

Which is what my work is all about anyway.

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But seriously folks … my ridiculous shellphone intervention performance pieces, as totally silly and cheesy as they might be / might’ve been, implemented the same visual metaphor of shell as mobile device, just not as a freaking Facebook campaign to sell cruiseline tickets. As humorous and obvious as the metaphor may be, I mean we all have a tiny shell-like structure inside our ear called the cochlea ( see image below ), so the idea that a shellphone would output audio and the cochlea would then capture that audio signal totally makes sense, right? Well, as obvious as it is, and as much as my guerilla intervention performances aimed to create humor, my intention was to do a bit of a litmus test with the general public.

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By walking around with a semi-prototyped shellphone in very public places like: The Mall, CVS, downtown Newburyport, Boylston Street in Boston — I captured quick video samples of the people on the street. We’re at a point right now where mobile technology is ubiquitous, and although the general netiquette of these devices as they pertain to our realSpace interactions isn’t quite all ironed out to-date, most people zone out the incessant stream of telephonic babble going on all around them on a continual basis.

More on the shellPhone after these messages …

objects of desire

the semester is over, you may go in peace

summers here + the time is right to go drinking in the street

analysis of the internationally still infamous Surrealist film ‘Un Chien Andalou’ … with a bit of simple subcutaneous research into concepts behind the storytelling … reveal some interesting insights into the fetish objects ofttimes automatically rendered through the lucid daydream creativities of the mad genius revolution started in the early 1930s

those familiar with the principle character, the ‘Chien’ himself, + the delightfully strange cinematic sequences of the film as they unravel + peel away, will recognize this satirical modernization of the classic Dalinian swarm of ants within the palm of the hand

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i call my cyberSurreal iPhone automatic app suggestion ‘formis Andalou’ in homage to the original … Dalí affords the presence of ants special symbollic meaning … ‘ants point to death, decay, and immense sexual desire’ … from my previous research the inference is multivariate + deep + actually suggests a sort of societal decay

watching the passage from ‘Un Chien Andalou’ … the man + woman standing + staring into the palm of his hand … mysteriously mesmerized by the vision of these ants as they run in + out of a stigmata-like opening in the center of his palm … as a living, breathing witness of incessant + neverending myriad similar watchers, similarly hypnotized fiends visually engaged with all that dances in the palm of their hands … well, i cannot help but ask about the data that plays within these, our daily apps … ants, data, information … the device itself, perhaps this is the hole … our own informatic stigmata allowing this newfound, willingly self-afflicted weapon of our own societal decay … Dalinian ants reborn again as the very data that makes us dance around like ants in our own unstoppable puppetshow afterlife … we follow the data … we watch + check + cannot help but come back + gently stroke our shiny, beloved touch-interface objects of desire { thank you to Toby Bottorf for this brilliant description, the way we touch our device }

i am certain Buñuel + Dalí were not attempting to peer into the future … no, no … their purpose, as was the primary goal of much of the original Surrealist movement, was to explore the subconscious … to create a dreamlike expression of the Freudian worlds within us all … and perhaps, in doing so, unintentionally reveal some of the Jungian collective unconscious pertaining to our timeless existence

interviews with Buñuel helped decipher the metaphor of the diagonally-striped box … a box first carried by the bicyclist … a disembodied hand is placed into the box … later, the fashion remains of the deceased bicyclist are taken from the box … and from the fashion remains the female heroine of ‘Un Chien Andalou’ is able to bring our anti-hero back to life … she literally reanimates the man, the fiend

Buñuel calls the striped box an ‘object of desire’ … + many of the poetic objects imagined + realized by the Surrealists played with sexual tension + in some respects our inescapable human condition … our new ‘objects of desire’ are the machines … not the machines glorified by the original Futurists … not the automobile or steam engine … not at all … instead, our modernday equivalent to the striped box, to the ants in our hand … our machines, our ‘objects of desire’ are the computer, the laptop, the mobile device, the electronic reader … the ants go in + out … ‘death, decay, and immense sexual desire’

i wouldn’t say that the desire is directly sexual … but it can truly be addicitive … our need to phsyically interact with data becomes very obsessive-compulsive … i see it everyday … the most crowded room filled with the most amazing, intelligent + engaging people can become an instant information graveyard of stonefaced data-retrieval meatware … a ring, a buzz, all screens come out + suddenly the socialSpace we all exist in is swept away, everyone whisked into email, text, tweet + feed … the data rules supreme … + the desire itself, this is opportunity … the promise of a quick, witty message … maybe messages that will lead to an interesting conversation a few hours down the road … as most of us earn our living off from the new information economy, its difficult to not think of every ant as some new opportunity, some new chance … chance though that is far different from the joy of random, automatic expression through parlor games + madcap theatricality … chance that is totally unrelated to Duchamp + his chance procedure, a sort of zenlike appreciation for what destiny might bring your way … how unCagian is this new chance, this new chance is far less playful, utterly unSurreal …

i hope i am wrong … that my train of thought stops soon at the very next station up ahead

i truly hope that the word i am about to change, that our ‘objects of desire’ … that this chance, as i was about to say … well, it feels a bit desperate … our interaction with the data, with our technologies … its all flipped now at this point, hasn’t it?

the information, the data, the tools, the technologies … well, we originally created it to use … for the betterment of our human condition, right? to improve our standard of living … to help make the world light + playful + free … this was the original intention … the 1950s vision of what our technology could bring to humanity

but this addictive behavior … our relationship to our technologies … and our changing relationship with each other … there is something of desperation in it all from what i can sense + see

i need to sleep on this for now … get away from the monitor myself for a bit, right? after all, i might be writing more about myself, observations about myself, my own inner psychology + my own conflicts than about the universal change that might be going on in the world … maybe i’m imagining it all … maybe i’m putting more into what i think i see in my daily life { but i honestly don’t think so … which completely scares me } … yes, yes, for now i will go to sleep … but these are the thoughts i am left with after another year of research into cyberSurrealism … after a year of discovering what my personal motivations might be in wanting to explore the cybernetic + the Surreal … as Toby also pointed out, in a very Carlinesque sort of way actually, the material is all already there … i just need to point it out to people … to report on the state of things per se … to nurture a better awareness + live somewhere between … to mistrust things just enough + report on my experience

this is my story

these are my dreams