my safe space
Living in the inbetween of the 90s boom and eventual late 2000s crash, the memory of what the internet lost burns bright. Angelfire sites and Geocities were the major archives of what used to be and no longer is.
I coded this website as a part of my project which is hosted on one of its pages. It serves as a facsimile, a blurry memory and thus haphazard reconstruction of what has ceased existing. This is a celebration but more importantly, it is my celebration.
sign the guestbook! ^ u ^
JUST TELL ME TO SHUT UP!
Sometimes, someone who gets easily overwhelms then becomes an overwhelming force to communicate with.
Communication can become a flurry of nonsense, but between that nonsense, there is also a disturbing clarity— like listening to a friend you usually tune out discuss a serious topic in such a way that divulges exactly enough for one to understand what they’re saying, but so little that the imagination takes control of the other's narrative.
While one person may be hearing white noise, the other is elated to simply be talking. The overwhelming paranoia is coupled with a warming, increasingly desperate urge to possess. With distracting elements and illegible structures, the risk of “failing” an interaction is just as high with “succeeding” in a conversation.
please stop staring at me!!
The answer is panic and paranoia.
Being viewed as an object, being verified as existing is a horrific experience to me. To be seen so much by so many all the time incites nerves, makes me tense— and also forces me to put my emotions into a piece that mimics the same thing.
The gaze always crops up. Coy gazes, gazes of desire, of possession, dehumanisation. How an artwork is consumed and consumes. I wondered about the confrontation of gazes and how I personally view looking and looking upon.