emmairwindesign

[emmairwindesign]

This piece of writing is a result of The Urgency Of The Arts module that took place at the Royal College of Art in 2023 for the School of Arts and Humanities. As a student on the writing program, I picked the theme of 'Liminal/Digital' hosted by Gareth Polmeer. I've titled the piece 'Stock Images are Disgusting', and aim to explain why in relation to the liminal/digital.

I need to speak to you urgently: implies that there’s some imminent catastrophe, an impending crisis that will impale us unless we act immediately. 

And yes, there is a certain urgency that we should attach to our actions. Unless we do something to address our concerns with the ever-growing pile of catastrophes occurring everyday on our planet, we enable them to continue on their paths of destruction. Before the Urgency of the Arts talks, I wrote an essay on the topic of slow-violence, based on the environmental crimes committed in Cancer Alley, Louisiana. It was good to hear from Hannah Chalew, as an artist practising within this territory. 

We experience everyday slow-horror; a creeping, incremental kind of daily destruction to the point it’s become normal, and I think Celia Pym called this subtly to our attention in her talk. She addressed it through the idea of repair. Her practice is concerned with mending, reparation and care. She explained that mending garments is a slow, laborious process, but it fundamentally distils to an act, and subsequently a habit, of care. It’s this plurality of care that caught my attention; for the individual, for the garment, and for the planet (as mending is a sustainable practice). It’s also a very real, true, and authentic practice - unlike the other examples I will share with you today.

Celia Pym, Norwegian Sweater, 2010

It has been brought to my attention that there’s an aesthetic opposite to this slow-practice. There is a more immediate, disgusting, aesthetic practice that was revealed to me this week. Hence the name of this short talk; stock images are disgusting. 

The level of disgust I felt peaked, and felt validated when a peer (Ophir) made it known to the group that Jon Rafman has accusations of sexual misconduct levelled against him, and his work was subsequently rejected by several galleries as a result. This has made me grateful for the aspects of group discussion we’ve experienced this week as part of Urgency of the Arts.

Punctured Sky, by Jon Rafman is a short film about an imagined video game. The protagonist is a gamer, and we experience the film through his first-person perspective, and we never see what he looks like. Discomfort and disgust were key elements in my experience of the film; the characters have animalistic facial features, they have pig snouts and cow ears. 

Jon Rafman , Punctured Sky, Joey Bernstein sat at his gamer table in the back of the mall, 2021

The film is concerned with gamer lifestyles, it depicts their messy desks littered with monster energy drink cans, vapes, ashes, food wrappers and unfinished meals. The friend in the film, Joey Bernstein, is severely obese and dies from stage four liver cancer, no doubt as a result of his poor lifestyle. One desk appeared to have water bottles that were filled with urine in order that the gamer didn’t have to leave the desk to urinate, another had a bottle of lotion next to used tissues, implying masturbation had occurred at the desk of the gamer. 

Jon Rafman , Punctured Sky, disgusting gamer desk, 2021

This perspective of gamer-lifestyles can be extrapolated beyond the gamerverse, towards a commentary on our relationship with technology. I believe Rafman’s choice to construct the entire film from what appeared to be stock images is a deliberate attempt to materialise our ‘flattening’ of ourselves and our existences into digital media. ‘Flattening’ may also be referred to as standardisation or “abstraction” as mentioned in the Eflux Journal ‘The Internet does not exist’. The ‘flattening’ I’m referring to is the compression of reality into the flattened dimensionality of the screen. Whether by documenting our lives on social media platforms, or spending vast amounts of time interacting with screens, the stock photo epitomises this aesthetic. It delocalizes the subject-matter, ripping the individual or object from their original context and in my opinion is the concentrated form of the internet’s un-truth.

Mismatched hands in the first-person perspective was particularly jarring for me; different images/footage of hands were used for driving a car to those that opened a laptop screen. The hands did not match, and they didn't match the feet that appeared out from the bottom of the bedsheets. I believe this speaks to the disembodiment that occurs as we upload more of ourselves to, and subsequently ‘download’ more aspects of our personalities and livelihoods from digital interactions. I felt discomfort, I felt disembodied, and I felt the protagonist was disembodied from himself, too. 

The stock images create and uphold this disgusting, disembodied, liminal space. 

Render Ghosts is an exploration by James Bridle into the stock-images of people that are utilised in architectural models. He says “The Render Ghosts are the people who live inside our imaginations, in the liminal space between the present and the future, the real and the virtual, the physical and the digital. A world of architecture, urbanism and the city before it is completed - which is also never.” These ‘render ghosts’ have become detached from their own identities. Bridle launched a project where he intended to track down the people he found in the photos, creating ‘missing person’ style posters with his contact details. The ‘missing’ people were the identities of the individuals depicted in the stock photos.

James Bridle, Render Ghosts/Render Search , Do you recognise these people poster, 2013

I suppose the main point I’m making here is we don’t know who, or what personalities are being invoked by turning people into stock photos. There’s a certain kind of person that simply shouldn’t be allowed to become a stock image, that shouldn’t be allowed to appear in architectural models. Who let this man be a stock photo?! (Show photo of trump).

Trump being used as a stock image, James Bridle, Render Ghosts, 2013

Disembodiment is dangerous, and I believe digitality is a perpetrator of this offence. 

But I also think that disgust, and stock photos can play a vital role in the commentary on our predicament, and sometimes this is achieved through humour. In the case I’m about to mention, it’s not problematic in the way Punctured Sky was, it’s a different kind of disgust that’s brought to us through the use of stock-photos. I’m thinking about UNHhhh, a comedy series by drag queens Trixie and Katya - the editing style is really meme-ified and jarring compared to regular, ‘unseen’ editing styles that are unnoticed, and aim to make a video smooth and consumable.

UNHhhh Episode 142, The Weather, 2020, WOW Productions

In an interview, editor Ron Hill says the style originated from “what can I do really quick with no resources?”, and quite often this results in large format text and stock images/videos added to the green-screen footage in a raw, cut-and-paste style. It can only be described as garish and kitsch, as they might be considered as poor aesthetic taste, but are appreciated in an ironic or knowing way. He describes it as “nonsensical photo montage comedy”.

UNHhhh Episode 142, The Weather, 2020, WOW Productions

I think this stock-photo raw garishness aligns perfectly with the context of drag. Drag usurps and comments on everything that is wrong with our cis-het society, and does so appropriately through comedy, in this vulgar, over the top, deliberately disgusting manner. But, that’s part of what makes it hilarious and brilliant. Susan sontag writes that “the essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration” She later explains that a key part of Camp is “artifice”; devices or expedients used to trick or deceive others. And I think we can classify stock images within this type of description, only they are not concealed - they are a clear acknowledgement of the deception and un-reality of drag. They allude to the performativity of the medium as expedients are “convenient but possibly improper or immoral”, and stock photos are, too. They are improper, disembodied, falsified representations of reality, and by ripping them from the web, they become immoral, as they are inauthentic. 

Sontag also references Bosch, along with Artaud, and comments that their goal is “not creating harmonies, but of overstraining the medium and introducing more and more violent and unresolvable subject matter”. I read Bosch’s Garden of Earthly delights as an early example of ‘flattening’, where the subjects/objects don’t have a seamless synergy with each other or their environment. There’s a discomfort attached to the invocation of multitudes of meaning, contexts and interactions that occur in this triptych.

Garden of Earthly Delights, Hieronymus Bosch, 1490-1510

Garden of Emoji delights by Carla Gannis, 2014

Things are not real, but not entirely unreal either, they become liminal; and as Sontag says, they are “violent and unsolvable”. In Punctured Sky it’s the slow-violence gamers commit against themselves, as we learned from the effects of Joey Bernstein’s lifestyle on his body, and from the disgusting, unhealthy traces that are left on the desks of the gamers. In UNHhhh, it’s the way that Katya is edited into a helicopter, on a satirical news-headline of a traffic assassin helicopter that shoots lasers and creates explosions on the street. In render ghosts, it’s the separation of personal image from identity, and allowing Donald Trump’s identity and personal connotations to ‘fill in’ for a ‘man in a suit’ stock photo, subsequently destroying the safety of the regular anonymity that is normally afforded in this context, by a regular stock-photo model. It’s the figure pooping coins, or the other being sodomised by a piece of fruit in The Garden of Earthly delights. It’s all the “violent and unsolvables”.

If I had more time to work on this piece, the Garden of Emoji Delights would segue into a discussion of memes, and possibly toxic masculinity in the online space. However memes aren’t something I’ve read enough, or know enough about to comment on at this time. 

But something I have noticed this week through the seminars, is that for most people this was an opening, or a continuing of a curiosity. I’d like to frame my experience as a form of closure on an idea I had several years ago.

Skeuomorphs from 2019/2020, images are my own.

I was looking at internet imagery (namely old desktop icons, skeuomorphs) and how the windows desktop icons were modelled on the layout of an office. I was trying to comment on the aesthetic of flattened images, and trying to link this to defining an aesthetic of internet imagery; asking “what do internet images look like?”. At the time I didn’t have the language to articulate this or find an answer. But like I said at the beginning, something fell into place when I watched Punctured Sky, and then a peer mentioned Rafman’s sexual offences. A thought fell into place where stock-images are in fact the internet - image - aesthetic I was searching for previously, and for some reason they disgust me. And so this week has been a catalyst for a previous thought I had, and has allowed me to write this short piece I didn’t have the experiences to compile a few years ago.

Bibliography:

https://www.reading design.org/render-ghosts

https://walkerart. org/magazine/keep-that-ron-and-jeff-the-editors-of-unhhhh-on-the-radical-transparency-of-comedy

Sontag, S. (2018) Notes on "camp". S.l.: Penguin.

Aranda, J., Wood, B. and Vidokle, A. (2015). The Internet does not exist. 1st ed. Berlin: Sternberg Press, p.8.

 Thom Davies (2018) Toxic Space and Time: Slow Violence, Necropolitics, and Petrochemical Pollution, Annals of the American Association of Geographers, 108:6, 1537-1553, DOI: 10.1080/24694452.2018.1470924

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

cover image generated using runway experiment generative engine. 

This story was written in 2019, after I dreamed it. Sticky Fingers Publishing printed the story in their FDBNHLLLTTFGROUNDLESSNESS issue in 2021 (I think?), they printed the story beautifully on a single strip of paper. You can find them here. I decided to put the story on my website with my other work, as it’s a different genre to what I normally write, but it explores the same territories (kind of). I hope you enjoy. 

I’ve been dreaming of the 5th dimension, where a space can exist within a space that does not  exist in three dimensions. Perhaps this is into the territory of parallel universes or...

A definite sense of being separate from the majority which is not fully understood, not until an  escape route (chute) is found; into a cleaner’s cupboard and down a toilet. Whether the toilet is  accessible/seen by others in questionable.

Bags must be placed into the chute first. Items must be placed one by one. Once in the chute, it’s  important to count, as each second in the chute equates to an hour in real time. Different chutes  take different lengths of time to ‘transport’ you. If a chute takes too long, you’re making yourself  more vulnerable and traceable by (authorities?)

(there are not necessarily space-time hunters/police, but the voids will eventually catch on if you’re able to swim too freely between them)

1: TOUR

A compulsory class/seminar/tour is taking place on the third floor of a building with cramped  corridors. The ‘swimmer’ detaches herself from the group. Not intentionally, but perhaps displays  detachment because the group is quite loud, boisterous, and more can be gained from the tour by  hanging back slightly, and observing from a quieter space. Just as the noise mounts to a point  where it is unbearable, silence is found in the mind of the ‘swimmer’. Instinctively she knows  where to go- she turns behind her, and walks down into a darker corridor, making a right turn by  the window ahead, and doubling back into the new corridor. Embedded into the cold, lacquered  plaster wall is a wooden door labelled ‘cleaner’s cupboard’. She persists. A key on her belt should  fit, she places it into the lock, turns, and with a creak of the opening door she’s in.

High shelves of products, brown walls, and mops leaning up at an angle block the back wall and  toilet at the back of the cupboard. She locks the door behind her with a slow click. She knows  better than allowing herself to be followed, or swimming and leaving puddles(traces) behind her.  “Perhaps that’s why there’s so many mops in here” she chuckles to herself. She steps through,  pushing the mops away with her forearm, and looks down at the toilet bowl, with a full  understanding of what she’s about to do.

Sometimes the swims are brought on by the need to go somewhere. Perhaps a swimmer knows  the route or is visiting* someone. Rarely does a swimmer find themselves ‘stuck’ where it’s  impossible to go back, but once visited, there are some dimensions which are better left in their  last state of play**…

…reminding herself that swims should not be started unnecessarily, and should always have a  reason or provocation, she straddles the toilet, one foot placed on each edge of the toilet seat.  Hovering above it, she loads her first bag into the toilet bowl. It waits for a brief moment, before  the toilet bowl dilates, sucks, and swallows it whole. She then removes her backpack, and it  thuds heavily into the ceramic bowl before it again dilates, sucks, and swallows the large bag.  Next, she steps with one foot, and then the other until they are side by side in the bottom of the  bowl. She takes a deep breath and holds it before she is submerged into the deep. The bowl  dilates, sucks, and swallows her.

It’s black.

She counts: one, two, three, four, five, six seven…

As she’s counting, time seems to have sped up inside her head. The count is human-speed, one  number per life-second, but her thoughts have accelerated.

This portal is a safe one, there were no warning or signs about it being compromised. There’s  always a level of anxiety attached to swimming in chutes because you’re travelling vertically.  Through the deep and into a new physical space. Conscious time is also interfered with during  this travel meaning thoughts can operate considerably faster or slower than ‘real’ time, hence the  need to count aloud so you always know how long you’ve been under water. She focused when  she dived, and knows she is focused, so should be fine on this swim. She has a memory of a  future swim where she distracted herself in a chute and thought about physical swimming (as  opposed to dimensional swimming) and managed to dimensionally swim though a physical  swimming pool and decked out into Prague’s city centre fully clothed and dripping wet.

How adjusting her mental thoughts affected her dimensional swim she wants to know, but won’t  find out for a while. Perhaps the chute’s route has multiple lanes that swim to multiple  destinations, and she got lost in there because she did not know the way.

…eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

At the end of the dark chute there is light. It’s a dusky kind of light, like when it’s dark outside but  the lights are on inside. Her first thought are her bags- where are they? Unusual or excessive  displacement could indicate large waves in the chute, suggesting that it might have been a  treacherous swim. She’s standing at the base of a long, vertical elevator shaft. How her  dimensional travel is reflected in the physical architecture she decks out in is another thing she  needs to remember to look into. Glancing back over her right shoulder, she spots them. Her bags;  one resting up against the leg of a chair, and the other placed on the seat of the chair. Exactly how  she would have arranged them if she placed them there herself. She grabs the backpack and  swings it onto her back, and picks up the smaller bag by the handle. looking upwards for the first  time she places herself; a large glass building, ground floor, it’s night-time outside in the city, but  the lights are on dim inside. Nobody’s here. Office block- the lights are like this because it’s an  important building and security will need to be able to see the cctv if someone were to break in.

She didn’t break in. As far as they’re concerned, she’s always been there- at least they think she  has… they can’t remember her not being there. Nor can she strictly remember how she arrived.  But that doesn’t matter. She clocks where the door is, and strides purposefully towards the ID  reader to let herself out. Once again reaching towards her belt, she finds her card and as she pulls  it away from her, the cord that it attaches to extends with it. A small beep on the card reader and  she’s out into the night.

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

cover image generated using runway experiment generative engine.

I want to talk about language - mainly words, and how they can be used as a design tool. I began to be able to articulate this when I was listening to Bon Iver’s 22, a million.

I noticed the invented language that was written into the lyrics. The whole of Bon Iver’s catalogue is “pretty cryptic”, as reddit fans have noted with lyrics "Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me.” (Holocene) “sky is womb and she’s the moon”(Flume), or “well you’re standing on my sternum don’t you climb down darling”(Towers).

But, as we venture from the first two ‘seasons’ (albums) into the third, 22, a million is formed of cryptically entangled, number-based tracks, where Justin Vernon has made up words to articulate himself.

Track 2, ‘10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠’, sees the words:

‘feever’ (written with an extra ‘e’ to denote how it is pronounced in the song? or perhaps the intensity or sensation of the fever?)

‘fuckified’(something that has been fucked up? like ‘glorified’ but ‘fuckified’, but difficult because ‘fuck’ is so universal/mouldable applicable to many things anyway)

‘dedicoding’ (a reference to Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series)

‘unorphaned’(***“**I’m unorphaned in our northern lights” which really sounds like it is Lyra discovering about her parents. another His Dark Materials reference*)

‘dEAThbREasT’ the track title, its own new word

Referencing aside, these words are interesting because they are a hybridisation or altering of the existing English lexicon, and when paired with the strangely written title ‘dEAThbREasT’, we know it’s completely (and artistically) intentional.

The fact that I’m from London, and Vernon is from Upper-Midwestern America (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) it is understandable that our uses of the english language will differ slightly- and I’m talking about away from American/English comparisons (although that will be a contributing factor). I think it’s also safe to say Vernon is well-read; he comes from a Middle class family, and studied Religion and Women’s studies at Undergrad level.

His songs typically include vocabulary that I have not heard (in or out of music) prior to listening and looking up lyric sheets and definitions of these words. So, when added to his methodology of writing lyrics from their sounds, and then finding words to fit the sounds, plus his (unusual?)(and impressive) vocabulary, it’s no wonder that new words emerge in the process of songwriting.

Track 5, 29 #STRAFFORD APTS also contains a new compounded word; ‘paramind’. Fans have different theories of its definition - *“Paramind” is phonetically similar to the word “paramour,” which means a secret or an illicit lover**. ****But, in the larger context of the song, its meaning becomes more multitudinous and ambiguous without losing its power and effect on the listener. Personally, I’m left wondering and thinking about this word ‘paramind’ - it could refer to a duality of minds (para meaning beside, so minds side by side), or perhaps a paranoia (paranoid + mind = paramind), or maybe even the entangled-ness of one’s mind with that of a lover’s; all of the above.

Other examples include, and are not limited to:*

Astuary, from “8 (circle)” — 22, A Million

Arboretic, from “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Ceremon, from “Towers” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Hagen, from “Towers” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver In-vetted, from “Hinnom, TX” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Michicant, from “Michicant” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Rememorize, from “21 M♢♢N WATER” — 22, A Million

*list taken from Mark Hinog’s post on Medium

These new associations use language as a vessel for expression, and words are created as a means of enhancing this method. I would like to draw a comparison between this word-making and Sapir-Whorfian theory of Language Relativity, whereby it is believed that language can alter our perceptions of reality. This diagram is Whorf’s way of explaining the different ‘experienced realities’ of language:

Whorf's illustration of the difference between the English and Shawnee gestalt construction of cleaning a gun with a ramrod. From the article "Science and Linguistics", originally published in the MIT Technology Review, 1940.

The English version (and I only speak english) is a very observational, and individualistic (and human-centric) experience, whereas the Shawnee is more visceral; it concerns the objects involved, their qualities, and motions.

So, shorthand, language-making is an offering of a perspective. → I can create a word to illustrate my perspective.

So, if language can alter perspective/reality, then I would like to suggest that it can also alter relationships and perspectives. And as I mention this, we need the help of Latour’s  Actor Network Theory to articulate that everything in the social and natural worlds exists in constantly shifting networks of relationships, meaning I am not simply addressing the idea of person-person relationships, or person-object relationships, but object-object relationships too. I will even push the boundary of what an ‘object’ is, and expand the term to ‘entity’, meaning they can be natural, technological, human, and they can be tangible or intangible. I am asking you to question your understanding of what an object  is, or can be, and what a relationship is, or can be, and what that will mean for (your) perspective, and how then you can use language (or design, or both) as a method of articulation.

We need only to look as far as Timothy Morton’s ‘Hyperobjects’ as an example of language-making to name a concept he has written a whole book about.

Or, if you prefer a more practical design-based example, then ‘Collapscapes’ by El Ultimo Grito is a good one.

Linguistic relativity points at a difference in gestalt between languages (as shown in the diagram above). Gestalt being a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts; the language used to describe the scenario creates a difference in perspective and experience that is greater than the singular words alone. I would like to investigate this as a method for design by positioning it against a theory for the global skill of drawing* - and the perception of the gestalt (seeing the whole and its parts) and of using the right hemisphere of the brain to access alternative perspectives.

*Betty Edwards’ Drawing on the right side of the brain is a methodology for (cognitively) ‘shifting’ the consciousness of the artist (and I add, designer) from the ‘dominant left hemisphere’ (concerned with language, timekeeping etc) to the right hemisphere, where we ‘think’ in forms, shapes, and spatial relationships. One of the ‘tricks’ employed to cause this ‘shift’ is upside down drawing, where the left-brain cannot identify/name shapes, and so ‘drops out’ of the task of copying the upside-down image.

Edward’s book also lists 5 skills of drawing:

The perception of edges (seeing where one thing ends and another starts)

The perception of spaces (seeing what lies beside and beyond)

The perception of relationships (seeing in perspective and proportion)

The perception of lights and shadows (seeing things in degrees of values)

The perception of the gestalt (seeing the whole and its parts)

She notes that ‘the first four skills require direct teaching - the fifth occurs as an outcome or insight - a visual and mental comprehension of the perceived subject, resulting from the focused attention of the first four’.

I can ‘see’ direct parallels between these five skills and Latour’s Actor Network Theory; we can use these skills as metaphor for object-object relationships, and utilise them as designers to help define our territory, or outline the perspective from which we wish to interrogate our subject matter. Design exists because of the creative ability to shift between hemispheres; designers must perceive the edges of their territory and articulate outcomes through the process of designing and making - yet they must also contextualise their work in a very left-hemisphere fashion of reference making and research.

It is not entirely clear where the job-role of one hemisphere stops and the other begins - it is very much a blurring of responsibilities, defined at the discretion of the designer. I also think this is why design is a discipline of ‘borrowing’ whereby we do not necessarily mind where (or which field) our reference material comes from, but we use its right-hemisphere-qualities (of spaces, relationships, edges, light and shadows, and gestalt) to articulate and ground ourselves in our rational left-hemispheres.

In my work, I often experience ideas as ‘feelings’ that I cannot articulate with words or pictures. However, I am able to find references and say “it’s a bit like this”. Through this gathering of likenesses, I am then able to put them together in my mind, or through writing, designing, or drawing in what might resemble an outcome.

Design Language, therefore, does not have to follow the strict rules of ‘regular language’; making up, or fabricating words to express the inexpressible is great, and should be encouraged*.

*I was recently talking to a designer (architect), who spoke about his work and used the word “homo-normative” (as opposed to heteronormative) to speak about his research into gay culture, and the existence of gay relationships in ‘neutral’ architectural spaces such as public toilets. He said for the gay community, it is (more) ‘normal’ for a married man (in an unhappy hetero marriage) to conduct his (gay) relationship in these neutral spaces- as he cannot have a man in his marital bed. The designer then used the term “homo-normative” to describe the nature of this predicament - all the while explaining that ‘people’ (I don’t know who - I guess ‘straight’ people?) ‘weren’t happy’ with his using/creation of the word. My argument is that we need to, and should create language to articulate these scenarios and territories we find ourselves in as designers.

We can use language as another tool to design the form and means of expression for the things we imagine and create. Linguistic points of reference make design quantifiable, and something we are able to talk about.

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

domestic_______monstersDomestic Monsters: A picture of post-pandemic practice (a review?)

All work is part of the exhibition ‘domestic monsters’ at Deptford town hall’s Constance Howard gallery (Goldsmiths University of London). Designers/Researchers include: Corinne Quin, Juliette Kristensen, Katherine May, Laura Potter, Naama Schendar, Nina Trivedi, Ruby Hoette (developed with Georgina Habgood). Most work is unnamed.

Upon entering Deptford Town Hall, and taking the stairs to the basement - where the Constance Howard Gallery is, I am greeted by a wicker mannequin. It sits with a ‘Superwife’ balaclava over its face (the fabric is printed with a digital collage of Superwife magazine covers in full colour). The mannequin has a ‘Superwife blanket’ (in sepia colours) draped over its legs. Adorned with these garments of protest, the seated pose of the mannequin suggests a passive protest, a protest-in-place as it guides me down the stairs towards a display-case collection of Superwife magazines, where I question if (she?, the mannequin) is an embodiment of  ‘Ms Everything-In-One-All-At-Once’ - a superhero, (and whether her being the superhero is an act of protest in itself?) as the gallery introduction text suggests. 

I am also made aware (by accompanying text) of the ‘omnipresent whiteness’ of the Superwife domestic environment, and prepare myself to see objects that challenge traditional narratives of domesticity, including that of its whiteness.

The show title ‘domestic monsters’ has me questioning what the ‘monster’ will be in each instance of reframed domesticity, and how these will manifest in the works shown.

Redacted Mugs

I find myself wondering what has been lost from these mugs. They are still usable drinking vessels, that property has not been redacted from them. They radiate a sense of censorship, as though their users must be protected from their messages? They are united by the black rectangles, which cover most (or all) of the graphics they used to have. The redaction does not discriminate; printed, painted or glazed, all these mugs are stripped of their decor. But perhaps re-decor’d in this new visual language of censorship. It’s as though the precious eyes and brains of their post-pandemic users were too sensitive to the old normal; the simple act of sitting at home drinking tea as opposed to enjoying it in the company of others-  reminders of being at a friend’s house for tea is too much to bare. Communal tea-time has been cancelled along with everything else, and these mugs wear the scars. And, the way they are wired to the table top (strapped down by their handles to prevent gallery breakages/ opportunistic theft) mirrors the house arrest we were placed under during lockdown, only these mugs have been cast out of the home, banished as domestic monster exhibit 1.

dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot

My attention is then drawn to the side-by-side videos of simultaneously chopping, placing, preparing and arranging of snacks by skilled mother’s hands whilst they are devoured by small hungry hands in the next frame. There is no break, pause, or passing of time available between the two acts. As quickly as the work is done, it is erased. But looking a little closer, and I had to be quick, I could make out a small amount of what I thought was morse code. The works title is . . . - - - . . . ; SOS. The cry of the mother fed to her young in a message they would never understand anyway, for surely it is her job to care for them unconditionally, biologically? What, or who is the monster in this scenario? The mother, feeding her child spitefully where they have no knowledge of her cries for help, the child, who sucks the life-force from her daily, or the scenario she now finds herself in, feeding snacks the bottomless pit; feeding the monster so it can come back for more.

Disappearing Acts

(image taken from @domestic_______monsters instagram)

The same mother climbs into a bed and under the sheets in a disappearing act that lasts for an hour, retreating from responsibility in a way anyone can relate to. But, she does it for herself as well as her children, recharging for all of them in her time cocooned in bright-green sheets. Gallery goers will ask “what is happening” and the correct answer is “nothing”, the green sheets are the big green tick of affirmation, a much needed validation that her ‘disappearing act’ is okay.

Jacket 106 BurdaStyle 02/2022 (Moving Blanket)

A (moving) blanket hangs on the gallery wall; perhaps the furthest piece from my technical understandings. I know enough (or not enough) to tell you these are seamstress marks(?), or patterns that would be drawn on fabric to make clothes. But the quality of the movable blanket is not of typical flimsy pattern-cutting paper.  It holds a heavy-looking, thick-fabriced reminder of the weighted blanket I have at home. The same aesthetic of comfort that we indulged in during our lockdown existences. Like the disappearing act that happened around the corner, a person could be wrapped up in this blanket, and I think the markings are a technical measurement and documentation of this process. The markings themselves are beautiful, meticulous, and narrate the story of a trained seamstress who has found themselves confined to the domestic setting. I see them ‘measuring up’ the blanket wearer. Blanket is new office attire for the typical work-from-homer, but the blanket becomes marker and blueprint-monument of the lockdown space-time. There is a subversion- instead of clothes fitting body, blanket fits all, and the patterns left here are testament to the re-established relationship with this re-discovered garment.

(I have since re-read the accompanying notes from the show. I have mistakenly read the blanket as the moving object, as opposed to the objects moving house and being facilitated by the blanket, hence ‘moving blanket’. I will not alter my false interpretation of the blanket moving).

Figures and Fabrics // Merely Matters (exoskeleton)

Instead of ‘filling up’, ‘wrapping up’ or ‘hiding away from’, exoskeleton represents that which is without. Exoskeleton is absence. The designer talks of “collapsing” their endoskeleton into their exoskeleton. I read this as collapsing away from their own existence, and leaving their exoskeleton behind (matters of care becoming merely matters*). And the pose of the wicker-woven mannequin suggests household labour; the exact nature of the tasks they wish to extract themselves from. The abandoned, or shed Exoskeleton might be the domestic equivalent of industrialist household robot - an ideal situation of a exoskeleton that performs the menial tasks while the body’s regular inhabitant can excuse themselves to the next room and work on more meaningful tasks as opposed to menial ones. And those tasks are at the discretion of the ex-habitant. Perhaps it is a creative pursuit, or they might wish to rest. Or, on a more serious and painful note, the wicker woven exoskeleton may be all the inhabitant feels is left of themselves. The tableau we see is the shell of what they once were before beginning the task we see them held still, burnt out and powered off in the middle of. Their work unfinished, and their abandoned body is paying the price.

*as explained in the accompanying handout

Recovered (completed) tapestries

Recovered (completed) tapestries offers a reframing of domestic labour. Heavily worked pieces of canvas are draped over a wooden clothes horse, as one might drape laundry to dry it. I can tell the arrangement is worth many hours of labour and through this choice of display, that labour is glaringly evident. The tapestries join the 3 other textile-based pieces in the exhibit, bringing forth the present-ness of textiles in our domestic environments. But these tapestries are the most glaring form of protest against the repetitive nature of domestic labour; instead of doing laundry, the labour is used to make tapestry. But the labours share a duality - they both require ‘persistence… patience… it is not for the lazy woman’*.

*as explained in the accompanying handout

Ornamelts

Ornamelts reframes the traditional, china-ornament aesthetic of domesticity in a chaotic, yet carefully articulated rendition of what life is like with children. The work is of ‘hamma beads’ (stupid plastic beads), a children’s toy where small plastic beads are placed on peg boards in a way that forms an image, and then ironed over to melt them together.  I played with these beads as a child. The beads, I’m guessing, are ironed together before being placed, and then melted over the old china ornaments that could be found around the house. This is a mother-making-metaphor for what she feels has happened to her home. The children have descended, and have strewn pieces of themselves all over her house. But ornamelts are peace-making, they are illustrations of the new type of domestic existence that has been created, where a mothers iron doubles to help her children make art. Just as she supports her children, the porcelain supports the melted plastic; structure in chaos.

Extracts from Fashion Constellations

I had to read more about the print-outs of patchwork denim in order to find how they fit with the other works about domesticity.  I cannot make out the 2-d assemblages as recognisable garment shaped wearables, but I cannot definitely deny that they might in fact, be wearable. I wonder how children would react to these, if they were handed them to play with. What new worlds, stories, or outfits they may create from the re-stitched denim panels. I know these constellations are products of ‘done’ and ‘undone’ labour, unpicked and restitched as means of undoing and rebuilding the fashion industry from the perspective of labour. Are they, like SOS (the work using snacks), a metaphor for labours unseen? The denim patches an illustration of domestic performance - jack of all trades and master of none? Is denim the persistent, durable workforce fabric a material metaphor for domestic durability of the individual?

Pink Noise

Pink Noise is the most magical and mysterious of the works; it does not immediately divulge itself to you. A hanging macramé canopy envelops a small pile of pink trash bags. It looks like a usurped household cosy-corner. On top of the trash bags lies a green zine with heavy pink text ‘Pink Noise’. I was too afraid to sit on the bags, from fear of popping their precious pinkness. As soon as you open the zine, the writer states she feels a duality of sensations; a frustration at the omission of blackness from the traditional polemics of textile/fibre art and macramé, and the racist works of Jason Rhoades (black pussy). This sensation is entangled with the ‘fog’ of parenting through the pandemic. Pink Noise refers to the audible frequencies we can hear, and seems to turn into an audible, foggy, bombardment for the designer/researcher of this work. Maren Hassinger’s pink trash bags are brought forth, and reworked to contain a hidden love-note to the child of the designer of Pink Noise. (I have looked for the love notes(s), and they seem to be dispersed throughout the bags).  The piece is meditative; a literal ‘sitting with’ the foggy sensation described in the zine. Whilst Hassinger’s pink plastic bags are filled with ‘air, breath and love notes’*, I imagine Pink Noise’s bags to be filled with research, racial inclusion, and words of wisdom from a mother to her non-white child growing up in a world where ‘white fog’ ‘makes less visible the stuff it omits’* - a world that is ‘heavy and restrictive’*

*taken from the whatsapp conversation at the end of the zine about ‘fog’.

The domestic monster is not within Pink Noise, but outside of the macrame canopy filled with care, teaching, and repurposed domestic activism. The monster is the omission of blackness from the ‘white domesticity’, the monster is the ‘invisibility of an omnipresent whiteness’.

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

The same fingertips we might use to adjust the crumpled collar of a friend we have a crush on grant us access to the digital realm, in which everything is hyper-close. Whatever we wish to discover, find out, piece together, or investigate is accessible on this network of extended memory*

*James Bridle is of the opinion that the internet, or network of the internet is “intimately connected to memory” ... ”it resembles more the space of memory, with its strange connections and absences, than any physical space”.

Which conceptually, is very similar to the relationships we build with each-other; they are formed with, from and intimately entangled with making new memories, whether online or in-person. Relationships share a beautiful pattern resemblance of memory, and the digital network* with chance encounters, interactions, conversations and time spent with one another.

*digital network, or noosphere as James Bridle calls it.

From this point on, I will use ‘noosphere’ to refer to the internet/digital memory/network in the same way Bridle defines it in his blog post.

And digital intimacy has developed this bitter-sweet duality, whereby it is simultaneously more and less than its real-world counterpart. You only have to look at a subreddit, or fan based forum/group to understand that real closeness and shared opinions/appreciations/subject-specific-knowledge on an intellectual level can be achieved. This therefore disseminates and dissolves into emotional connection and other uniquely human experiences, from the screens of the users, into their minds and consciousness, before returning to the forum through their fingertips, and manifesting itself in the form of comments, likes, and reposts. Yet, they sit in their (empty) beds, or (alone) at their desks, continuing to scroll, until they find the next (post?) that resonates hard enough to trigger the feedback loop of repeat fingertip interaction.

The most attractive/’romantic’ feature(?) of the noosphere is that it is formed as a collective memory. All of our consciousnesses are uploaded in multimedia formats, and therefore accessible to everyone else. It’s a perpetual, learning, growing archive and work-in-progress that we can interrupt, follow, or add to at the interjection point of our choosing. It’s fucking wonderful, and fucking terrifying.

No wonder the internet has become an absolute nightmare for celebrities. Fans have an all-access pass to the backstage of their lives (and any form of archive material they could wish for).

My recent obsession with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon has proven this exactly. He is the epitome of someone who wants to hide from their own fame and stay out of the spotlight. However, the internet has provided enough resources that I’m able to build a large picture of who he is, what he looks like, and how he thinks, via the multimedia bombardment of content I am able to access.

(Sorry Justin, but you are the best example for me to explain my findings, due to the fact that you do not want to be found).

I can listen to all of his music through the streaming service of my choice, and watch pretty much any interview he has ever sat for on YouTube. I can read interviews with Eric Timothy Carlson, and their collaborative relationship, and their shared experience of designing the Artwork for 22-a-Million, Bon Iver’s 3rd Album.

If I google his name, I can find out where and when he was born, his height, who his closest collaborators are, and the name of his studio, rumours about his love life, festivals he has played and hosted. If I worked hard enough, I could compile images of his entire set of tattoos. There are even videos of him getting these tattoos done.

(Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, photo by Graham Tolbert & Crystal Quinn)

This photo was part of the promotional material for the latest Bon Iver release i,i , In which the brief was ‘images are not allowed to show Justin’s Face in full’(I think).

If the Internet didn’t exist, Justin Vernon would not exist inside my mind or memory.

And I have been inside of Justin Vernon’s house.

How? You wonder?

How did I get invited into the house of a socially introverted, media-avoidant musician who lives an 11hr flight from London in the middle of Wisconsin, who has been documented saying that he “wont even do photos” (of himself) for the promotional material of next Bon Iver album ?

Tiktok.

Justin has been uploading a series of ‘duets’ where he re-shares his favourite tiktoks, in a split-screen format. He takes up the left half of the video frame, and the video he’s ‘dueting’ is on the right hand side.

Being from Wisconsin, he laughs at this tiktok where ‘visual stereotypes’ of college students from the different Universities of Wisconsin are displayed and narrated. He nods, laughs, or upturns his lips at each picture.

And, if you look at his tiktok page, each ‘duet’ he films shows a portion, or none, of his face, and is filmed in a domestic setting. He sits in his armchair, gets climbed on by his cat, lights a fire on the porch, lays in bed, or goes out the back door whilst ‘dueting’ with the internet (he’s only ever sung along to one video, and you have to listen hard to hear him).

I think the 2-year-global-pandemic we lived through encouraged us to invite the internet into our homes, as it was the last thread attaching us to the rest of humanity. But I wonder if the domestic will ever depart from the Internet?

And does this matter?

All I know is that my mind’s eye and memory is permanently dependent and enmeshed with the noosphere.  The two are codependent and symbiotic - the lived experience of us as individuals is seemingly transferrable; I will not easily forget what Justin Vernon’s living room feels like to sit in, with him, as he tiktoks movies on his projector screen. The whole experience is strangely cosy and intimate; even more so than if he was just re-tweeting the things he enjoyed.

I find it odd that someone so averse to media coverage of themselves would be comfortable letting 13k followers onto their lap in their living room (look closely for the feet). However, Justin has mentioned that he enjoys sharing his favourites with people - and continues to do so, despite the comments being filled with praise for his music and marriage proposals instead of being concerned with the media he is sharing. Another comment I’ve seen in high frequency is ‘new sample’, where fans are suggesting he should use his favourite snippets as samples for new music.

So perhaps, this form of ‘domestic sharing’ could be interpreted as a craving for intimacy - a method of sharing, interaction, and mutual appreciation that we are not often afforded in our lives outside of the noosphere. And Justin is not presenting himself as the focal point of the sharing.

By showing us the circumstances, environment, and medium of his enjoyment of media, he’s flipped what would have previously been a dehumanised re-share, an act of sitting (alone) at a desk or in an (empty) bed and scrolling to the next instance of content, into a shared, entangled, intimate, domestic noosphere environment, whereby he helps me create new memories.

“I sat on the sofa with Justin Vernon and watched 11 seconds of The Hurt Locker. He laughed.”

Here is the cover image alongside the tiktok I drew it from.

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

Entities: Minecraft and NFTs

Having adopted the new name “meta”, Facebook has essentially umbrella-d everything in the socio-digital sphere as its own. Whilst ‘the meta verse’ may be used to describe all things ‘online’, it’s infuriated me that Facebook/Zuckerberg  “successfully” rebranded to assert its ‘ownership’ of this online “space”. 

Meta aside, the metaverse has fascinated me with its sense of space, place and equally weighted non-subscription to either of these in terms of its lack of physical/all digital existence. And, I’ve been using the term ‘entity’ to describe any singular or object manifestation within this non-space (of the metaverse).

Therefore, when the Minecraft/hermitcraft youtuber Grian (who averages between 1 and 2 million views per video upload) has begun his latest Minecraft build, and named it, you guessed it, the E N T I T Y.

Conceptually, hermitcraft hinges largely on the storytelling of the players, and how they interpret and create their own storylines within the context of Minecraft servers, and their interactions within the highly skilled minecrafter/content-creator group they have created over the course of 9 seasons.

Some decisions for storylines can hinge on game mechanics, as Minecraft is a sandbox block for block digital transcription of our own world. And digitalising it’s has made for some quirky game mechanics. For example one of the first achievements players get when starting a new world is for punching, yes PUNCHING a tree to get wood. Other decisions for storylines I’ve noticed, are built upon puns, or parodied dualities of real world occurrences. For example a long tradition of the hermitcraft server is to have a ‘shopping district’ where players are encouraged to open themed shops to sell items they have excess of, or are willing/able to mass produce. The currency most commonly used in the shopping district is diamonds. As the games name is MINEcraft, it’s nice that the fruit of players labour can be used as a currency for items they need to advance themselves in the game. Diamonds are only used to craft certain items that the average player doesn’t need many of, so are a perfect currency item. They are also one of few items that are unfarmable, the only way they can be obtained is through the digital labour of manual mining.

So, Grian’s shops in the previous seasons have been labelled and built, mostly, as puns. Season six (his first season) saw him build a shop called “in a pickle”, in which, quite literally, shoppers would find themselves stuck in a building sized pickle, that there was no easy way out of. This shop sold sea pickles. Then season 7 was an ever expanding barge that saw several iterations, he called upgrades, throughout the season (no puns). Season 8 was a “Grain Train” (playing on Grian’s name often misspelled as Grain, whether as a joke, or by accident). The train looked like an American grain (freight) train, and saw different categories of items being sold from each carriage.

Now, this brings me to Grian’s season 9 shop, where he has built a giant boulder that will “move and evolve” based on what the shop is able to sell. So initially the boulder was made from stone, andesite and tuff blocks; I assume selling those blocks inside. It had a light covering of moss; Grian was selling moss.

Image source

And it’s a solid concept- as he accumulated copper (a block new to the game, and most players are obsessed with it in some way aesthetically- but it’s uses aren’t much practically aside from lightning rods or spyglasses), a copper water wheel appeared on the side of the boulder (entity).

Image source

And I suppose Grian is conceptually unaware(?) of his reach outside of Minecraft related contexts, but in my opinion his content is a lot more relevant than he (and his audience) perhaps realises.

With the rise of NFTs, digital art is perhaps more validated than it was previously (albeit by capitalism). The blockchain has provided solidified (yet still digital) authenticated ownership of artworks, meaning digital artists can now monetise, claim and authenticate their work online (easier?) than previously possible. (Please correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve read what I can on NFTs). Whereas for Hermitcraft, YouTube is a platform that has allowed the content creators to authenticate and monetise their content for a lot longer time period than NFTs. Anyways, what I’m trying to articulate is that as people, we seem to have this need to materialise, prove, or validate things in a material manner. This need seems evermore pressing when we are dealing with intangibles (entities) and the internet. Why do content creators (and now I think of it, musicians) create Merch?  Because its tangible.

By creating the “entity” Grian is (unknowingly?) acknowledging the intangible nature of the realm in which he operates; the digital, the internet. He’s also ascribing to my previous statement about out innate need to physicalise things, and the growing, morphing, changing characteristic he has assigned to it (much like the barge) makes it resilient within the Hermitcraft server/viewer/digital layered environment it exists in.

Now, I follow quite a few digital artists, critics, and academics who work within design, computing and artificial intelligence on twitter. So, when I was just catching up on what I’d missed, I scrolled across this image of an NFT; yes. It’s an entity.

This artwork is by Chris Coleman. The image description is as follows:

Natural Sundering #1

These scans of natural surfaces have been removed from any context, reborn in a clean space for analysis. The seemingly random slice of the world was chosen by human gaze and captured with machines to be transcribed into point clouds, voxels, pixels, and then compressed and broadcast. A new kind of Cartesian memory in the network, existing for as long as humans choose to maintain it.

And like Grian’s entity, it has a second iteration:

You can find the tweets here and here.

I think what I’m trying to do is articulate the socio-digital atmosphere we now exist in, and understand or perhaps ‘pin down’ the aesthetic that this space has adopted.

Natural sundering is a digital collapscape*: the compression of time, space and place into a new digital rendering.

*see El Ultimo Grito’s project collapscapes for theory surrounding this word.

It’s ‘Cartesian’ qualities are similar to the blocky nature of Minecraft, and the clear choice to integrate them, and possibly even emphasise the grid system is another aesthetic quality of this ‘new universal aesthetic’ that has emerged where art is concerned, entangled with, and formed from  its own digitality.

I wonder why we like these images. Do they represent our position? Present visual understandings of said position? Perhaps they help us articulate our feelings towards this position and again, materialise these articulations. They propel us towards an understanding of our future - I’m not sure if this future is digital or not. And when matters of a global crisis are upon us, perhaps it is even more fitting that these images are of ‘natural’ structures.  But they both possess man made, and digitally rendered qualities. Hybrid entities.

#writing

[emmairwindesign]

#work

[emmairwindesign]

Living Internet - Text Experiment

#work #writing

[emmairwindesign]

#work

[emmairwindesign]

When did I realise it would work? Perhaps it was when the words and ideas, collectively, meant more than they did in isolation. It was when the three of us could reach outside of ourselves to create collective meaning. Forwards, towards, together… another iteration of something done before.

We did it by copying and pasting, every day, and using each other to speculate, to signpost, and to try to do something.

Have you ever looked between [the] Internet? How might the world be perceived in there?

The constraints of working in conceptual sludge is that you have no physical means of way-finding within your own, outlined territory.  And because the territory is your own, and it’s not entirely real, and not entirely unreal, you’re not really sure what to ‘hold onto’ (in the loosest way possible).

It feels a bit like Lucky in waiting for godot: “[I] seem to be clutching at straws, hubristically trying to assert meaning meaninglessly where there is none…” -Tom Marriage

I’ve been talking to internet bots.

Why?

I wanted to understand the internet, but not in the way you’d first think. Not for apps, data, or browser history. But for the way we communicate with the internet. And perhaps with the way the Internet ‘talks back’ (again, in the loosest way possible).

Perhaps it’s how the keys feel under your fingers as you type, or the swoosh of the mouse across the tab. Maybe that image… that never seems to be found… so instead you see that little ‘image not found’ icon. Or maybe it’s that the internet was built from language (code) to share language (content), facilitated by language (syntax…).

The discussions can be taken lightly, you can read into them as much as you want, or you can listen and try and point out where I missed something the bot was trying to tell me. I think I missed a lot.

These discussions are called ‘logs’ and are taken from the ‘theatre of ideas’… highly appropriate for the absurdist nature of the Internet if you ask me…

Botnik: The project is about the internet. Between people and the virtual environment is where there is a space between thing that can be articulated … what it is trying to tap into the internet syntax in relation to VDS digital warehouse will prompt design work.

Transformer: It is a way of addressing the environment of digital studios and digital manufacturing…

The purpose of this project is to create a platform in which we can explore and have discussions with others in virtual…

Emma: environments. Perhaps the ‘others’ are human, perhaps they are semi-human. But the Virtual Design Studio is about articulating the ‘internet disconnect’. It would be like if you photocopied something repeatedly until it was only semi-recognisable; you’d still know it was the original image, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Botnik: The internet version of your experience is not entirely human. Perhaps the internet is not a place but some secondary warehouse for speculative outputs that potentially begin to develop a new territories.

Emma: The Virtual Design Studio exists in the third space.

Transformer: Using virtual properties in the third space: The “metaverse”. These properties are a mental portfolio that defines how the designer would like the future world to look and feel. They allow us to design whole things from scratch, instead of figuring out how to buy the proper materials and make certain things work. Or to figure out how to make certain things go faster. Using virtual properties in the third space: these facilities are designed to generate entirely new worlds.

loop- A cyclical process for content generation.

For example:

1. Having a conversation with transformer to make a script involves copying and pasting text back into transformer.

2. Having a conversation with Botnik involves using pre-made text as a txt file, and then he predicts the next piece of text.

3. Generating Images involves using pre-existing text, script or generated texts experiments into generative engine

Transformer: No. You can pretty much create a loop at any point in time. There is also no need for a database for human interaction design to work, as you can generate or access information via verbal exchanges between multiple participants. The result is more agile, intuitive, and convenient process.

Emma: but can the loops be visualised?

Transformer: Sure. Use visual markers. Symbols, words, numbers, etc.

Transformer: ok, so does one loop continuously pass through the other?

Transformer: Yes. Like a piece of music.

Emma: ok, and what should be in the next loop?

Botnik:

i should generate the project history for some help prompt

warehouse loop

mapping- bit

space hyphen disconnect questions

management bit

it could be hyperlinked through audio discussion members

like buildings dictionary project history

the tertiary loop of practice to describe about practice logic loops

the images we make out what we’re trying to conceptualise

then what we’re trying to do

with the virtual design studio

——————————————————

Look between the internet,  into the metaverse, the third space, between the real and the virtual, where hyphens of articulated ‘things’ exist.

It’s not a place, not a thing

But it’s about (the) Internet… The interface where (the) Internet meets interaction, where portal meets practice…  The virtual and the physical. It is an exploration of the space between thing and no(n)-thing, space and spacelessness, place and non-place.

#work #writing

[emmairwindesign]

Emma* graduated from the BA Design at Goldsmiths in 2020 with a first class honours. As the only ‘multidisciplinary’ design course in the UK, her post-disciplinary practice was well-nurtured there. She consolidates writing, collage and making to interrogate aspects of 'dasein’*.

*Dasein is a German word that means “being there” or “presence” (German: da “there”; sein “to be”), and is often translated into English with the word “existence”. It is a fundamental concept in the existential philosophy of Martin Heidegger.

*Emma has the German meaning “universal”, and when put into the context of design/dasein, means multi/post-disciplinary; universal.Her final project was concerned with the Internet, AI, and Speculative design. She created 'the virtual design studio’ as a means of investigation, with a desire to create 'entities’ from the intangible subject matter the work was concerned with.

In 2020, Emma produced a 7,000 word contextual report on [the] Internet, which looks at human relationships with [the] Internet in parallel to existentialism. It draws on ideas and philosophies of Samuel Beckett, Marc Auge, Mark Fisher, and other technological writings and criticisms.

Since leaving University, Emma has been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia (chronic pain) and CFS (chronic fatigue syndrome) and at present is working out a new relationship with working and design practice alongside managing a chronic health condition.

She hopes to pursue an MA in Writing or Design Research, and works as a freelance Graphic Designer outside of personal practice.

#about

[emmairwindesign]

Icons

#work

[emmairwindesign]

Icons

#work

[emmairwindesign]

Another Rhizomatic Dimension, collage.

#work

[emmairwindesign]

Icons

#work

[emmairwindesign]

VR

#work

[emmairwindesign]

HOW TO NAVIGATE A LOCKDOWN WHILST FINISHING A [CREATIVE] DEGREE.

Just for a bit of framing for the situation, I’ve just finished my degree. Coronavirus precautions and lockdown measures meant ‘we’ (the BA Design @ Goldsmiths class of 2020) were sent home from our studios on the 16th of March 2020. UK lockdown was put in place on 23rd March 2020.

keywords: community, care and goals.

“No longer can anything exist in isolation” - WALTER GROPIUS “THE THEORY AND ORGANIZATION OF THE BAUHAUS” (1923)

Despite our obvious and pressing concerns of the pandemic, we felt it was paramount to foster community, and continue the Design Department Studio Culture we’d created and been immersed in over our time on the three year programme.

BADIsolation (which stands for BA Design [in] Isolation), the ‘Studio Youtube Channel’ was conceived as a means of doing so by Emily Blake, one of the third year designers in my cohort. We all contributed ‘vlogs’ to the channel over the 12 weeks leading up to our submission deadlines.

I held onto those videos; I waited for them, watched them, and gobbled them up. They kept me in the studio when we couldn’t be in the studio. I saw parts of my peers I didn’t expect to see, and wouldn’t have had the fortune to see, had it not been for the lockdown and the reclusion of design practice to our bedrooms.

My mind also wandered to the fundamental part of my practice that I was missing out on; people.

There’s something special and sacred about having designers around you. You share the space, see each other’s work, and it’s the conversations had in passing that can make your project. Obviously the designer does the work, and ‘makes the thing’, but there’s intricacies of thought provocation that those conversations provide. I don’t know how else those kind of developments happen.

“The best thing about the RCA was the people and the connections” –STUDIO HYTE, SUMMER PLACEMENT 2019

Perhaps that’s why I lust after the RCA. Everyone I’ve spoken to says the main reason to go is because of who you’ll meet while you’re there, and the type of networking that it allows. And I think can be said for BAD at Goldsmiths, only the lockdown freed many of us from the social cliques that manifested in the studio, and everything being online “flattened the democracy”1 of our collaborations to an extent that we were more powerful.

1Jodi Dean: The Limits of the Web in an Age of Communicative Capitalism

“It’s about notions of care” – LAURA POTTER, METHODS AND STRATEGIES FOR MAKING OBJECTS AND OUTCOMES WITHIN A DOMESTIC ENVIRONMENT, ZOOM LECTURE, 30TH MARCH 2020

From this experience, we learned to make-do. To care for what we had, and to care for what we were trying to do. But, I also thing that this notion was continued and dissolved into every aspect of our respective practices. Over the live events for our show week for ‘hey, look, something is happening’ I saw some really beautiful outcomes, interactions, and manifestations of the three year experience.

I saw things I didn’t previously know that people in my year were working towards. But my seeing them was made possible partially because of the youtube channel, and partially because of our ‘virtual show-not-a-show’ but predominantly because of how we designed those live events to facilitate and display the things that we had no other means of displaying. In live, online, “happenings”.

And it was so, so important to have that goal to work towards.

#writing