Category: Exhibitions

Revamping Moon v Earth

My artwork occupies the space between the digital and analog as I generate physical expressions of the virtual. In the last several years, most of my work with transforming data into sculptures and installations.

But sometimes I return to narratives themselves. It’s not so much a lack of focus but rather a continual inquiry into technology and its social expression. Imaginary narratives seem particularly relevant these days with the subjectivity of truth magnifying an already polarized political discourse.

I recently finished revamping a project called Moon v Earth, originally presented in 2012 at the Adler Planetary Museum. This augmented reality artwork installation depicts a future narrative where a moon colony run by elites declares its independence from Earth. It is now on display at the Institute of Contemporary Art in San Jose.

Here are a few augments from the 2012 exhibition that made it in the 2018 show. My favorite was this pair of newspapers, which showed two different ‘truths’. At the time, “fake news” meant nothing and the idea of seeding false stories into online outlets wasn’t a remarkable.

The last augment — the ridiculous wooden catapult about to launch rocks at Earth — refers to the Robert Heinlein novel, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. This inspired the my project many years ago. In his plot line, the moon was a penal colony much like Australia 200 years ago and features an AI as one of the three heads of the revolution. The independence-seekers achieved victory by hurled asteroids at Earth as their most effective weapon.

I created this absurd 3D model in the imaginary world of Second Life as an amateur 3D assemblage. It was quick and dirty, like much digital artwork and as we see nowadays, like the fragility of truth.

The turn of Moon v Earth, at least the 2018 version is that the augments aren’t virtual at all, but instead are constructed as physical augments hanging from fishing line or hot-glued against a cardboard backing. At first, I tried working with AR technology, but soon discovered its compromises: a device-dependence and a distance between the viewer and the experience. Instead, the physical objects shows the fragile and fragmentary nature of the work in cheap cardboard facades and flimsy hanging structures distributed throughout the venue.

NextNewGames is at the San Jose ICA until September 16th, 2018

Sonaqua at Currents 2018

I jokingly referred to my Sonaqua artwork as “the most annoying piece at the festival”. The exhibition was Currents New Media 2018, which was an incredible event.

It was a hit with the public and invited multi-user interaction. Kids went crazy for it. Adults seemed to enjoy the square-waves of audio glitch all night.

So yes, perhaps a tad abrasive, but it was also widely popular.

A number of people were intrigued by the water samples and electronics with what looked like a tangly mess of wires. It was actually a solid wiring job and nothing broke!

After working at the Exploratorium for a couple of years, I adjusted my approach to public engagement so that anyone can get something from this artwork.

How does it work?

The electrodes take a reading of the electrical current flow in various water samples that I collected throughout New Mexico. If more current flows through the water, then this means there are more minerals and salts, which is usually an indicator of less clean water.

The technical measurement is electrical conductivity, which correlates to total dissolved solids, which is one measure of water quality that scientists frequently use.

The installation plays lower tones for water that is more conductive (less pure) and higher tones for water that has less pollutants in it.

The results are unpredictable and fun, with 12 different water quality samples.

The light table is custom-built with etchings of New Mexico rivers and waterways, indicating where the original water sample was taken.






Collecting Sacred Fluids

I recently debuted a new art installation called Cybernetic Spirits at the L.A.S.T. Festival. This is an interactive electronic artwork, where participants generate sonic arrangements based on various sacred fluids. These include both historical liquids-of-workshop such as holy water, blood and breast milk and more contemporary ones such as gasoline and coconut water.

My proposal got accepted. Next, I had to actually collect these fluids.

My original list included: blood, holy water, coffee, gasoline, adrenaline, breast milk, corn syrup, wine, coca-cola, coconut water, vaccine (measles), sweat and kombucha

Some of these were easily procured at the local convenience store and a trip to the local gas pump. No problem.

But what about the others? I found holy water on Amazon, which didn’t surprise me, but then again this wasn’t anything I had ever thought about before.

I knew the medical ones would be the hardest: adrenaline and a measles vaccine. After hours scouring the internet and emailing with a doctor friend of mine, I realized I had to abandon these two. They were either prohibitively expensive or would require deceptive techniques that I wasn’t willing to try.

Art is a bag of failures and I expected not to be entirely successful. Corn syrup surprised me however. After my online shipment arrived, I discovered was sticky and too thick. It is syrup after all. Right. My electrical probes got gunky and more to the point, it didn’t conduct any electrical current. No current = no sound.

Meanwhile, I put out feelers for the human bodily fluids: blood, sweat and breast milk. Although it was easy to find animal blood, what I really wanted was human blood (mine). I connected with a friend of a friend, who is a licensed nurse and supporter of the arts. After many emails, we arranged an in-home blood draw. I thought I’d be squeamish about watching my blood go into several vials (I needed 50ml for the installation), but instead was fascinated by the process. We used anti-coagulant to make it less clotty, but it still separated into a viscous section at the bottom.

Since I am unable to produce breast milk, I cautiously inquired with some good friends who are recent moms and found someone willing to help. So grateful! She supplied me with one baby-serving size of breast milk just a couple of days before the exhibition, so that it would preserve better. At this point, along with the human blood in the fridge, I was thankful that I live alone and didn’t have to explain what was going on to skeptical housemates.

I saved the sweat for the last-minute, thinking that there was some easy way I could get sweaty in an exercise class and extract some. Once again a friend helped me, or at least tried, by going to a indoor cycling class and sweating into a cotton t-shirt. However, wringing it out produced maybe a drop or two of sweat, nowhere close to the required 50ml for the vials.

I was sweating over the sweat and really wanted it. I made more inquiries. One colleague suggested tears. Of course, blood, sweat and tears, though admittedly I felt like I was treading into Kik Smith territory at this point.

So, I did a calculation on the amount of tears you would need to collect 50ml and this would mean a crying a river everyday for about 8 months. Not enough time and not enough sadness.

Finally, just before shooting the documentation for the installation, the sweat came through. I friend’s father works for a company that produces artificial sweat and gave me 5 gallons of this mixture. It was a heavy thing to carry on BART, but I made it home without any spillage.

Artificial sweat? Seems gross and weird. The truth is a lot more sensible. A lot of companies need to test human sweat effects on products from wearable devices to steering wheels and it’s more efficient to make synthetic sweat than work with actual humans. Economics carves odd channels.

My artwork often takes me on odd paths of inquiry and this was no exception. Now, I just have to figure out what to do with all the sweat I have stored in my fridge. 





Sonaqua goes to Biocultura

Last month…yes, blogging can be slow, I traveled to Santa Fe with the support of Andrea Polli and taught a workshop on my Sonaqua project.

The basic idea of Sonaqua is to sonfiy — create sounds — based on water quality. As a module, these are Arudino-based and designed for a single-user to make a sound. I’m actively teaching workshops on these and have open-sourced the software and made the hardware plans available.

interested in a Sonaqua workshop? then contact me

My Sonaqua installation creates orchestral arrangements of water samples based on electrical conductivity. Here’s a link to the video that explains the installation, which I did in Bangkok this June.

Back to New Mexico..In the early part of the week, I taught a workshop on the Sonaqua circuit at one of Andrea’s classes at UNM, creating single-player modules for each student. We collected water samples and played each one separately. The students were fun and set up this small example of water samples with progressive frequencies, almost like a scale.

The lower the pitch, the more polluted* the water sample and so higher-pitched samples might correspond to filtered drinking water.

Later in the week, I traveled to Biocultura in Santa Fe, which is a space that Andrea co-runs. Here, I installed the orchestral arrangement of the work, based on 12 water samples in New Mexico. She had a whole set of beakers and scientific-looking vessels, so I used what we had on hand and installed it on a shelf behind the presentation.

A physical map (hard to find!) of the sites where I took water samples.

And a close-up shot of one of the water samples + speakers. If you look closely, you can see an LED inside the water sample.

My face is obscured by the backlit screen. I presented my research with Sonaqua, as well as several other projects around water that evening to the Biocultura audience.

And afterwards, the attendees checked out the installation while I answered questions.

Equitybot goes to Vienna

EquityBot resumes its world tour (Utrecht, Vancouver, Bilbao, Amsterdam, San Francisco, Columbus) with a group show in Vienna.

MOOD SWINGS – On Mood Politics, Sentiment Data, Market Sentiments and Other Sentiment Agencies

Curated by Sabine Winkler


dates and times
Mar 31 to May 28, Tue to Sun 13-20:00

Press Tour: Wed, Mar 29, 10:00
Opening: Thu, Mar 30, 19:00

It is moods rather than facts that are determining perceptions, decisions and courses of action to an ever greater degree. Mood data, in turn is a sought-after subject for analysis; emotions are being quantified and simulated. The exhibition “Mood Swings – On mood politics, sentiment data, market sentiments and other sentiment agencies”, curated by Sabine Winkler, focuses on the significance and radius of sentiment in politics, business, technology, media and art.

Antoine Catala (FRA)*, Xavier Cha (USA), Florian Göttke (GER/NLD), Femke Herregraven (NLD), Hertog Nadler (NLD/ISR)*, Micah Hesse (USA)*, Francis Hunger (GER), Scott Kildall (USA), Barbora Kleinhamplová (CZE), Tom Molloy (IRL), Barbara Musil (AUT), Bego M. Santiago (ESP)*, Ruben van de Ven (NLD)*, Christina Werner (AUT)
*Q21/MQ Artist-in-Residence

Machine Data Dreams @ Black & White Projects

This week, I opened a solo show called Machine Data Dreams, at Black & White Projects. This was the culmination of several months of work where I created three new series of works reflecting themes of data-mapping, machines and mortality.

The opening reception is Saturday, November 5th from 7-9pm. Full info on the event is here.

Two of the artworks are from my artist-in-residency with SETI and the third is a San Francisco Arts Commission Grant.

All of the artwork uses custom algorithms to translate datasets into physical form, which is an ongoing exploration that I’ve been focusing on in the last few years.

Each set of artwork deserves more detail but I’ll stick with a short summary of each.

Fresh from the waterjet, Strewn Fields visualizes meteorite impact data at four different locations on Earth.

water-jet-1Strewn Fields: Almahata Sitta

As an artist-in-residence with SETI, I worked with planetary scientist, Peter Jenniskens to produce these four sculptural etchings into stone.

When an asteroid enters the earths atmosphere, it does so at high velocity — approximately 30,000 km/hour. Before impact, it breaks into thousands of small fragments — meteorites which spread over areas as large as 30km. Usually the spatial debris fall into the ocean or hits at remote locations where scientists can’t collect the fragments.

And, only recently have scientists been able to use GPS technology to geolocate hundreds of meteorites, which they also weigh as they gather them. The spread patterns of data are called “Strewn Fields”.

Dr. Jenniskens is not only one of the world’s experts on meteorites but led the famous  2008 TC3 fragment recovery in Sudan of the Almahata Sitta impact.

With four datasets that he both provided and helped me decipher, I used the high-pressure waterjet machine at Autodesk’s Pier 9 Creative Workshops, where I work as an affiliate artist and also on their shop staff, to create four different sculptures.

water-jet-2Strewn Fields: Sutter’s Mill

The violence of the waterjet machine gouges the surface of each stone, mirroring the raw kinetic energy of a planetoid colliding with the surface of the Earth. My static etchings capture the act of impact, and survive as an antithetical gesture to the event itself. The actual remnants and debris — the meteorites themselves — have been collected, sold and scattered and what remains is just a dataset, which I have translated into a physical form.

A related work, Machine Data Dreams are data-etchings memorials to the camcorder, a consumer device which birthed video art by making video production accessible to artists.


This project was supported by an San Francisco Individual Arts Commission grant. I did the data-collection itself during an intense week-long residency at Signal Culture, which has many iconic and working camcorders from 1969 to the present.

sonyvideorecorderSONY VIDEORECORDER (1969)
pixelvisionPIXELVISION CAMERA (1987)

During the residency, I built a custom Arduino data-logger which captured the raw electronic video signals, bypassing any computer or digital-signal processing software.data_loggerWith custom software that I wrote, I transformed these into signals that I could then etch onto 2D surfaces.Screen Shot 2015-08-02 at 10.56.15 PM I paired each etching with its source video in the show itself.


Celebrity Asteroid Journeys is the last of the three artworks and is also a project of from the SETI Artist in Residency program, though is definitively more light-hearted than the Strewn Fields.

Celebrity Asteroid Journeys charts imaginary travels from one asteroid to another. There are about 700,000 known asteroids, with charted orbits. A small number of these have been named after celebrities.

Working with asteroid orbital data from JPL and estimated spaceship velocities, I charted 5 journeys between different sets of asteroids.

My software code ran calculations over 2 centuries (2100 – 2300) to figure out the the best path between four celebrities. I then transposed the 3D data into 2D space to make silkscreens with the dates of each stop.


This was my first silkscreened artwork, which was a messy antidote to the precise cutting of the machine tools at Autodesk.

All of these artworks depict the ephemeral nature of the physical body in one form or another. Machine Data Dreams is a clear memorial itself, a physical artifact of the cameras that once were cutting-edge technology.

With Celebrity Asteroid Journeys, the timescale is unreachable. None of us will ever visit these asteroids. And the named asteroids are memorials themselves to celebrities (stars) that are now dead or soon, in the relative sense of the word, will be no longer with us.

Finally, Strewn Fields captures a the potential for an apocalyptic event from above. Although these asteroids are merely minor impacts, it is nevertheless the reality that an extinction-level event could wipe out human species with a large rock from space. This ominous threat of death reminds us that our own species is just a blip in Earth’s history of life.


EquityBot World Tour

Art projects are like birthing little kids. You have grand aspirations but never know how they’re going to turn out. And no matter, what, you love them.

20151125 125225

It’s been a busy year for EquityBot. I didn’t expect at all last year that my stock-trading algorithm Twitterbot would resonate with curators, thinkers and  general audience so well. I’ve been very pleased with how well this “child” of mine has been doing.

This year, from August-December, it has been exhibited in 5 different venues, in 4 countries. They include MemFest 2015 (Bilbao), ISEA 2015, (Vancouver), MoneyLab 2, Economies of Dissent (Amsterdam) and Bay Area Digitalists (San Francisco).

Of course, it helps the narrative that EquityBot is doing incredibly well, with a return rate (as of December 4th) of 19.5%. I don’t have the exact figures, but the S&P for this time period, according to my calculations, is the neighborhood of -1.3%.

Screen Shot 2015-12-05 at 9.13.20 AM


The challenge with this networked art piece is how to display it. I settled on making a short video, with the assistance of a close friend, Mark Woloschuk. This does a great job of explaining how the project works.

And, accompanying it is a visual display of vinyl stickers, printed on the vinyl sticker machine at the Creative Workshops at Autodesk Pier 9, where I once had a residency and now work (part-time).




Selling Bad Data

The reception for my solo show “Bad Data”, featuring the Bad Data series is this Friday (July 24, 2015) at A Simple Collective.

Date: July 24th, 2015
Time: 7-9pm
Where: ASC Projects, 2830 20th Street (btw Bryant and York), Suite 105, San Francisco

The question I had, when pricing these works was how do you sell Bad Data? The material costs were relatively low. The labor time was high. And the data sets were (mostly) public.

We came up with this price list, subject to change.

///  Water-jet etched aluminum honeycomb:

18 Years of San Francisco Evictions, 2015 | 20 x 20 inches | $1,200
Data source: The Anti-Eviction Mapping Project and the SF Rent Board

2015 AirBnB Listings in San Francisco, 2015 | 20 x 20 inches | $1,200
Data source:

Worldwide Haunted Locations, 2015 | 24 x 12 inches | $650
Data source: Wikipedia


Worldwide UFO Sightings, 2015 | 24 x 12 inches | $650
Data source: National UFO Reporting Center (NUFORC)


Missouri Abortion Alternatives, 2015 | 12 x 12 inches
Data source: (U.S. Government) | $150


Southern California Starbucks, 2015 | 12 x 8 inches | $80
Data source:


U.S. Prisons, 2015 | 18 x 10 inches | $475
Data source: Prison Policy Initiative (via Josh Begley’s GitHub page)

///  Water-jet etched aluminum honeycomb with anodization:


Albuquerque Meth Labs, 2015 | 18 x 12 inches | $475
Data source:


U.S. Mass Shootings (1982-2012), 2015 | 18 x 10 inches | $475
Data source: Mother Jones


Blacklisted IPs, 2015 | 20 x 8 ½  inches | $360
Data source: Suricata SSL Blacklist


Internet Data Breaches, 2015 | 20 x 8 ½ inches | $360
Data source:

Genetic Portraits and Microscope Experiments

I recently finished a new artwork — called Genetic Portraits — which is a series of microscope photographs of laser-etched glass that data-visualize a person’s genetic traits.

I specifically developed this work as an experimental piece, for the Bearing Witness: Surveillance in the Drone Age show. I wanted to look at an extreme example of how we have freely surrendered our own personal data for corporate use. In this case, 23andMe provides a (paid) extensive genetic sequencing package. Many people, including myself have sent in saliva samples to the company, which they then process. From their website, you can get a variety of information, including their projected likelihood that you might be prone to specific diseases based on your genetic traits.

Following my line of inquiry with other projects such as Data Crystals and Water Works, where I wrote algorithms that transformed datasets into physical objects, this project processes individual’s genetic sequence to generate vector files, which I later use to laser-etch onto microscope slides. The full project details are here.


Concept + Material
I began my experiment months earlier, before the project was solidified, by examining the effect of laser-etching on glass underneath a microscope. This stemmed from conversations with some colleagues about the effect of laser-cutting materials. When I looked at this underneath a microscope, I saw amazing results: an erratic universe accentuated by curved lines. Even with the same file, each etching is unique. The glass cracks in different ways. Digital fabrication techniques still results in distinct analog effects. 

blog-IMG_4106When the curators of the show, Hanna Regev and Matt McKinley, invited me to submit work on the topic of surveillance, I considered how to leverage various experiments of mine, and came back to this one, which would be a solid combination of material and concept: genetic data etched onto microscope slides and then shown at a macro scale: 20” x 15” digital prints.

Surrendering our Data
I had so many questions about my genetic data. Is the research being shared? Do we have ownership of this data? Does 23andMe even ask for user consent? As many articles point out, the answers are exactly what we fear. Their user agreement states that “authorized personnel of 23andMe” can use the data for research. This sounds officially-sounding text simply means that 23andMe decides who gets access to the genetic data I submitted. 23andMe is not unique: other gene-sequencing companies have similar provisions, as the article suggests.

Some proponents suggest that 23andMe is helping the research front, while still making money. It’s capitalism at work. This article in Scientific American sums up the privacy concerns. Your data becomes a marketing tool and people like me handed a valuable dataset to a corporation, which can then sell us products based on the very data we have provided. I completed the circle and I even paid for it.   

However, what concerns me even more than 23andMe selling or using the data — after all, I did provide my genetic data, fully aware of its potential use — is the statistical accuracy of genetic data. Some studies have reported a Eurocentric bias to the data and The FDA has also has battled with 23andMe regarding the health data they provide. The majority of the data (with the exception of Bloom’s Syndrome) simply wasn’t predictive enough. Too many people had false positives with the DNA testing, which not only causes worry and stress but could lead to customers taking pre-emptive measures such as getting a mastectomy if they mistakenly believe they have are genetically predisposed to breast cancer.

A deeper look at the 23andMe site shows a variety of charts that makes it appear like you might be susceptible (or immune) to certain traits. For example, I have lower-than-odds of having “Restless Leg Syndrome“, which is probably the only neurological disorder that makes most people laugh when hearing about it. My genetic odds of having it are simply listed as a percentage.

Our brains aren’t very good with probabilistic models, so we tend to inflate and deflate statistics. Hence, one of many problems of false positives.

And, as I later discovered, from an empirical standpoint, my own genetic data strayed far from my actual personality. Our DNA simply does not correspond closely enough to reality.

Screen Shot 2015-06-16 at 11.06.44 AM

Data Acquisition and Mapping
From the 23andMe site, you can download your raw genetic data. The resulting many-megabyte file is full of rsid data and the actual allele sequences.

Screen Shot 2015-06-15 at 10.37.08 AM

Isolating useful information from this was tricky. I cross-referenced some of the rsids used for common traits from 23andMe with the SNP database. At first I wanted to map ALL of the genetic data. But, the dataset was complex — too much so for this short experiment and straightforward artwork.

Instead, I worked with some specific indicators that correlate to physiological traits such as lactose tolerance, sprinter-based athleticism, norovirus resistances, pain sensitivity, the “math” gene, cilantro aversion — 15 in total. I avoided genes that might correlate to various general medical conditions like Alzheimer’s and metabolism.

For each trait I cross-referenced the SNP database with 23andMe data to make sure the allele values aligned properly. This was arduous at best.

There was also a limit on physical space for etching the slide, so having more than 24 marks or etchings one plate would be chaotic. Through days of experimentation, I found that 12-18 curved lines would make for compelling microscope photography.

To map the data onto the slide, I modified Golan Levin’s decades-old Yellowtail Processing sketch, which I had been using as a program to generate curved lines onto my test slides. I found that he had developed an elegant data-storage mechanism that captured gestures. From the isolated rsids, I then wrote code which gave weighted numbers to allele values (i.e. AA = 1, AG = 2, GG = 3, depending on the rsid).


Based on the rsid numbers themselves, my code generated (x, y) anchor points and curves with the allele values changing the shape of each curve. I spent some time tweaking the algorithm and moving the anchor points. Eventually, my algorithm produced this kind of result, based on the rsids.


The question I always get asked about my data-translation projects is about legibility. How can you infer results from the artwork? Its a silly question, like asking an Kindle engineer to to analyze a Shakespeare play. A designer of data-visualization will try to tell a story using data and visual imagery.

My research and work focuses deep experimentation with the formal properties of sculpture — or physical forms — based on data. I want to push boundaries of what art can look like, continuing the lineage of algorithmically-generated work by artists such as Sol Lewitt, Sonia Rappaport and Casey Raes.

Is it legible? Slightly so. Does it produce interesting results? I hope so.


But, with this project, I’ve learned so much about genetic data — and even more about the inaccuracies involved. It’s still amazing to talk about the science that I’ve learned in the process of art-making.

Each of my 5 samples looks a little bit different. This is the mapping of actual genetic traits of my own sample and that of one other volunteer named “Nancy”.


Genetic Traits for Scott (ABOVE)

genome_scott_notatedWe both share a number of genetic traits such as the “empathy” gene and curly hair. The latter seems correct — both of our hair is remarkably straight. I’m not sure about the empathy part. Neither one of us is lactose intolerant (also true in reality).

But the test-accuracy breaks down on several specific points. Nancy and I do have several differences including athletic predisposition. I have the “sprinter” gene, which means that I should be great at fast-running. I also do not have the math gene. Neither one of these is at all true.

I’m much more suited to endurance sports such as long-distance cycling and my math skills are easily in the 99th percentile. From my own anecdotal standpoint, except for well-trodden genetics like eye color, cilantro aversion and curly hair, the 23andMe results often fail.

The genetic data simply doesn’t seem to be support the physical results. DNA is complex. We know this, it is non-predictive. Our genotype results in different phenotypes and the environmental factors are too complex for us to understand with current technology.

Back to the point about legibility. My artwork is deliberately non-legible based on the fact that the genetic data isn’t predictive. Other mapping projects such as Water Works are much more readable.

I’m not sure where this experiment will go. I’ve been happy with the results of the portraits, but I’d like to pursue this further, perhaps in collaboration with scientists who would be interested in collaboration around the genetic data.




gp_michele_may11 gp_nancy_may11 gp_scott_may11

Make Art, Not Landfill

This Thursday (June 8, 2015), will be the opening of Make Art, Not Landfill, which is the 25th Anniversary of the Recology Artists in Residence program. If you are in San Francisco, you should go to the show.

I first heard about the program in the late 1990s. In 2010, I saw the 20th Anniversary show, and later that year, applied and was accepted. I started my residency in February 2011. During this time, I made a series called “2049” — where I played the role of a prospector from the year 2049, who was mining the dump for resources to construct “Imaginary Devices” to help me survive.

skl_051811_050These included items such as the Sniffer, the 2049 Hotline, the Universal Mailbox, Reality Simulator and Infinite Power. Each one was accompanied by a blueprint with imaginary symbols on it.


Using these scavenged items, I built a complex narrative around some sort of future collapse. The work was odd, funny and touched veins of consumption for many people. Dorothy Santos did a writeup for Asterisk Magazine on the 2049 Series, which captured some of the feelings evoked by the sculptures, paintings and videos.


Part of the deal with being an artist-in-residence at The Dump is that they get to keep one of your artworks. And exhibitions like this are exactly the reason why. The good folks at Recology put on shows, featuring work from their program. The artwork that they elected to retain was the Universal Mailbox (below), which will be in tomorrow’s show.

I constructed the Universal Mailbox from a discarded UPS keypad, scrap wood, a found satellite dish and dryer hose. I found the paint at the dump as well. skl_051811_018 I used a similar technique for the 2049 Hotline, and during the opening, friends of mine played the role of “emissaries from the year 2049”, who would talk to exhibit-goers on the phone. Their only directive was to stay in character — they had to be from the future, but the environment they imagined could be anything they wanted.skl_051711_003The artwork later traveled to the New York Hall of Science for their Regeneration Show (walkthrough below)

This was a one-way mission for many of my sculptures, as they were fragile to begin with and 4 months at an Interactive Science Museum decimated the work. I knew this would happen. I always viewed the sculptures as temporary. I was even able to save some money on shipping costs. The artwork, after all, came from the dump!

skl_051811_001_prsThe blueprints survived, as well as a rebuilt versions of the Universal Mailbox and the 2049 Hotline, which I will continue to exhibit. The 2049 project and my 4 months at the dump was a lesson in attachment to material things, which flow from hands to hands and eventually to landfill and hopefully, sometimes, to art.