I am here.
I am there.
I am nowhere.
I am there.
I am nowhere.
A yellow human drifts. What am I?
Across oceans, rivers, cities.
Across a spinning, endless map.
Flatten the world into squares I can hold.
I follow. I click. I move without moving.
Lost.
Presence fluids into distortions.
Pixels become rice paper.
Rice paper becomes sandstone.
Sandstone broken into industrial shape.
Stone mounted on cork.
The digital presses against the material.
The image insists on weight, texture, presence.
And yet I am absent. Do they actually exists?
Water pulls me — familiar, vital, flowing - just me.
But always remote.
I trace it with a finger.
I touch it with stone.
I cannot enter it.
Displacement everywhere:
Body from place.
Virtual from real.
Perfect image from decaying world.
Frozen moments pressed into industrial squares.
Traces of places I never truly reach.
Will they whisper to me?
Random Waters is the echo of absence.
The tension of presence.
A mapping of tension of simulation.
The impossibility of being in the world and only seeing it through a screen.
Tangible or not?
Like taking sand to the beach,
Am I sand or a beach?