#To create my own meaning from the intangible threads weaved around me

[kaiidos]

A sun at night, a phantom in the light, as is the preordained fate of us all. That we may give and take for all and nothing, yet see no reward in our achievements and reflection. Never do we live for ourselves. How tragic it is, that we are predisposed to create, yet never hold the time to do so.

[sablelab]

Roses for Valentine’s Day 3/6

DISCLAIMER:

 This AU Valentine story is a complete work of fiction and as such is an entirely fabricated tale created in my imagination.  *WARNING ...This chapter is NSFW or NC-17 towards the end.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

SYNOPSIS:

Jamie has turned up at Caitriona’s apartment just in time for Valentine’s Day after being away for several months. They have a lot of catching up to do.

  CHAPTER 3 

Soul meets soul on lovers' lips. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley

 When Claire returned to the living room once Geillis had left, she walked over to the coffee table, picked up her glass of wine and took a long sip. She was suddenly a little nervous being left in this virile man’s company.

“I was just about to sit down to have some dinner. Would you like to join me?” She asked, not able to look him in the eyes for fear that he would see a longing so profound for him that she wouldn’t be able to disguise her feelings.

Jamie felt the turmoil of her feelings all at sixes and sevens.   So, taking her hand in his, he gently rubbed his fingertips over the top of her fingers.  They trembled.   He felt every little nuance of the shudders that culminated where their hands joined and despite feeling her reaction to his touch, Jamie continued with more of the same. His eyes caressed Claire’s lowered face as his voice disturbed the silence with the soft sound of her name on his lips. It gave her goose bumps as each syllable was a caress to her ears. “I’d like that … Cl-aire.”

Another quiet moment passed, while Jamie gently stroked the soft skin on the inside of her wrist with his thumb. Claire curled her hand pressing her palm against his and linked her fingers with Jamie’s like two lovers entwined. The sensation of his sensual dance had her swooning and Claire could hardly breathe. Staring at their clasped hands, she heard the lilting sound of Jamie’s voice once more.  “Mo ghràidh?” She looked up with a tentative smile on her lips only to see this wonderful man smiling at her. They studied each other for a moment, the air around them thick with unspoken longing. Ever so quickly, Claire cast her glance down at their intertwined hands, her mind reeling with pictures of other parts of their bodies lovingly entangled. Jamie knew exactly what he was doing to her senses as he continued to caress her hand.  He only broke the silence when he spoke, but this time his words caught her off guard.  “What’s for dinner?” Looking up she saw the mirth and something intangible in his eyes. “It’s just my Lentil and Ricotta Cannelloni,” she replied softly. “Ah! I remember this dish. It smells wonderful.” “Thanks.” “I’m … hungry,” Jamie replied in a way that Claire was not sure of his meaning.  Catching her breath, she answered back, “O-kay … Sit down and I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly releasing her hands from his, Claire then made a quick exit to the kitchen to retrieve dinner and to try and steady her nerves. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie waited a few moments before he followed her into the kitchen where he found Claire standing with her hands on the kitchen counter staring at the bowl of pasta she had prepared. As he watched her, she took several deep breaths before reaching for the parmesan cheese to grate on top of the cannelloni. “Claire?”  Spinning around, she clumsily dropped the cheese and grater out of her hands onto the kitchen bench. Jamie couldn’t help smiling at her and slowly walked towards her with eyes that never left Claire’s face.  “Jamie … you startled me,” she replied righting the implements on the bench.  “Do ye need a hand?” “I’m fine … but perhaps you could carry the garlic bread over there to the table.” Jamie closed the distance between them until he was standing next to Claire so close that he could study her face. Then as he reached toward her, Claire’s eyes widened and her breath hitched in her throat.  She didn’t move … she couldn’t move. Feeling her gaze on him, Jamie slowly but determinedly lifted his head to meet her eyes.  He smiled roguishly, casually watching her face as he merely reached past her to where the said item rested on the bench. In doing so he trapped Claire with his body.

Nonchalantly, he picked up the bread showing it to her. “Is this it?” 

Claire’s mouth opened, but no words would come out. Her heart was pounding within her chest.  Glancing down at Jamie’s hands, then back up into his eyes meeting his piercing gaze, she eventually managed to stammer, “Y-yesss!”

Feeling the solid length of his body pressed to hers, Claire trembled with renewed desire. She had missed this intimacy between the two of them but now that Jamie was here it felt as if no time had passed at all between them.  Placing the platter back down on the bench, he reached out and held her by the shoulders, raising the tension in the room up a notch or two. Tightening his hold just a little, Jamie stood so close that their faces were almost touching. His eyes bored into hers as he watched Claire lick her lips and they followed the involuntary glide of her tongue moistening her mouth. Closing her eyes Claire tried to gather her composure for Jamie’s nearness always unnerved her and put her off-kilter, but tonight her nerves were frayed.  She tried to break free, then stopped when she realized she really didn’t want to break from his hold. 

Jamie held her up against the bench; their faces were mere inches apart. Their gazes locked with neither willing to disconnect. Studying her, Jamie gently raised his hand and caressed the side of Claire’s face brushing her hair back from her eyes. His touch affected her senses and she felt her face blush a bright red. Briefly closing his eyes, Jamie said nothing for a moment while he too struggled with his emotions. It had been months since he had seen her up so close and he was overwhelmed by Claire’s loveliness.  He just wanted to take a moment to breathe her in and reacquaint his body with the smell and essence and the beauty of this woman. Stirring feelings of arousal throbbed between his legs which seemed to happen every time he was near to her. The air around them seemed to grow hotter with a heat that had nothing to do with dinner that now was starting to cool on the bench.

Claire studied Jamie’s face too and her eyes filled with longing. Meeting her gaze, he concentrated on her face committing it to memory. Holding his hand gently against her cheek, he lightly caressed her skin with the back of his fingers. Claire was transfixed … rooted to the spot where she stood.  Jamie leaned in; his eyes were glowing with hunger.  Then curling his hand around the nape of her neck, he tilted her head back.

Seeing with her own eyes what she herself was feeling Claire closed them. 

Their lips touched. 

Pliant and supple, the brush of Jamie’s lips against hers was tender and soft, then … it was hard and demanding. He alternated kisses with passionate abandon and the gentle and rough caresses of his lips to hers sent her feelings into meltdown. His repeated kisses made her head spin causing a shiver of desire to wash over her. Claire’s breath caught in her throat but a moan escaped from her lips echoing in the room. They broke away for air but when Jamie kissed her again with a sweet tender kiss, she felt it right down to her toes. He moved in closer still, pressing his aroused body against hers. Claire felt the solid strength of his torso. It felt wonderful.  His hands rested on her shoulders then she felt them weave down her arms before lingering on her waist. Fingertips splayed her trim figure just before Jamie smoothed his hands over the curve of her hips pulling her flush to his lower body. Writhing, Claire couldn’t help but move sinuously against him. He kissed her earlobe, nipped it with his teeth then soothed the heightened skin with his tongue.  Winding her arms around his neck, Claire pulled him close, whispering against his mouth. “Jamie … Oh, Jamie I am so happy you made it home for Valentine’s Day.”

“Me too. I have missed ye my darling.”

Dinner was all but forgotten as the two embraced. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soft kisses between them quickly became something much more. Jamie glided his hands up Claire’s arms once again, threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her as if he would never stop. Her lips parted instantly giving him a taste of her honeyed mouth as he leaned Claire back against the kitchen bench pressing her closer to his body. Their kisses grew hotter, then deeper. Her nipples instantly hardened at his touch and a tingling heat spread through her body as waves of pleasure washed over her. Opening her mouth to Jamie’s kiss, Claire threaded her fingers through his hair holding his head captive.  He groaned. “How hungry are ye babe?” Then pushing a muscled thigh between her legs, he waited for her answer. 

Claire felt the hard thrust of Jamie’s erection against her and her breath caught in her throat. Reluctantly pulling her mouth from his, she trailed lingering kisses along his jaw, then his neck before whispering huskily against his mouth, “Very …”

The delicate scrape of her teeth across his lips made Jamie shudder with desire. Nipping his skin at every opportunity, her soft lips then travelled to his ear, breathlessly finishing her sentence, “… but not for food.” 

He felt the touch of Claire’s breath followed by her tongue caressing the sensitive skin behind his ear. Jamie closed his eyes.  Claire inhaled sharply and clutched at the front of his shirt when he slid his hands under the fabric of her blouse and discovered that she wasn’t wearing a bra.  Feeling the warmth of Claire’s silky, soft skin searing his palms his fingers explored at will. His hands roamed leisurely under her blouse, while his touch across her skin left sensation after sensation. Jamie next trailed his fingertips along the denim covering her inner thigh. He felt the restless shudder of her thigh muscles and when his fingers ventured to the juncture between her legs Claire closed them and held his hand prisoner, but released it when she wriggled with his next onslaught to her sensibilities. Jamie gathered her closer to his body inserting his hands back under her blouse. Stroking the length of Claire’s spine, Jamie’s hands finally rested against the curve of her bottom propelling her against his arousal.  “I lied …,” he replied letting his hands wander across the warm, pliant flesh of her body. “Neither am I.” Her tongue brushed against his in light forays of invitation. “I know …” Resting his head against her forehead Jamie responded, “I can think of something I want more.”  “Me too,” was her capitulating reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although Jamie’s words had thrilled her, the passionate assault to her senses that he was administering was unravelling her where she stood. Ever since he had surprised her in the kitchen, the stroke of his hands to her skin had exacerbated her heightened feelings of need. Claire felt powerless; her body had turned to jelly while her thinking capabilities had become incomprehensible. She just couldn’t think straight when Jamie touched her, but she could feel … and what he was doing to her senses was unbelievable. She felt every single slide, every touch of his fingers and every stroke of Jamie’s hands as they mapped her skin in renewal. But when he had cupped her bottom Claire nearly went to pieces. She’d capitulated easily and posed little resistance to his touch, not that she wanted to. Her sanity was in jeopardy, she knew there was no return and that surrender was inevitable.

Caught up in the moment, Jamie’s body began to swell as his erection grew more rigid by the moment. He rocked his hips between Claire’s thighs which intensified the growing ache she felt there. Rising up on her toes, she arched wantonly against him quivering with an unbridled lust she could not control. Reaching for him, Claire began to unbutton his shirt, but her thumbs were all sixes and sevens. Her fingers trembled in her haste to have the material gone so she could feel Jamie’s skin to her touch as well until he steadied her hands and helped her unbutton his shirt. 

Her hands quickly sought the warmth of his skin and Claire began to push the material from Jamie’s shoulders in desperate need. However, she stopped when she saw bruises on his chest. Her lips caressed the blackened marks with a tenderness that moved him. Looking up with unshed tears in her eyes Claire held his gaze and asked, “What happened?” “Nothing …” “It doesn’t look like nothing,” she persisted waiting for an answer.  All sorts of scenarios flashed through her mind from thinking that he may have been assaulted because of the case he was involved in to a simpler explanation, like a gym injury. “Let it go Claire … It’s just an accident I had at the gym … I’m okay.”

“Oh …”

Distracting her from his injuries and any further explanation, Jamie bowed his head and kissed Claire’s throat, lathing small nips along the column of her neck. She tried to resist, but his evasion methods worked. Moaning softly, her head fell back as he lathed her sensitive skin over and over. She shivered when Jamie’s chin rasped alongside the shell of her ear then Claire felt the soft touch of his tongue to her ear lobe. Her hands frantically reached for him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt as she tried in vain to remove his clothing. 

“I want …,” he muttered thickly, his breath like warm honey against her ear, “… you,” he eventually uttered tenderly.

Claire opened her eyes with her non-verbal reply. The feeling was mutual.  Exchanging teasing kisses, she kissed him gently sliding her tongue repeatedly between Jamie’s softly parted lips until they were both breathless.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  His hand sought the opening to her jeans and with deft precision Jamie opened the fastening as Claire moved away from the bench she was leaning on. He pulled the denim away from her body and down her legs. Tightening his hands on her hips he then lifted Claire up and placed her on the kitchen counter. He guided his hand up her thigh and between her legs ever so softly that the sensation caused Claire to rise up a little lifting her bottom as Jamie’s hand rubbed against her. His touch was magic and stirred her feelings of hunger for more … so much more, but Jamie merely continued the sublime slow torture. Claire barely had time to catch her breath before his fingers slid under her already moist panties to cup the damp curls between her legs. She felt one long finger tease and stroke her gently over and over. An aching moan rose in her throat and she arched her spine in the sheer joy of his touch. Removing the scrap of silk, Jamie exposed her warm flesh to the evening air until there was nothing between them but anticipation and the heat of desire.  Shivering, Claire sighed in regret at the loss of his touch. However, it wasn’t long before she once again felt his deft hands. This time Jamie tugged open her blouse revealing her glorious perky breasts and pulled her up against him. With quivering hands, she held on to her man’s shoulders, her nails digging into his skin leaving welts of marked passion. Claire’s head fell forward and he kissed her face amid the flowing tresses that blanketed them in a cocoon.  Exploring lips roamed her face. It felt as if he was everywhere all at once as spot fires smouldered all over her body. His teeth nipped her skin. Claire trembled. The feel of Jamie’s tongue to her flesh exacerbated the goose-bumps that rose wherever he went leaving a moist trail across her skin. His mouth slid down the column of her throat, past her breastbone and around her pebbled nipples until his hands cupped her taut breasts caressing them. Trailing kisses further down Claire’s chest, then across her stomach, Jamie sought the area where she was burning with a fever.  His head dipped lower until she felt his warm lips caress her throbbing mound. Gripping his head to her body, Claire moaned in the agony of the pleasure he evoked. “Ja-mie … Oh Jamie,” she cried out in supplication. He continued to anoint her as his tongue sought refuge in her pooling depths. Erotically stroking her, Jamie delved deeper. He sensually lathed her folds and teased her sensitised nub backwards and forward.  His tongue suckled; his teeth closed briefly over her nub, not hard enough to be painful … but with just the right amount of pressure to send Claire into spasms. Writhing in an uncontrollable pleasure, his lovemaking nearly brought her to the brink.  So lost was she in her own feelings that she was unaware that Jamie had left her to her own pleasures as he quickly removed his clothing. Moving back between her spread legs; he edged forward until he was poised at the entrance of her moist depths. Suddenly her knees went to water and her legs went all wobbly. Jamie wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist to support her on the bench. His love was in the throes of passion and he watched her succumb to her body’s arousal, then passion glazed eyes half opened to collide with his penetrating stare.  “Cl-aire.” The sound of her name on his lips called to her from within the foggy recesses of her mind. Edging even closer, Jamie held her tightly as he lunged slipping smoothly into her. Claire’s eyes captured his at the very moment she felt his shaft slide along her walls. She gasped arching her body against him as Jamie completely filled her until he was enclosed snugly within her depths.

He paused for a moment, then … he moved. 

She moved with him.  Jamie drew back almost sliding all the way out of her and Claire tried to stop him by driving her hips to capture him again. Half rising from the kitchen bench and uttering a guttural moan, Claire lifted her hips dragging Jamie back to her. He thrust harder, then deeper, and she welcomed him home savouring the sensual feeling of reconnectedness. Again, and again, he thrust, moving his hips in a rhythm that Claire matched stroke for stroke. Increasing the tempo, Jamie held her tightly against him as he brought them both to the edge of surrender. With each hard, quick thrust, he pushed her across the bench, while the sound of their coupling merged with the moans emanating from Claire’s throat.  Their lovemaking had never been this intense or this feral. Jamie had a mind of his own and Claire went along for the ride, a more than willing participant. With no qualms or regrets … just pleasure … sheer pleasure they made love as if there was no tomorrow. Circling her legs around his torso she dug her heels into Jamie’s flexing buttocks. He was incapable of stopping the rhythm of his movements and with repeated fluid thrusts, their movements bordered on frenetic. He claimed his Claire again … and again … and again in a wild tempo of his total possession until he felt the swelling need for release. Unable to control his libido, Jamie finally surged up against her, exploding uncontrollably.  Climaxing repeatedly, she too cried out in ecstasy. The sensations she felt were like a kaleidoscope of lights permeating her brain. The lights of the city had just materialised before her very eyes but the view was better … so much better because when she opened them … she saw James Fraser lost in his own euphoric feelings.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Claire’s head slumped against him and Jamie tightened his arms around her hugging her closely to his chest. Placing a kiss against her lips, perspiration dripped from their bodies while their rapid breathing echoed in the still of the apartment. It was useless to try and control their emotions, for what they had just experienced was mind blowing. Jamie shifted sightly but Claire wrapped her arms around his neck not wanting to let him go, then with an intense look of wonder, she captured him in a loving embrace. Her buttocks were sore but her body felt wonderful even though the bench was cold and uncomfortable.  Drawing his love up to his body, Jamie gently lifted her from the bench top once his breathing had returned to some normalcy and carried her into her bedroom. The lights of the city twinkled in the evening sky like jewels on a bed of velvet … but neither of them noticed the view from Claire’s bedroom. They fell to the covers of her soft bed still entwined.  “Is this more comfortable?” Jamie whispered in her ear.  “Oh …Yes,” she agreed in breathless anticipation pulling him down to her.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* to be continued

Thanks for reading and I hope you are enjoying my Valentine story. xox

[precioustexture]

Week 7 - “I am... I like... I want to...” Assignment Reflection

Don’t leave me to my own devices began with the examination of the half-statements “I am... I like... I want to...” -- definitive statements in response to far more complex questions such as who am I, what do I like, and what do I want to do. How does one compartmentalise and communicate self through responses to a few statements? To merely provide a litany of information would contribute to the “incessant bombardment” of information we face in this day and age.

““[W]e’re suffering from brain fade. [...] The flow is constant, […] Words, pictures, numbers, facts, graphics, statistics, specks, waves, particles, motes.” - Don Delillo, White Noise

Social media teaches us that identity may be reduced to skeins of demographic information -- name, age, sex, gender, occupation, education, country -- drop-down boxes, interests, likes, memes, images, video, status updates. We decimate ourselves to the basest components of being and hand ourselves out as data. The sense of self we occupy on online platforms are both replete with identity and absolutely vacant of it. 

To explicate identity, especially digitally, is an inherently futile exercise -- attempt to elaborate self and one contributes only to the noise, the intangible qualia of self dissipates digitally to no consequence. Yet it is these failed attempts at claiming and documenting identity that live on online almost forever -- destined to outlive us. 

“It’s hard to look at things directly. They’re too bright and too dark. Sometimes we need to see things through a screen. On one side of the screen memories fade. On the other, they glow forever.” - Wong Kar-Wai, There’s Only One Sun

My project centres around the idea of the digital dissipation of self -- a series of artistic experiments on various social media platforms, viewing each as vessels through which identity is distorted and expressed. Each platform (Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook) is characterised by a key trait (tabula rasa, text, image, sharing), and the artistic experiment meditates upon each trait.

Don’t leave me to my own devices.

Don’t leave me to my own devices 2017 Social media platform interfaces, scanographs, moving image, hyperlinks  Dimensions variable 

I viewed this project as a digital wunderkammer -- a strange collection of artefacts of self scattered across multiple platforms, displayed within the vitrines of the online interface. To unify these multiple platforms, I created a landing page through which the project would be framed in. 

http://xilitlachild.tumblr.com/clickme

A digital collage was created for the landing page, acting as a formalistic reference to Olia Lialina’s My boyfriend came back from the war (1991). Using a self portrait and photographs I had taken in the past, images were edited to become pixelated, monochromatic abstractions of their original selves. These serve to communicate the same dichotomous sense of repletion and emptiness of self, digitally: the artwork contains traces of self and identity, but they are abstracted, distorted to a low-fi state of irrecognition. These were framed with cutting grey lines reminiscent of browser windows; a statement on the compartmentalisation of identity.

[Olia Lialina’s My boyfriend came back from the war (1991), which the digital collage on Don’t leave me to my own devices’ landing page references]

The directory allows you to navigate the works in certain order: preamble (It all pieces together), the artistic experiment with Tumblr (White Cube Series), then Twitter (Words fail us), Instagram (Images fail us), and Facebook (Man hands on misery to man). Who is the Xilitla Child?

A thread throughout the works within Don’t leave me to my own devices is the character of the Xilitla Child -- a false identity developed for this project, viewed as one of many permutations of self. Acting as reference to Rosa Menkman’s Xilitla (2014), I was intrigued by the real-world location of Xilitla which Menkman’s digital work was inspired by -- specifically, the garden of Las Pozas filled with surreal structures in the midst of a tropical rainforest. I was fascinated by the image of a child in the middle of this surrealist dreamscape and played with the idea of a child caught in a liminoid space between surreal physical landscape and distorted digital realm -- the concept of identity as both manifest online and off and the distortions and absurdities this entails.

I developed a simple logo of sorts for the Xilitla Child; a kind of visual symbol for the project across platforms.

Preamble.

It all pieces together 2017 Single-channel video 2 min 25 s

The first work to be experienced is a short video essay It all pieces together which considers the act of experiencing art as a personal experience and the futility of attempting to record these experiences down. Just as we struggle to capture the essence of an identity, the nebulous nature of art escapes being pinned down and explicated precisely. This serves as the preamble to the rest of the works.

Created by editing together various decontextualised inserts from past narrative short film projects I have undertaken, the video takes on personal significance -- weaving together images in a dreamlike fashion, it mimics a stream of consciousness, or the process of retrieving distant memories.

Tumblr.

White cube series: .1: deluge 2017 Scanograph 35.8 x 16.6 cm

White cube series: .2: grey forest 2017 Scanograph 34.7 x 15.3 cm

White cube series: .3: formation 2017 Scanograph 20.6 x 11.9 cm

On Tumblr we curate the visual artefacts that become us – a deliberate arrangement of aesthetics in an attempt to stabilise volatile identities. Because of the openness of the platform to me, I reimagine the interface as a white cube – a gallery space where works are displayed cleanly and neatly; meant as symbols of self.

[Selected brochures to create distorted scanographs]

To create the images, I selected from the collection of brochures I have amassed from attending various exhibitions and events. Dragging them over the surface of a scanner while it attempts to capture a document creates a highly distorted scanograph, or a scanner photograph. I touched these images up and named them in relation to the different elements of nature they reminded me of.

In this sense, past art experience become transferred into the digital realm in a distorted fashion -- abstracted into visual form. The references to natural images further emphasise the power these experiences hold as an active force within one’s life.

Twitter.

As a platform using text as the main means of communication, the work interrogates the idea of words and language and their ability to communicate, particularly in the digital sphere. More specifically, it dwells on the idea of the failure to communicate with words.

Inspired by Internet artist Glitchr, I wanted to replicate this symbolic corruption of the Twitter page through text. I thus drew upon the false identity of the Xilitla Child to create an account for such an experiment. Using glitch text generators, I experimented with various ways in which text within tweets could spill out into page. The failure to communicate does not necessarily mean a message has not been put across -- perhaps it just means it emerges in a strange distorted fashion. It spills out and affects the space around it, but how or why isn’t clear.

Instagram.

As a visual medium, Instagram is used to interrogate concepts of photographic truth as myth; the function of aesthetic beauty, and the tenuous link between real and imagined.

Images fail us 2017 Instagram interface, video Dimensions variable

A series of short video works, the delicate, sensuous image of fabric billowing in wind is paired with quotes that confrontationally deal with the ideas of image, aesthetic beauty, consumerism, and representation. A juxtaposition between enticement and antagonism that forces us to engage with the visual culture we find ourselves immersed in today.

I created this by selecting various texts that relate to the idea of the image and representation. Inspired by Inflammatory Essays by Jenny Holzer, I edited text and overlaid it over clips of billowing fabric -- completely capitalised, starkly positioned over the screen. Using image editing software, sound effects, and video-editing, I created a glitch effect that would overwhelm the image over time; dominating the lo-fi lullaby, chime-like music that each video begins with. 

[Jenny Holzer, Inflammatory Essays (1979-82)]

This plays with the idea of our innocent acceptance of images and its eventual descent into noise, saturation, and meaninglessness; replete with falsehoods and emptiness.

Facebook.

Here, the platform is associated with the act of sharing -- of handing down information. We show our support for articles, headlines, images, videos that we approve of with a simple click -- a most convenient, non-committal means of expressing identity.

I was interested in the creation of another manifestation of identity for this experimentation with the Facebook platform. Referencing K. from The Trial by Franz Kafka, I created Kay Landmesser, a fictional entity that would be the embodiment of my experiment.

Utilising image editing software, I edited the background of an existing photo of my self standing before regular buildings to one before a landscape of sand dunes and exposed earth -- a simplistic representation of the land surveyor.

This image would hence become my profile picture for the false account -- a visual manifestation of falsehood and imagined character.

Man hands on misery to man 2017 Facebook interface, hyperlinks, text Dimensions variable

Through the creation of this false character, this artistic experiment charts my attempt to immerse myself in the identity of Kay, taking up a subject position disparate from the self. Processes of identity immersion/perpetuation through Facebook become heightened and deliberate – how does the sharing of articles, images, and links reveal one’s identity? Can we possibly attempt to replicate the underlying thought processes and selection of this material for another individual? Are we able to truly grasp the intangible qualia of a person even through the digital sphere based on the act of sharing and handing on information? Can we reverse-engineer identity based on selection of information and material?

As I shared more videos, articles, and statuses based on what I imagined this false character would, it became clear how difficult it was to attempt to mimic such intuitive processes of sharing and handing on information that an individual deems important. I was further attracted to the visual language of the posts I shared -- mostly related to civil engineering and technical tools related to land surveying. Such fields were so distant from my interests that such information felt distanced, surreal, displaced from the world within which I exist in. 

It emphasises to me the disparity in the information each individual receives; so fine the data and details and demographics that we often never see swathes of information not relevant to our construction of self.

Conclusion.

The stuttering leaps between interfaces, intertextual references, and identity notes thus allow my Internet artwork to communicate the various fragmentations of identity, digitally dissipated over platforms.

To evaluate, I do feel my work relies a lot more on explanation of processes. Should one experience the work alone without descriptions of processes and write-ups, the themes and concepts may not have been so intuitively communicated. As such, write-ups are present within the work itself, which may reduce immersivity of experience.