What fascinates me most about the mirror-window installation is the interplay it allows between the viewer’s curiosity and the artist’s ability to explain, at least in part, the motivations behind the art created. I love to hear what artists have to say about their work, but rarely do I get this chance while dynamically viewing the art, and never through the very act of my own interaction. I have seen (and been a part of) interactive installation pieces, but I have not seen interactive installation art that reveals the artist’s thoughts and processes within the art object itself. I have seen only the under-painting, as it were, as it has floated to the surface: a strong texture painted over by the surface ornamentation, a solid framework beneath a gauzy film of color and light. With this piece, I hope to make that framework shine through the overlay to the viewer, but only if that viewer has the desire to bridge the distance—both literal and metaphorical—between us.
Initially I conceived this idea as a sculptural installation piece: a giant canvas, covered in all manner of mixed media—acrylic paint, embroidery, vinyl cutouts, found objects—behind which would be a layer of transparent material, printed or painted with words and sketches. Behind these twin canvasses would be a marvel and a nightmare of engineering: a giant array of white LED lights, wired up to a small circuit board that is programmed by computer and then detached to run programs all by itself. A doable project, certainly, but massive and prone to faults: loose wires, non-conductive solder joints between components, burnt-out lights, and the simple problem of getting the whole contraption to stand up nicely, stay together, and achieve the clean aesthetic I so desired. I then realized that I could achieve the effect I wanted with an entirely digital setup. Moreover, I could add to my piece the enormous depth that a time variable provides and satisfy my craving for more experiments in animation at the same time. Thus was born the digital installation.
