I was touring around the net try find some adhesive red film of the type
Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle used the foyer of his(her?) installation at documenta this year. It was amazing stuff, never have I actually felt anything like 'polarized' light before, although I'm not sure that's the correct word for the effect of the red-filtering. It was a blazingly sunny day outside.
I am looking for the film for my own red-filtered daylight work, but my interest is more about the low end of the visible spectrum than the doomsday political cajolery engaged in Manglano-Ovalle's work.
As usual I am making a substantial inquiry into the meaning of technology in this new installation at the Moran Museum. Generally my thesis calls for more methodical and far-reaching examination of the human/social/material factors active in 'new media'. An enquiry into who made the actual pieces of technology I use to make media art is central. Tomorrow I will shoot the construction of a wall by two workers hired by the museum, I will use an actress to represent myself, but still, I can already anticipate the frisson of recognition when the three interlocutors are with me and my cameras in the room, the real intractable destiny of these people tied with mine only for the most whimsical of moments. And then? And then becomes "who they were before they met you" Then it becomes: they might easily have never met you.
Back to the search for the red film, first of all, I found that this film is no joke. It is a serious petro-chemical product created by one of the most violent industries in this world of peace. I visited some sites of local companies who produce similar films where the (necessarily) sterile production facilities are exposed, modern and standardized. I could almost hear the owner of the film factory telling me proudly about the growth of his company, how they are able to produce at international standard now after 30 years of desperate catching up.
Korea wants to be comfortable, petro-chemicals are a good way. Later in the day I was wandering through the Kyobo bookstore looking for some texts to tie the last loose ends of my thesis. There were hundreds of people milling around in the store, but nobody was getting phased. Contentment reigns....and it is nice.
What? would I rather have all these people jostling and shoving each other for crumbs and gristle? No. This is peace. Peace is good. Peace is the only way. The price is incalculable. Is it even worth to begin the tally?
