“State-of-the-Art Virus” is a conversation between a doctor and the first computer-augmented human to contract a digital virus. From mechanical prosthetics to neural implants, I think that humans are heading towards a physical synthesis with the technology we’ve come to depend on. Yet, this synthesis opens us up to a slew of new ailments, which may one day result in such a thing as prescription antivirus. Additionally, there’s an interesting parallel in the fact that malware infections in medical equipment has become a big problem in recent years.

The doctor’s chair has a straight back and a professional appearance, with slight, soft curves to suggest an organic element. The patient’s chair is a corrupted version of the doctor’s chair, whose warped effect was inspired by a distorted cabinet designed by Italian designer Ferruccio Laviani. Due to it’s viral nature, the patent’s chair is not meant to be interacted with. In the final design, both chairs will have another pair of support beams closer to the bottom of the legs to increase stability.

As for the setting, I was looking for something minimalist, well lit, and sterile. Yet, I was captivated by the paint splatters in this alcove and the rust stains on the staircase, as they incorporate the chaotic entity of the virus into an otherwise clean environment. This location is meant to be a secluded corner of a hospital, where the doctor and patient anxiously discuss what can be done to combat this new ailment.

Goodbye Box

Ever have one of those weeks when you’re so frustrated that you just want to jump off a bridge? This past week I sure did. “The Embodiment of Frustration” is a piece that encompasses my struggle with negative feelings and emotions.

Overall, creating this piece was immensely therapeutic. The process began as I was leaving Doherty late Wednesday night. Upon exiting the building, I was greeted by cold autumn rain. I had no umbrella, hood, or plastic to cover my project. I was so beaten down by this point that I decided to accept the situation for what it was and trudge through the rain.

When I got back to my dorm, drenched from head to toe, I knew that I needed to find a creative outlet in order to feel better. I decided to express my frustrations in a physical way by writing horrible, disgusting thoughts onto lotus leaves made from cardboard and Masonite. I utilized the materials stylistically by writing my less-significant problems on cardboard leaves and more impactful issues on Masonite. After expressing over 75 negative thoughts, I broke each leaf in half and put them in the box. This box now embodied my negativity and emotions, but wouldn’t contain them completely because of the holes cut into the sides.

After creating this landscape, I created a series of photographs depicting environments I associate with the negative energies now represented by this box. The use of this object in each space allowed me to view my negativity from a different perspective. In an act of liberation, I ended the series by throwing my problems off a bridge. This brought about a feeling of liberation and closure.

“Building Bones” describes the natural components and behaviors in nature. Every creature is made of millions of little building blocks, often which are much simpler than the organism they create as a whole. Schools of fish swimming together create a parallel example. Each fish comes from a combination of little bones. When they swim together, they confuse predators and protect each other. Components in a creature work together like schools of little fish to function as well.

For my project, I created many variations of bones and pieced together the simple bones to create complex little creatures. Arranged in a fluid pattern, creatures create a larger fish as a whole. In my opinion, “landscapes” can also be alive, non-static, as long as it contains components that contribute the the picture as a whole.  The way my bone creaters move together suggest a constantly moving “landscape”, effected by outside forces.

“The Seedling” tells the tale of the life cycle of a world, beginning and ending with a small circular seed which represents the potential for life. As the world grows, ages and dies, it moves through several stages: the plant stage, the plant and people stage (people represented by their buildings and cities), the people stage (which could also be called post-plant), and the post-people stage. Plants and buildings evolve from page to page. Because civilization is part of the same continuum as nature, rather than being opposed to it, they are represented with artistic styles unified by their focus on the circle. The entire piece is constructed in the form of a semi-circular pop-up book. The repetition of circles is meant to metaphorically reference many round or cycling forms: planets, seeds, the universe, the cycle of seasons, the cycle of a day, and the cycle of life. Just like a planet, however, only half of the circle is ever in full light, though the half in shadow can be seen as each layer of paper casts its form on the layer beyond.

This piece uses 98 pieces. It is focused on the number seven, which was inspired by the Biblical story of creation in which the world was created in seven days. This world is not only born but also lives and dies in seven pages, the last page reverting it to its original seed-like form. Since the metaphorical circle is divided in two, seven is raised to the power of two and multiplied by two to obtain the total number of pieces. Also, if the pieces which form the title on the cover are not included, there are 77 pieces, which is literally two sevens written next to each other.

Paper was chosen mostly for its practical and aesthetic aspects–foldability and colors reminiscent of a flame flaring brighter and brighter before dying down again in the darkness of space–but also because of its tradition use in pop-up book format. This project is a book because books imply a sequential format, and it is difficult to view multiple pages at once, though the book can always be re-read (giving it a cyclical nature).

“The Seedling” is ultimately about hope. I offer hope that even after humanity is gone there will still be the potential for life, growth, and wonder in the universe.

How would it feel if you knew there was always the possibility someone was watching you? In the climate of today’s privacy and information security crises, this imaginary landscape is perhaps not so strange. In the panopticon, you are held captive. A constant presence over you are the ones within the tower, watching- but you cannot see them. The chains of physical imprisonment are replaced by ones of manipulation and fear, and there is no escape.

This panopticon is constructed from 131 pieces of clear and black acrylic. 131 is appropriate being both prime, reflecting the harsh concept which this piece explores, and palindromic, reflecting the symmetry of the piece. By far the most common shape used is the triangle- the visual strength of this polygon, and the sharp angles allow for the sculpture to take on a fortress-like form. The clear pieces represent everything that is under watch, especially the upright triangles immediately surrounding the center tower. These pieces are the only ones without symmetry in their orientation, as they represent the prisoners within the panopticon. The opaque black pieces represent those who are watching, and who cannot be watched themselves. These pieces are concentrated into two areas: the center tower, from which all of the “prisoner” pieces might be viewed, and the small pieces along the outside ring, which serve to convey the idea that there is no escape from the panopticon.

(more…)

“Earth’s Bones” is about soil erosion due to deforestation. By combining the shapes of a human rib cage and a mountain, this work intends to drive home the idea of a future where humans have taken so much form the environment that it has become barren, and is thus unable to sustain life. In the first six pictures, a white background is used to denote the sterility of the bone mountain, as nothing can grow due to the loss of topsoil. The last picture shows the contrast between the bone mountain and a healthy hillside, highlighting how much we have, and how much we have to lose.

The total number of parts in this piece is 98. Of significance are the 13 pieces making up the base, which create 12 pairs of ribs connected by a spine to create a rib cage. According to New York’s City Waste Services, recycling a ton of cardboard saves 17 trees. Thus, there are 17 cardboard trees on the mountain, in a misguided attempt to turn the cardboard back into trees that succeeds in form, but not function. On the topic of materials, Masonite was chosen for the bone mountain due to its color, which emulates the characteristic brown tone of dinosaur bones often seen in museums. Coincidentally, the joinery used to make the ribcage was inspired by the dinosaur models one can find at museum gift shops.

(Upon further research, the 17-tree figure many not be as accurate as previously thought.)