“…It is helpful to think of information like water. At a molecular level, it is invisible and imperceptible to the human eye, yet as being made in large part of water, we are literally swimming in dilutions of it every day,”
“Like water, information takes the shape of its container…. Like water, information circulates through human-made networks oriented to fulfill communal needs. Like water, information is measured, dammed, bought and sold, regulated and recycled. Like water, information has a value in global circuits of trade.”
“Yet though the idea of information flowing like water is helpful, it does not go far enough to depict the complete malleability of information, nor does it accurately reflect what Manuel Castells has articulated as the power of information flowing through networks.”
Banality is a problem of late capitalism, a capitalism of macroeconomics, and an effect of material culture. Closely bound up with notions of boredom, the banal is a kind of shorthand for those routines and value systems of high capitalism that are as annoying and trivial as they are obligatory. As a photographic aesthetic or style, banality could be described as a kind of post-industrial realism.
(Boredom, Repetition, Inertia: Contemporary Photography and the Aesthetics of the Banal, Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal Vol. 37, No. 4, a special issue: THE PHOTOGRAPH (December 2004), pp. 167)
The works listed in this exhibition create a story through displaying focused photography on urban infrastructure like parking lots, stores, pools, water towers and apartments while also diving into scenes of workplace and the dinner table. The image curation aims display a visual diaspora that engages in socio-political questions and displays the human impact on the topography.
WA: I am fascinated by the river which is knowledge. Everything flows, the mating cycles of sea turtles, architecture in the colonial Andes, dictatorship within the circuitry of the old Soviet Empire, palpable life in the oceans of Europa… For instance, I was sitting in my reading room one late afternoon and became fascinated by a momentary dust beam, a thin ray of light which illuminated particles of dust, dreamlike, without transition opened up a National Geographic sitting next to me, and opened to an article on Albania. The trance of the dust beam transmuted to language which symbiotically meshed with Albania and its experience with its long term dictator Enver Hoxha. Which resulted in my poem Albania & The Death of Enver Hoxha. In this sense I remain unchartable even in terms of my own recollection. One stays in a state of what I would term poetic alertness. It is, of course hearing at the level of nths, of constantly wafting like a hawk in an ozone of savour, which, when combined, with natural curiosity, the unexpected transpires.