Cursor, from the Latin root meaning run or runner. A cursor is a movable, blinking figure that indicates the position on a screen where the next character will appear, or where user action is needed."

Cursors are identities in crisis. They are bodies motivated by language, by users, by others. They move through space. They blink in tempo and race the hours. They speak in many tongues. They pause and backtrack. They search and destroy. They are black. They are fugitive. They dance. They are driven to make mistakes. They disrupt and revise our intended messages, our intended meanings. Like the queen piece in chess they move up, down, forward, back across the field of the text, but they are not the text. They misspell our perceptions. Perhaps they have a will of their own? This project is about the cursor and its many faces.

[the cursor] is body that is motivated by the production of language. The cursor is always one step ahead of the text, or like the Queen piece in chess, it moves forward, backwards, up and down, anywhere within the field of vision, highlighting the entire document, searching, finding and destroying the text, but it is not the text. Nor, on the other hand, can it fully escape the world of text, of naming, of pinning-down-in-language. A cursor blinks in a particular kind of pre-determined rhythm prescribed by algorithms of zeroes and ones, appearing, disappearing according to the choreography of the almighty Word program. Yet, with each user action, this stable rhythm can be interrupted, transformed by the shape of ones thought, the fumble of ones finger-action, the speed of ones keystrokes, the fart of ones brain. The free fall of a page break. The cursor is perhaps me or you, divided among so many languages. Like a contemporary dancer, it is asked to be fungible from choreography to choreography yet is never fully captured by the choreographys writing. The cursor is where, for me, language, movement, body and choreography come together to contend with each other.