This project is tangentially related to my explorations on the topic of death and the digital. It is a work in progress.
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I collect shells. Usually they’re sea shells, but sometimes they’re the kind that wash up on urban sidewalks. Here’s one–it’s the shell of a 1998 CRT computer monitor:
A shell is a void that used to be filled with life. It’s a former home, a remnant of a creature’s existence. Can we think about computer shells in the same way?
After all, our lives are very much wrapped up in computers: they store our most important memories, contacts, documents… we use computers to connect to loved ones, conduct business, and learn about our world. For many people computers are an extension of one’s body and mind.
When people move out of their homes, things like papers, buttons, extension cords, and dust bunnies get left behind. What happens when a computer moves out of it’s shell? Is it in any way comparable to the human experience? What items would get forgotten or are purposefully left for the enjoyment of the next inhabitants?
I’ve begun to answer this question by arranging physical versions of common computers screen icons inside of the monitor. I want these objects to be seen as evidence of the digital creature that used to inhabited that space.
