Tilted poplar trees trying to straighten up in a lab, Alan Turing’s jokes and prophecies, a 18th century machine that utters “MA-MA”, the discarding of the words “discernible”, “underwear” and “sphagnum” as waste, the portrait of a machine learning system as a botanical artist, self-delusion at the service of the secret services.
Artificial is, in one of many possible definitions, something “whose source is not biological evolution but technological manufacture.” This simple statement presents us with several questions.
It quite irritated me, re-reading that I had called them “my” plants (in the previous photo journal post). Is that pronoun correct? Aren’t plants rather “ours”? Or don’t they belong to themselves?
Now I know plants can’t hear me. But we do breathe the same air and belong to the same soil.
The audio work is a recreation (or, unmachinization) of the timbral sounds of static by human-performed means: against slate, graters, bubble wrap, and electromagnetic frequencies captured from cellular devices and filtered.
Pieces of Information – Color-Changing Cephalopods, a Machine That Turns Itself Off and Other Stories
[From Occulto h: Limits, 2017] Industry creation a creation in the equation why why etc. Why equally 8X eight eight a ex and X Plus babe why am ex are the variables–Space–White why while ANB are the constants that had passed that headache asked that hand hey hey hey asked as us define devalue the value call of the variables.
[From Occulto 6: Life, 2019] “The marmot is the stupidest animal on earth”, said the ethologist, “it stands still for hours on end, contemplating the sun.” “The ethologist is the stupidest animal on earth”, said the marmot, “it stands still for hours on end, contemplating me.” – Enzo Costa
Remember those moments of careless strolling? An art known as Flâneuserie in literature. I have enjoyed browsing through bookshops, bars or museums, practicing my collectioneuse habit of picking up postcards on my way. Nowadays I am practicing #stayhome, and suddenly the image of people in plastic container pops to my mind.
The white mustard young plants look a bit messy and weak, but they’re thriving, and blooming. I sowed them about one month ago in the backyard of the apartment building where I live – a shady garden nobody took care of for a long time, but still inhabited by a vegetal and animal crowd.