Episodes.

We are witnessing a distinct period in America, one when social media effortlessly ushers to the national surface an immediate awareness of all that can be wrong with us.

Between the ascendent rapture of nationalistic racism coloring trepidatious political theater, and the actual, applied racism administered by myriad overparamilitarized local governments, and the rhythmically induced torpor of celebrity drivel, each interbuttressed with consequent communal outrage and adulation, the Internet and society feel rotted.

Vagary has become so normalized, precipitated into a reactionary amphetamine on which rapid-fire events flood a visual consciousness with gore, absurdity. What next? What possibly next?

Everything lately feels very, very episodic. Beyond soap opera.

Almost beyond control.

As artists, we must question our operations herein with the Internet social medium.

We must question, in general, whether screaming into the digital abyss actually harms us more than the continued emitted assaults toward which we can digivocally descend.

Do we simply recycle vitriol with each bump? Do we just help turn up the heat when it’s already sweltering?

Though we do find connection and comfort and maybe even revelation through these pipes, we must, perhaps, move ourselves away from these lightboxes, even if just a bit farther, abandon unconscious efforts for culling mentions and being liked. Amend our exposure. Step back rather than in.

And certainly it would help if we subvert.

¶ 2016·08·02