From Chaos Comes Opportunity

The correct quote is 

In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.

It's attributed to Sun-Tzu, a military strategist from the Han Dynasty. He wrote The Art of War, a book filled with thoughts about warfare and battle. The amended version applies better to our current state of affairs; the expression Social Distancing is a perfect example. 

During the three or so years since we've taken uncertain paths in and around the COVID crisis, what's emerged is a panicked approach to communication. Before the pandemic, being taken seriously would mean jumping on a plane for a show of face. Now, turning on your computer mic and camera is sufficient.

Likewise, going to see art in a museum or gallery changed. Art became a fully personal experience since the pandemic closed the venues down. Once the doors reopened, we'd taken steps to make art accessible from devices and, with that, on-demand. 

Enter Augmented Reality. 

AR artists and technicians "built" backgrounds and conditional scenes in paintings to give viewers an interactive insight into artworks. Further, artists combine all kinds of still, motion and archived images to create scenes that can jump back and forth between past and present. This is of great interest: my work deals with reassessing the present by examining overlooked nuances. How convenient to have both instances at the same time...

A FB page called Mi Vieja Monteria proudly opens its page with an old image of one of the main drags showing a muddy avenue. Asking around about why it took so long for the town to pave its roads, the answer was simple: Monteria was--and continues to be--a cow town. Of course, now livestock gets around by truck; but then, the heavy animals couldn't possible walk around on anything other than mud. 

Just wondering what it would be like to add footage to some of the old roads....

The Journey Continues

The living room of a house in Monteria. It's slated for preservation. 

A memory popped into my head from long ago, which seems like yesterday. One of my genius designer buddies, came up with a small, hand-held folding viewer that could show kids their sports heroes--or any collection of images--in 3D. The lenses did all the work.  It was gorgeous, but no one picked it up to produce it commercially. 

Maybe it was ahead of its time, but, more likely, time jumped far ahead of it with digital video. At that point, he was still very interested in 3D imagery and worked with various investors and developers toward building a business.

Rather than the still image, AR has taken over. The super imposition of images from the personal device has the potential to draw in the viewer from their phone. Sound can easily be accessed, also from the phone.

Looking at the pieces out there, museums were the first to create apps so visitors could get background on the exhibits easily. We are screen-addicted, after all, and seeing a painting's source or the origins of an invention in real time gives a deeper, more fun experience. It's an avenue worth exploring as institutions of all kinds mine any possibility to increase attendance.

Numerous examples with a description live on Evergine.com, a 3D graphics development company. 

How this relates to Finding the Sky is that, with the help of the various archivists I've met, and additional access to available footage, I can link what I've already done to previous materials; if necessary I can shoot additional. What's interesting, and at the crux of this project, is not so much how things have changed in the life of the subject's life, but how much has not. Many of the AR art works I have seen so far deal with memory, history, the ability to go back and interact with what is irrevocably lost.

As I write the story board for my project, I keep thinking that a comparison is more appropriate, possibly because, in my eyes, so little seems to have changed.

(above) The second floor balcony. (below) The comedor (dining room).