get answers at a speed I could only dream of in my pre-digital life. But in my work I’ve been a little slower on the uptake. So much of the sensibility of my art has relied on what I could not easily do, both scale-wise and truth-wise. The digital world, of course, provides answers for me seamlessly, and I’ve had to be systematic about rejecting those answers and continuing to do things in my own flat-footed way. Even though I’m pretty well versed in digital-photographic technologies, I’m still holding on to film. I still feel there is some inescapable beauty and difference with that medium. Much of your work reflects upon various conditions of domesticity and confinement. How do you feel about the Internet? Does it feel infinitely expansive? If so, does that challenge the confined world? Or does it rather allow the “infinite” world to be confined as well? The Internet reminds me of a couple summers (many years ago) when I rented a big old crumbling house right on the Atlantic Ocean. By day I felt excited and infinitely connected to the rest of the world, but by night I was petrified. What I could take in and see in broad daylight made sense, but what I couldn’t see and could only imagine filled me with terror— hurricanes, tidal waves, pirates. The infinitely expansive part of the Web that I’m aware of (sexual predators, bizarre fringe political/religious groups, fake identities, and subversive websites/chat rooms) is actually kind of scary to me—I’m surprisingly uncurious about it all. The Web I use daily—the one that’s useful to me—feels like another small world where I can fulfill all my needs: gather information, find props, shop, write letters, make phone calls, read the paper. What I control, I’m completely comfortable with. 38
The Art World and the World Wide Web. Essays, Interviews and Case Studies.