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width = belonging
Width is the dimension of our social, relational being. The Lakota people say Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ (all my relations). Feel the energy around you: people, animals, trees, sun, moon, the cosmos. Notice your body expanding. This is the dimension of belonging. All day, our bodies react to social situations by expanding and contracting, reshaping to fit in.
Philosophers Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari wrote, “We know nothing about a body until we know what it can do, in other words, what its affects are, how they can or cannot enter into composition with other affects...” Affect (form and capacities) is shaped in relation to the people and social forces
around us. Your network includes your family, friends, neighborhood, institutions, and social norms that enforce various expectations. Services, systems, and labor practices distribute penalties and privileges to people based on their bodies.
Robert Wechsler’s project Meta-Interview critiques verbal supremacy and celebrates nonverbal bodies. This interactive exhibit invites two people to have a conversation; words and gestures are translated into sound and light. The installation matches movements produced by the eyes, mouth, hands, eyes, or entire body with soundscapes and fluid light patterns.
camera 1
2 chairs, upholstered in conductive cloth
4 speakers
camera 2
META-INTERVIEW
Three networked computers, located in another room, employ eye tracking, motion tracking, touch sensors, and music control.
depth = time
Finally, consider the dimension of depth. Lean back slightly and feel the presence of your ancestors, mentors, and past experiences. Notice the back
of your head, shoulders, hips, and—when you
are ready—the cavern of your heart. This is the dimension of time. Feel yourself emerge at the intersection of past and future—fully embodied in the present moment.
My history included discovering the field of disability studies and learning about the Civil Rights movement and Disability Justice. I became a graphic designer in the seventh grade, the day I created a sticker for my Led Zeppelin cover band. I was sixteen when I took my first design class, at a local art school. My instructor, Wo Jo, fanned out a stack of Raygun magazines, designed by David Carson, and I was immediately excited by Carson’s spliced, jagged, messy constructions.
Later, I met the artist Neil Marcus, whose performances celebrate the idiosyncratic movements and contours of his own body. Seeing Marcus’s collaged, self-published zine Special Effects made me think of Carson. Back when I was a teenager, I must have sensed a tacit link between my body and Carson’s unruly typographic style.