A satirical radio segment in very poor taste this afternoon suggested that an internet blackout in Syria was on par with other recent atrocities in that country. The mock-horror of the announcers reflected the way that our society views technology as vital, essential, indispensable.
Technology has become embedded in our lives (those of us who are lucky enough to have regular access, that is), and this has mixed results.
We have access to, and are also bombarded with, more information than any other generation in history. Tools for creation, such as recording and publishing, are widely available. Meanwhile, such tools develop and improve at such a rate that they are quickly outdated and relegated to trash. (I’ve raved about this before, in relation to phones).
The marvelous internet offers infinite connections between ourselves and others in faraway places, but can also entrap us in its addictive and furtive web. It collects and stores everything that we deposit into it, whether we like it or not.
The sculptures in these photographs feature in an exhibition by Marcus Tatton at the Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens. The work begs questions about technology and the digital world and its place in, or relationship with, nature. The scale of the sculptures reminded me of the first computers (check out this NASA analog “computer” from 1949).
I’m currently experiencing some mixed reactions to my own increased interface with information and technology. My inputs are blown, my focus is scattered. I’m not complaining, because I’m not entirely sure that all this technology is really essential, only very desirable.
I just wish there were more hours in a day, because I’m also bubbling with ideas, a phenomenon summarised in this excellent quote by Douglas Hofstadter:
“A deep immersion in anything makes you more creative.”