Inversions is an ongoing art/research project into design, technology and control.
The internals of things tend to be more interesting than the surface. But its the surface that affects us, the part that we interact with, the things we recognize and form bonds with. Surfaces - of both hardware and software kinds - have a continuous low-key control of most things in our lives. Not in an ominous sense, necessarily. But in the sense that most everyday things we do is mediated by surfaces.
Something like "Playing PlayStation" becomes a complex interaction of multiple surfaces - screens, controllers and software - with the ultimate goal of releasing hormones that we then process and take apart into excitement, joy, release, frustration and whatever other feelings we are prone to interpret into that particular burst into our brains. Systems within systems and layers of technology - some of the more complex things that humans tend to make, like microprocessors and simulated intelligence in software. We press the button on a surface, the system interprets this and gives us pixels that delight us. Complexity and all those layers of technological interpretation and representation distilled to us pressing a button a receiving an emotion in return. The surface represents us this - not a PS-controller, but a surface to an emotion feeding system.
The innards are forgotten, ultimately the system becomes its surface. And the surface becomes indistinguishable from the reaction we have to the system.
Our interactions with these surfaces (and through them the systems they are tied to and ultimately, the world) are often defined and well thought out, sometimes less so. And regardless of whether there was an attempt of designing said interaction or not, living beings are utterly unpredictable in their input and output which leads to unexpected results. A system designed to delight has the possibility of infuriating through a poor interaction or an unsuitable surface. Sometimes our human end interpreter sours to particular interactions - the easy burst of endorphins of videogames becomes a pang of shame for not doing something 'more productive'.
The immediate nature of transmission and the opportunity for confusing results makes these surfaces and interesting subject of exploration. Taking objects of technology and bursts of emotion they cause, I try to map the border between exterior and interior - spilling the guts out from within the surface in order to highlight it.
Inversion #4 - Mixed media (Frame + Joystick)
"When we were little we always used to play a lot of Amiga with my brother when we got back from school. For a couple hours usually before our parents would arrive home, we'd be home alone playing. There was this week when one of our two controllers had broken, so we'd have to take turns, no multiplayer. I was being an asshole and not letting my little brother play, he would of course get incredibly angry. Angry to the point of screaming at me. By the end of the week I was at it again, not letting him play. This time not letting a peep at first, he walked into the kitchen and came back with a large cooking knife pointing at me loudly shouting me to let him play. My time to scream, scared I threw the only thing I had in hand at him - our only working joystick. I missed. It cracked. He put down the knife. We never told anyone, I don't remember how what we told our parents broke the controller. But we didn't get to play that weekend."
Inversion #5.1 - Mixed media (Frame + cable casing + screws)
"If you've ever completely taken apart something and attempted to put it together again without proper inventory of nuts and bolts, you'll realize how that last missing little screw found lying on the carpet can seem like a prized jewel."
Inversion #1 - Mixed media (Frame + gamepad)
"I've read of people getting mad at their gaming systems and breaking stuff. Like, people throwing wiimotes at TV:s. Sure, I get angry playing stuff as well but to become destructive? For sure that seems crazy. Or at least it was to me. I'd had a regularly terrible day, trying to unwind playing a few games. But the terrible day follows me into the game, loss after loss. I don't know why I keep playing, but usually you win after a match or two. Even if you lose a few, its really difficult sometimes to end on a loss. But this time, there is no easy matchup, no win. It feels a bit like exiting the body - I can feel myself squeezing the controller as tightly as I can but not exactly controlling myself. Twisting, left hand upward right hand downward until I hear the plastic crack a bit. Lifting the controller up in my right hand and throwing it into the ground with all my force. Pieces come loose. I regain control. I make myself a rule of not playing more than three losses in a row."
Inversion #8 - Mixed media (Frame, TFT-monitor)
"As a wimpy kid I had more friends online than away from my keyboard. Or, if not more, at least we were a lot more close with my online friends, which was always a bit difficult for the adults around us to understand. We'd talk all day from good morning to good night. So it was not at all odd for me, that my first romantic relationships would also happen over the internet. To me, sitting in the glow of a computer screen in the middle of the night equalled candlelit dates and unrivaled intimacy beyond physical boundaries."