We construct our myths. The origins of language lie at our fingertips.
The perfect translation does not exist and linguistic <b>material</b> could be wrongly interpreted. There is no guarantee of direct transfer or imprint. Without fail, the <b>material</b> will fail to tell the full story. Yet, processing continues over generations.
We inhabit grids. Society, community, family, ... They set out layers of common ground; syntaxes with which we communicate. The standardized, generalized nature of the grid is our reference point. We conform to it, or not. Textile-making happens over a grid, warped in any which way. The textile is the spoken accent of a community, with its own symbols and nuances. Each individual has their own handwriting.
Today we live a strange existence, torn between two grids of reality. The physical one is constructed by our senses. The <b>fabric</b> of our virtual spaces is composed, at its core, with binary code. We rely now on false sight: illusions of dimension. Can our digits keep up with the digital? If today’s textile-making is the weaving of the world wide web, will our hands still know how to manipulate the grid? Do we still have the vocabulary to construct our own myths? The more we automate, the further removed we are from what is.
<creatures:each of us encoded>
We split our genetic codes with flattened personas - conforming to automated systems, each time further removed from what is. With each additional layer, we are lost deeper in translation. Our avatars exchange data points. All more the same. All the more removed.
</creatures:each of us encoded>
Let us not forget the dexterity at our fingertips.