As I watch my completed project on a flat, illuminated computer screen, I think about privilege. The privilege to see, to hear, to collect and experience this information that I have, in essence, created as a contribution to the knowledge of the Inter Network. Experience, and gaining knowledge, is a privilege. It is an opportunity to collect information through the inputs of our body, transitioning what goes in to thoughts, emotions, feelings, produced by our brains. Now, I am no neuroscience major, nor a musician, but the functionality of the human body, the capability of it, seems an orchestra. An orchestra that not all walks of life can partake in. An orchestra that has all key musicians, without a note off, without an instrument gone. Yet this is the privilege to observe temporality, and perhaps the privilege to observe permanence--i.e., touching--is not a privilege at all, but one shared by all walks of life.
I think back to Helen Keller--where all she had was touch. Where everything I have just created, becomes void. If I create in order to contribute to this world, is creating something that has no space in the physical world, really creating at all? If its ability to be lost is as simplified by the click of a mouse or a touch of a button, is this really creating at all? If its ability to transform is trumped by the prospect of forever deletion of what was before, is this really creating at all?
What is so easily created, is so easily destroyed--of fleeting nature.