distance makes the heart grow fonder

Distance, created by Tina La Porta in 1999, is an experiment in digital writing that collages web cam photographs with fragments of faux or cliché poetic language such as “interaction is immediate/leaving traces on her screen.” (I feel like I have to make a disclaimer here and say the language leaves a lot to be desired—personally I feel Distance would be a much more interesting image-only work). The images play with shades of light and dark and their power to simultaneously conceal and reveal. In this case though, light and dark are primarily used by La Porta as a means of concealment; the photos contain pieces of bodies, faces that are partially obscured whether that be by shadow, washout, or the physical rupture/fracture of the web cam frame. Also, when whole faces are presented (and often close up to the camera), their expression, accessories (like sun glasses), or posture prevents the viewer from interpreting them. The idea of face as mask in this context of connection and distance is quite interesting actually, and for me, raises two particular questions: “how can one ‘trust’ the body or interpret it correctly?” and “assuming translation errors constantly happen in personal interaction, what’s going to happen with you have this obscuring technological filter (or several filters) situated between you?” Immediately the first frame of the work draws attention to the artificiality of the medium and the difficulty of “connection” where we get the obscured profile of a woman (possibly named Susan) entering a chat room and the words “Ready to make a connection, she logs on” underneath it. At first, the image looks indiscernible, then through whitewash the nude back of a woman, then finally my eye found her hands on a keyboard and the profile suddenly came into view. (Some of these are almost like a magic eye poster where the larger image only comes into view after a certain amount of familiarization). Throughout the piece there’s nothing fast, immediate, or easy about connecting—and even when you think you’ve discovered what the collage hides you’ve got to deal with fragments, both linguistic and imagistic. Plus there’s another layer of complexity: the people in the photos are trying to connect and you’re trying to connect through them, viewing their attempt at connection. There’s something very voyeuristic and inherently intimate about the work especially these more vulnerable moments of nudity—chests, breasts, stomachs, legs etc, where I felt like I was a trespasser. That I think is an interesting dynamic that could have been explored a bit more—what makes someone uncomfortable and why. It’s strange because you can have some kind of real time physical intimacy—chat, reveal yourself on camera etc, but there’s never a consummated touch. Here even when a connection is made so to speak, they’re ultimately left to ask “when will you be on again?” They’re both tied to the technology and isolated by it; they’re only able to wonder what their voices sound like, what their rooms look like.