Oculus is a constellation of stone and glass mosaics in the underground labyrinth of interconnected subway stations of lower Manhattan. Over three hundred mosaic eyes, drawn from a photographic study of more than twelve hundred young New Yorkers, are set into the white tile walls of the World Trade Center/Park Place/Chamber Street Stations. The work’s centerpiece is a large exquisitely detailed, elliptical glass and stone mosaic floor (38 ft 8 in x 20’8”) at the heart of the Park Place Station. The continents of the earth, interwoven with the City of New York amidst an ultramarine pool, surround a large eye in the middle of the mosaic. The mosaic is at once a vision of the world, a reflecting pool of water and a representation New York City in its proper geographical orientation. The work’s detailed renderings of the eye – the most telling, fragile and vulnerable human feature – offer a profound sense of intimacy within a public place. Together, the images create a sense of unity and flow: animating, orienting and humanizing the station. Oculus invites a dialogue between the site and those who move through it. The former World Trade Center Station is situated at the northeast corner of the site. The station was flooded and closed to the public following the September 11, 2001 attack. The site was damaged but not destroyed, and it reopened eight months later with the work mostly intact. Oculus was recognized as “an unexpected monument” by the Wall Street Journal on September 11, 2003.—Wikipeidia At first glance, the eyes appear quite alike.  But … each is casting a unique glance, some kindly, some questioning, others petulant.  What are they doing here?  What do they see? —Oculus,Jones/Ginzel (1998) I pass through the Chambers Street subway station ever day going back and forth from work.  It’s my Church.  The mosaic eyes of the Oculus art installation watch as I descend the stairwell and enter sacred space.  I remove my sunglasses and take off my ear buds so I can see the symbols and hear the mysterious drone that hangs in the air.  There’s an energy down there.  I feel certain that it’s a place of healing—I see people hobbling on crutches or walking in circles, talking loudly to themselves and I want to tell them to stop and breathe.  Let the other commuters come and go in the flash flood currents of their bizzy subway streams.  Let time go on up above in its relentless push forward…down there it is forever NOW.  There’s no where to be and nothing to do.  There’s no rushing from an imaginary here to an equally imaginary there.  The station is the destination.  We have arrived at the Eternity transit loop. The eyes will bear witness as together we turn to dust.

Oculus is a constellation of stone and glass mosaics in the underground labyrinth of interconnected subway stations of lower Manhattan. Over three hundred mosaic eyes, drawn from a photographic study of more than twelve hundred young New Yorkers, are set into the white tile walls of the World Trade Center/Park Place/Chamber Street Stations. The work’s centerpiece is a large exquisitely detailed, elliptical glass and stone mosaic floor (38 ft 8 in x 20’8”) at the heart of the Park Place Station. The continents of the earth, interwoven with the City of New York amidst an ultramarine pool, surround a large eye in the middle of the mosaic. The mosaic is at once a vision of the world, a reflecting pool of water and a representation New York City in its proper geographical orientation.

The work’s detailed renderings of the eye – the most telling, fragile and vulnerable human feature – offer a profound sense of intimacy within a public place. Together, the images create a sense of unity and flow: animating, orienting and humanizing the station. Oculus invites a dialogue between the site and those who move through it.

The former World Trade Center Station is situated at the northeast corner of the site. The station was flooded and closed to the public following the September 11, 2001 attack. The site was damaged but not destroyed, and it reopened eight months later with the work mostly intact. Oculus was recognized as “an unexpected monument” by the Wall Street Journal on September 11, 2003.—Wikipeidia


At first glance, the eyes appear quite alike.  But … each is casting a unique glance, some kindly, some questioning, others petulant.  What are they doing here?  What do they see?

—Oculus,Jones/Ginzel (1998)

I pass through the Chambers Street subway station ever day going back and forth from work.  It’s my Church.  The mosaic eyes of the Oculus art installation watch as I descend the stairwell and enter sacred space.  I remove my sunglasses and take off my ear buds so I can see the symbols and hear the mysterious drone that hangs in the air.  There’s an energy down there.  I feel certain that it’s a place of healing—I see people hobbling on crutches or walking in circles, talking loudly to themselves and I want to tell them to stop and breathe.  Let the other commuters come and go in the flash flood currents of their bizzy subway streams.  Let time go on up above in its relentless push forward…down there it is forever NOW.  There’s no where to be and nothing to do.  There’s no rushing from an imaginary here to an equally imaginary there.  The station is the destination. 

We have arrived at the Eternity transit loop.

The eyes will bear witness as together we turn to dust.

jamreilly: Collage by Max Ernst from his graphic novel  Une Semaine de Bonte (A Week of Kindness) “The novel was first published in Paris in 1934, as a series of five pamphlets of 816 copies each. The novel consists of found images from Victorian encyclopedias and novels, cut up and re-organized into 182 montages which represent a kind of dark, surreal world.” via wikiP

jamreilly:

Collage by Max Ernst

from his graphic novel  Une Semaine de Bonte (A Week of Kindness)

“The novel was first published in Paris in 1934, as a series of five pamphlets of 816 copies each. The novel consists of found images from Victorian encyclopedias and novels, cut up and re-organized into 182 montages which represent a kind of dark, surreal world.”

via wikiP

This is a great insight by Mike Aruaz from his piece Spectrum of Online Friendship.  I’d like to get more specific and swap “digital technology” for “Twitter and the rise of the 24 hour news cycle”. Due to their asynchronous and “always on” status, these two tech developments allow anyone to tune in at anytime to catch up with the buzz of celebrity happenings—without actually having to be there. Twitter even takes it a step further in that it actually puts you a click away from your favorite celebrities.  The feeling of proximity is quite powerful.  There is something else—the fact that Twitter is often about communication during “in-between” moments gives fans who are followers even more of sense of being there, as the informality of the in-between moments of life that are often more memorable than the so-called big events. Tweets are dashed off on mobile phones and Blackberries in the back of taxis and in film set trailers—places where reality TV cameras occasionally venture but never playback without heavy editing. Twitter is untethered from the weight of big screens—it can exist in back pockets and handbags—it goes with celebrites to the store—it rides with them to the airport—it Twitpics the long line in front of the premiere, it’s there for them when they’re running late for the party. Even if they never reply to you directly, Twitter brings you in closer to where a person’s life (famous or not) really happens—the in between moments or “little times”, as Andy Warhol put so perfectly.

This is a great insight by Mike Aruaz from his piece Spectrum of Online Friendship.  I’d like to get more specific and swap “digital technology” for “Twitter and the rise of the 24 hour news cycle”. Due to their asynchronous and “always on” status, these two tech developments allow anyone to tune in at anytime to catch up with the buzz of celebrity happenings—without actually having to be there.

Twitter even takes it a step further in that it actually puts you a click away from your favorite celebrities.  The feeling of proximity is quite powerful.  There is something else—the fact that Twitter is often about communication during “in-between” moments gives fans who are followers even more of sense of being there, as the informality of the in-between moments of life that are often more memorable than the so-called big events. Tweets are dashed off on mobile phones and Blackberries in the back of taxis and in film set trailers—places where reality TV cameras occasionally venture but never playback without heavy editing. Twitter is untethered from the weight of big screens—it can exist in back pockets and handbags—it goes with celebrites to the store—it rides with them to the airport—it Twitpics the long line in front of the premiere, it’s there for them when they’re running late for the party.

Even if they never reply to you directly, Twitter brings you in closer to where a person’s life (famous or not) really happens—the in between moments or “little times”, as Andy Warhol put so perfectly.

The Scobleizer Twitter Stream

(Robert Scoble makes it about him by making it about US)

I’m using the example of The Scobleizer Twitter stream in order to better elucidate the fundamentals of how Twitter streams work.  People who meet and follow each other through their mutual following of the popular tech writer, Robert Scoble, (@Scobleizer) are likely to have a set of specific things in common—an interest in emerging technology and insider Silicon Valley news as well as a desire to be among the early adaptors and cutting edge people who are a part of that world.  These interests help form the brand of the Scobleizer Twitter stream, which is the subset of users who found and follow one another through their shared following of Scobleizer. The Twitter stream can be thought of as the subset of Scoble’s followers who form the main current of conversation about and in direct response to his tweets.  They communicate with one another through “@” replies and retweets in a similar way that the readers of a blog have conversations and debates between themselves in the comments section.  Even if the blog author isn’t directly involved in an exchange, his or her thoughts are still being amplified.

There’s a threshold, however, in which the specificity of the Twitter stream brand gets watered down and looses whatever it is that made it unique.  This would happen if the people following Scobleizer have a large number of other people in common with one another that they found and followed outside of the Scoble Stream. If these other Twitter streams are also about emerging technology, then the overlap of streams forms a larger stream (AKA a fluid machine) within the larger Twitter river. But if the other shared Twitter streams are about a wide variety of subjects then the Twitter stream changes from a large group of people who found each other through their specific shared interests into a large group of people who found each other through a myriad of interests.  What was once a strong current expands into a tepid bay.

Just because you attract a huge amount of followers doesn’t automatically mean your stream will be watered down—it does, however, make it more likely than if you have only a small group of followers.  The reason I choose Scoble as an example is because he has made the workings of the Twitter streams work for him so that he has retained a sense of intimacy between himself and his followers.  Even his online name, “Scobleizer”, seems to acknowledge his Twitter stream existence as neither noun nor verb.  He is a person but what he has created with his online presence is a way of being.  The “Scobleizer Twitter stream is not identical to Scoblizer’s follow list.  A stream is about a multiplicity of connections in many directions.  It’s the difference between broadcasting at a loud volume and creating a positive feedback loop. For instance, there are plenty of celebrities on Twitter who have huge follower counts but who follow back very few people in return and almost never engage in conversation.  Oprah has a large number of Twitter followers, but a completely weak Twitter stream, as there’s little or no interaction or recognition between these followers as her followers.  Part of what makes Scoble’s Twitter stream so strong is that he interacts with his followers who in turn interact with one another. He often closes the circuit by retweeting these interactions: ensuring that their interaction is branded AS members of the Scobleizer Twitter stream and not just conversation between people who happen to be followers of Scoble as well as lots of other people.  By putting your thoughts, ideas and blog posts out there in such a way that encourages discussion with EVERYONE who follows you is the easiest and best way to keep your stream strong. There are plenty of Twitterers out there who have loads of followers but will only deign to reply to a chosen few.  Even if this discussion is rich and interesting, the fact that there is an unspoken follower hierarchy discourages other followers not only from replying to the Big Fish twitterer, but it also precludes them from finding and getting to know one another AS followers of the Big Fish.

Instead of aiming for a high number of followers, I would argue that a Twitterer’s IDEAS reach a greater number of people if they instead focus on cultivating a smaller, yet more engaged group of followers.  You should cap off your followers at a number that still enables you to interact with them.  Despite his huge following, Scoble is an example of someone who has made the fluiditiy of his stream work for him.  He’s kept it “about him” precisely by not always making it about him.