with cell phones
The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art's newest tech tool allows any smartphone user to gain access to the artworks hidden behind their archive doors, a collection so large that it would stretch 121.3 miles if you placed each artwork end-to-end. With only 5% of this collection on view, the museum decided to create Send Me SFMOMA, a texting service that delivers an artwork to your phone based on a sent emoji or phrase. For example, the first emoji I decided to text was a goat, for which they return Takuma Nakahira's 2008 Untitled image of—you guessed it, a goat.
To participate, text the number 572-51 the words “send me” followed by either a keyword (such as a color, emotion, or type of art) or an emoji. A quick response will bring your phone an image of an artwork from SFMOMA’s vast collection, in addition to a caption containing the artist, artwork title, and year. Within the first four days of the program over 3,000 artworks were generated, a larger number than the amount of works currently on view.
The system isn’t perfect, more of my inquiries came back with an error message than an artwork, however the intrigue of seeing a piece that has been tucked away from the public is quite addicting. I especially loved seeing what some of my most used emojis resulted in, such as the single eye which brought Tomoko Sawada's Early Days (1996) to my inbox. (via Hyperallergic)
Share this story
Making eye contact, a once unavoidable feat when packed into a crowded train car or museum, is now a nearly impossible mission as those around you are almost guaranteed to be sucked into their phone’s screen while scrolling through Facebook or killing digital zombies. Our increasing dependence on the information devices constantly stuck to our hands was the inspiration for artist Antoine Geiger’s series SUR-FAKE, a group of digitally altered photographs depicting random people being sucked into the screens of their phones.
The images show children, businessmen, and tourists with their faces completely lost, the forms stretched like taffy into the portals we use for selfies, email communication, and mindless gaming. The blur imposed by Photoshop completely masks any emotion once seen on the subject’s face, rendering each a personality-less drone. With this altering of the body the artist explains that the project is “placing the screen as an object of ‘mass subculture,’ alienating the relation to our own body, and more generally to the physical world.” All images courtesy Antoine Geiger. (via This Isn’t Happiness)
Share this story
Editor's Picks: Photography
Highlights below. For the full collection click here.