The Perception of Perception

It was a struggle to get to the Velaslavasay Panorama last Saturday. Due to my poor navigational skills of the surrounding area, I was stuck taking a cab. Fortunately, the cab fare was well spent.

Ray Zone's stereoscopic images were definitely an exercise for the brain! Stereoscopic images are like 3-D images basically. During his presentation, Mr. Zone projected a variety of these 3-D images onto a silver screen. In some of the slides the left eye and right eye were seeing two different images. For example in one of the slides, the left eye saw a cage and the right eye saw a bird. So, while your brain tried desperately to match the images, random and sporadic bits of the bird and the cage would disappear. Suddenly the bird was gone, or the top left hand corner of the cage would disappear while the bird was reappearing. It was mind boggling (both literally and figuratively).

Next up was Erkki Huhtamo on the Urban Spirograph. Wow. I now know more than I would ever conceivably care to know about the Urban Spirograph, no offense to Mr. Huhtamo. Although there was a pleasant sense of nostalgia mourning over this failed technological venture, his presentation could have been a bit more engaging. It also didn't help that he came right after Ray Zone, who had just dazzled and befuddled us with 3-D imagery. The lady next to me was snoring. Of course, she was really old. Poor Urban, his Spirograph never got the respect it deserved (especially if you see his "disc" design as a precursor to the LaserDisc or DVD).

Earlier in the day a quirky, young artist by the name of Joe McKay presented. I loved the idea of him challenging the sunset by attempting to recreate it on his computer. By projecting his screen onto a garage, he was able to capture the last few hours of sunlight dwindling into starlight on his laptop. I could define his playfulness as a classic example of the dialectic struggle between technology and nature. However, I saw his gradient challenge as more of an homage to nature's awesome color palette. If only we had graphics like that, eh? He also showed us a compilation of short video clips of upside down freeway columns. The familiar sound of cars rushing by coupled with the enormity of these sterile columns painted an almost extraterrestrial landscape. The sky was the ground with these long stretches of columned rows ascending into the abyss. It was eerie.

And lastly, speaking of eerie, the panorama itself was just that. It was a painting of a barren Arctic landscape. As you stepped up the spiral staircase you got an all encompassing view of the scenery. The creepy thing about a panorama is the part of the painting that's lurking just outside of your peripheral vision. And along with the periodic sounds of ice melting and glaciers shifting, the looming sense that something was behind you grew. Yeti? Maybe. I'd really like to see the panorama once it's completed. All in all a good day (with a free lunch ta boot!).