it's just us

What does the negative space in a relationship look like?

An old 1940's phone with a twist. 

This relic of the past is actually a smartphone. Inside of its casing is a microcomputer able to access the internet, run applications, and be programmed remotely through SSH.

The phone was built as a vessel to hold messages for my classmates. Each classmate was given a number to dial in that would play an audio message for a "love letter" I had for them.

I began creating this device by reverse engineering it. Using a simple LED continuity tester, I followed wires until I found the ones responsible for the speaker and acquired an understanding for how the dial was able to create inputs.

Then I connected my own wires to these points and connected those to a Raspberry Pi on the correct GPIO pins, being very careful not to cross the ground and the power. 

It was then time to do some coding.

With some help from my roommates we created a system of ticks that measured the input from the dial in milliseconds and assigned that a number through branching. Using the tick system was an unexpected solution. It was something that we would never have thought about had it not been for one of us taking a class where they coded games but it was a perfect solution that made it repeatable and allowed us to create our own timing rules. 

With the code and hardware set up, the only thing left to do was present it in class running the code remotely from my laptop to ensure that it didn't fail for anyone.

This project is not over for me. In the future I hope to use VoIP (Voice over Internet Protocol) to make this a fully functioning phone and use a debouncer that would take out any issues with shaking electric input.

It is so interesting how in so many mediums, it is the negative space, the space in which the artist doesn’t touch, that holds the most weight. But I was first introduced to this concept when considering human to human interaction when my roommate told me how stupid it was that people talk about how amazing a person was at their funeral, but would never tell them how they felt when they were alive and able to listen. Likewise, the best critique for someone is not given until that person is out of the room.

The magic behind the phone was that the message they heard was never to be heard by anyone else. It would be deleted right after. The messages told them how I felt about them, things I would struggle to bring up and say were I face to face with them. However, they were the thoughts that actually characterized my relationship with them. And nothing could foster a greater connection between us than this secret we had.

The old phone was a vessel to hold these messages but it also stood as a symbol for time and tangibility. Time sets the stage for all things and makes all things experienced. It's what we do in this time that also shows intention. Letting time pass before sharing something gives a message more value. We didn't share it in the present because we wanted our perception of someone else not to be known, just for a little longer. Because at that very moment in time, our perception of them was something we were either too scared of, or something we didn't want to change.

Time and space, and the absence of one, the other, or both is the foundation of intention.

I hope to continue exploring this topic and the idea of value in more artistic projects in the near future. Hopefully at some point creating a full scale experience.