But something weird goes on in this otherwise banal representation, expressed by two visual dimensions that seem to dominate the scene: a dimension of clarity and blurriness, and a dimension of lighting and shading. As for the first dimension, the clearest objects in the photo are those that are the most immobile, the “hardware,” as it were: the walls, the hanging lamp, the plants, and the three laptop computers. In contrast to these, the computer users look blurred, fuzzy, and almost nonexistent. As for the second dimension, while the apartment is generally dark, the two centers of extreme brightness (or “overexposure”) in the photo are the three computer screens, and the three heads of the people using the computers.
The combination of these two visual dimensions creates an image of great poignancy: the banal, calming scenario of this home is a background to a much more disquieting drama that takes place in its midst—that is, of humans merging with their computers. This is obviously not a physical merging but a merging of software: human consciousness merges with cyberspace. The different physical shape of humans and computers is only a cover-up for a convergence of similarities—their consciousness. As the complementing text asserts, in this artwork, “subjects don’t just stare at their computer screens, they vanish into them. Pillsbury’s work . . . demonstrates how humanity and technology are intertwined” (Brown 2004). Thus, humans vanish into their computers, creating a seamless flow of consciousness between the two and, in fact, constituting each as nodes in a network. As this happens, the independent subjectivity of humans is undermined; their consciousness and thoughts are fundamentally intertwined with the machines they use. This not only makes humans quasi-subjects but also endows machines with a quasi-object status as well (Latour 2005).
Network Human
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