If Twitter were a landscape, what kind of landscape would it be?

sue
suethomas

  To all twitterers: If Twitter were a landscape, what kind of landscape would it be? Please tweet me your description!

Thomas Vander Wal
vanderwal

  oh my, Twitter is back at flood stage for me. I like the creek flowing through the last few days.

Vijay Riyait
vriyait

  @suethomas It’s a huge big field of red poppies!!

Josie Fraser
josiefraser

  @suethomas
for me it would be an enormous station, all kinds of vehicles & a
lot of milling about. & a big time-space crack through it.

Karoli
Karoli

  @suethomas a field of multi-colored wildflowers


P. F. Anderson
pfanderson

  @suethomas #landscape The patterns of light & invisible gravity waves between stars, in a dense galaxy shaping the dark space.

  JP Rangaswami jobsworth

  @suethomas a collection of zillions of tiny rivers connected yet apart
 

 

 

 

 


Karen Anderson
mystrev

  @suethomas – Twitter is a the hallway of a dorm for grownups

   
  The Family Gamer PaulGovan

  @suethomas, pretty things with odd scandanavian names! Klop. Pang. Spling. Shroot. Now i’m back to The Office!
   
  AJCann AJCann

  @suethomas  Archipelago.

   
  David Terrar DT

  @suethomas Twisty canyon with a fast flowing river

   
  Bill Thompson billt

  @suethomas Twitter: Suffolk as painted by Jackson Pollock

Google’s new app OpenSocial campfire-style

Very short of time today but can’t resist drawing attention to Google’s campfire movie for the new OpenSocial project – the long-awaited open source answer to Facebook. It certainly has jumped straight into the Google Notebook I keep for metaphors of nature and cyberspace, especially since it doesn’t even need any physical space whatsoever – it exists entirely in the ether, untethered even by a server: "With the Google Gadget Editor and a simple key/value API, you can build a complete social app with no server at all." Just look at those flickering flames and that cute log!

(x-posted at PART)

Antony Gormley’s Blind Light and the Coat Closet at LambdaMOO

Blindlight
Blind Light is the name of Antony Gormley‘s current exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, London, and it’s also the title of the individual exhibit which is attracting much attention this year, an invitation to "lose yourself in light and vapour in this cloud-filled glass room that is cold, wet and disorientating".

I removed my spectacles and hooked them into the top of my shirt, then walked into the mist. Immediately my nose started running copiously and then something sharp in the air caught at my throat and made me cough. I hesitated, wondering whether the atmosphere was toxic in some way they hadn’t warned us about. I could hear other people coughing elsewhere in the mist too, but it must only have been the shock of the difference in density, because breathing was immediately easy again and I was able to continue my exploration. My skin quickly became  coated with moisture and I wondered whether my clothes would be wet afterwards (they weren’t).

I’ve been in fog similar to this before, but only when driving, never when walking. And usually in Britain, although there was one memorable moment when, driving north of Los Angeles (I think it was on Interstate 14 near Red Rock Canyon but that may be misremembering), I passed through a series of canyons burning with sunshine with the exception of one which was full of white fog, suddenly reducing visibility to just a few yards.  In the box of fog which is Blind Light, I was reminded of that cloud-filled canyon when I realised I could see nothing below my knees but thick white vapour. I held out my hand in front of me, and it was perfectly visible, but when I looked down, nothing. Then the mists shifted and my feet drifted momentarily into view before disappearing again in a swirl of white.

What does this have to do with nature and cyberspace? Quite simply because the space I was most reminded of when I was in Blind Light was the Coat Closet at LambdaMOO. Log on as a guest and that’s where you’ll find yourselfin a dark, cramped space.  It appears to be very crowded in here; you keep bumping into what feels like coats,  boots, and other people. But then as I thought about it further I remembered also that I myself built a foggy room in LambdaMOO – or rather, a foggy field, as part of a space called

_^^~^___ the fields—_____~~^_^-~~ ____^^___~~~~~~

The sky is an English grey, as if the mists of Autumn are held fast in a canopy above our heads; a canopy which at any moment might fall and surround us, billowing out to hide the stream and the trees and the tractor and the wheeling birds… until we are left alone and silent in a muffling quilt of cloud.

So Blind Light recalled my early days at LambdaMOO when every visit felt like wandering through fog yet knowing that hundreds of people were close by – you just couldn’t see them. At the exhibition, however, there was one big drawback, and that was the voices, calls and laughter of other visitors, which made it impossible to focus. I know many will dislike this idea, but I think Gormley should impose a rule of silence on people entering the exhibit. Without that, it’s not much more than a fairground ride.

%d bloggers like this: