Ananda Serné
ChihChung Chang
Foad Alijani

Collective Dream

lepidoptera (from ancient greek lepídos scale + pterá wings )
I. caterpillar
small sounds
mouth noise, moist, saliva crackle
II. cocoon / chrysalis
breathing
soft snoring
sleep lip sync
III. butterfly
a long hum,
humming
IV. insect-inspired robot future pollinator
attempts at whistling, wind
wings flapping
notes on notation
to reproduce, represent, recreate and document
(moth)
(moth)
moth mouth, mouth moth
mot mond
first actual case of bug
I traveled to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC to see the moth that got stuck inside the machine that computer pioneer Grace Hopper and her team worked on in 1947. The engineers taped the moth in their logbook and labeled it ‘first actual case of bug being found’. This moth has since been described as the first software bug.
compound eyes
taking pictures in the dark
Using moving robotic flowers, labs are studying how well moths can see in the dark. The part in the brain that processes visual information slows down at night, allowing the moth’s compound eyes to catch more light, like a slower shutter speed on a camera.
This makes the photos brighter, but the longer the shutter speed, the harder it is to get the subject in focus.
Your original plan was to lie down on the earth crust of this cold, ancient fortress island made of granite layers, and to let your consciousness rub against the rough folds of its memory. Until the snowflake-like powder, ground out from the rugged surface of your senses, adheres to your retina with each warm, moist exhale. However, the scenario did not unfold. Those textures laid concealed within an uneven mixture of haziness and clarity, marked by fine cracks and bubbles hinting at past fluidity. They transformed into a metabolic specimen, rebuffing the scrutiny of any observer. sprawled upon the frozen ground. It was a season of resistance to inspection and sampling, as the lasting sea fog seamlessly erased the coordinates and blurred the distinctions between day and night. Thus, the once tranquil stronghold became a cluster of damp clumps, only discernible through the sonar echoes of warning whistles from passing ships. Those rose and ocher watermarks, as if being stained by pale pigment of zinc oxide, form Swedish and Russian languages in granoblastic patterns. The narrative of colors has been desaturated and recalled, evolving into a sweet yet gradually freezing sense of vertigo. You found yourself stranded on the cusp of awakening, unable to locate the boundary that separates realms.
Suomenlinna, Helsinki, Finland (60° 08′ 22.20″ N, 24° 59′ 2.39″ E)
I’m behind a window, far away from wind turbines, happy to see two birds which are sitting next to each other on the top of a neighbor’s house roof. I’m here, between the trees, feeling winds when they’ve been circulating my dreams.
I write in my mind with my hands, with my feelings. I always distract myself with my things then I am traveling throughout the text, the life, everything. I always miss the storyline of the text, so I need to edit it many times. I always start with pressure and relieve myself at the end. A coffee, a cigarette on a cloudy day, behind the window or on a balcony, starting alone and finishing with her. Imagining and remembering a space from a dream to prospection. The lights that come for observation, the speculation of the past or future, and the numbers that count stars, soil, and windows. I am getting used to dealing with observation, speculation, and numbers.
To prospect the memories of the space because of the power and beauty of imagination throughout the surfing from a past to a future in my mind by thinking, imagining, and changing.