Jenny Harp
I can remember the day my dad brought home our first computer. From that point forward I began creating digital objects; mostly drawings on Microsoft Paint, Kid Pix, and Flying Colors. Those drawings are now lost to crashed computers and outdated software, while many of my drawings with crayon and marker remain tucked away in my parent's garage. I ask myself - what else has been lost to the intangibility of digtial-ness? And can we stop it?

The amount of information and the speed at which it is changing is fascinating and overwhelming. The capacity of our computer systems to process this information far exceeds the limits of our brains, making the systems of processing and organizing seem foreign and abstract. The anxiety caused by this information overload compels me to try and make sense of these systems by slowing things down, by recreating digital actions by hand. I work within a digital universe that I can only attempt to imagine through physical objects.

At times my need to archive this digital world is genuine and results in sincere attempts to create physical records of the software and programs we use. But this cloud full of information, data, systems, and images is so elusive and mysterious that the frustration of creating a genuine archive encourages me to pull from software and systems at will, mashing them up in ways that are both generative and degrading; resulting in quasi-scientific, semi-fictitious images and installations that investigate possible histories and cultures that this invisible world might hold.