Wes Heiss » 2009

transvision

everlast . 24" x 24" x 30" . 2004

We are overrun by dumb objects. The things that we touch, watch, eat, buy, use and throw away have no ability to think for themselves nor are they designed to make you think. The vast majority of this stuff is actually designed precisely to keep you from thinking about what they are and why they are there.

The means by which you see things determines what you get out of them, and few objects in our world take this into consideration less than the television. In terms of how it functions, the design of the television has barely changed since its introduction over half a century ago. Strangely, as it has become a nearly ubiquitous component of contemporary life, the television’s physical presence has dwindled into almost complete insignificance. It is a muted black box… anonymous, passive, inert.

Transvision is an ongoing project that reconsiders the design of the consumer television we take for granted. Shedding the pretense of operating on the future infrastructures of broadcast information, transvision instead explores the potentials of altering the mediating object itself. This mediating object is a potent and thoroughly ignored threshold between the space of your body and mind, and the stream of information from the world.

Transvision’s intent is to change you’re relationship with what you are seeing rather than simply mindlessly relaying information. Each of the fully functional transvisions proffers new prototypes for watching and reconceptualizing our ideas about television. These new schemes of interface problematize the act of watching TV by imbedding interaction into a medium traditionally resolved to the goal of complacency. The individual transformations in Transvision expose the power of the mediating object, reanimating both the content and the viewer while cutting through the static and stasis of media. Whatever you do, don’t sit back and relax.

tv_oscillator-floor

tv_lazy

radius . 5' x 2.5' x 5' . fiberglass, 13"CRT, rubber, paint . 2003i did not know that . 2003

suburban

There is a pervading sense of sadness in the work of Wesley Heiss.

In the beginning it’s negligible… barely felt at all; in fact when you first see it it’s the exact opposite. Childlike excitement and curiosity bubble up as the materials and subject matter seem like something that could bring you joy. It seems as though it will somehow entertain you and being entertained is always exciting.

But then it starts messing with you. You begin to realize you are somehow “necessary” for the piece… that you’ve gotten all “involved” without properly being asked first. There is little opportunity for passive viewing. Arguably the piece doesn’t even work unless you are there.

In order for these works to give you something you have to give them something first.

Suburban has much the same set up for immediate joy; lingering melancholy. Conjuring childhood memories of bounce houses and parades we feel the flutter of excitement that comes with those first few moments of the unexpected. Yet the same excitement that may put a nervous but welcome sensation in the stomach of a child somehow turns into something else as an adult.

Your presence, your breath, that smallest of actions, is translated into something palpable. There is an exchange rate. The breath of your body makes itself seen in the swell of the balloon. It is the most evanescent of life markers and its sweet climactic puff breathes too large for the space now made uncomfortable and claustrophobic. The inflatable is self-declaredly hollow but looms large. Expanding until you are forced to leave, it pushes you from the room only for it to begin its slow, soft, heartbreaking fall.

Complacently watching the crestfallen beast take its measured descent there is a quick surge of optimism. It feels real and sad… but okay. You can always just go stand in the spot again.

Text by Angela Fraleigh

'suburban' installed in the Arlington Museum Arlington, TX

'Suburban' at the Arlington Museum, Arlington, TX

Walk into the space. Step over the mark on the floor. Lights switch and a blower turns on. The flaccid bag inflates into a huge grey featureless puppy way too big to fit in the room. Step off the spot and the puppy slowly deflates.