This is my Christmas Present from my brother, David. It is a
Raspberry Pi, a tiny computer designed as an educational tool and being used in creative projects worldwide.
David knows I have been increasingly interested in computing for a long while now, and that the interest recently tipped into the practical when I joined the Southend Linux User Group last year. This as a present is beautiful little mechanical rope bridge between my long-term theoretical, narrative interest in computing history and techniques, and my largely incompetant ordinariness as a home computer user. This is a way for me to learn, and also a way for me to explore the process of learning itself. I planned to document this seperately for myself, but it fits very well as a companion to the theoretical and high-level academic information. If "Computer Science is no more about computers, than astronomy is about telescopes", then this is my telescope. It will aid my understanding of these complex and fascinating new galaxies of thought.
It will also play a very practical role in the realisation of the stall itself. I am hoping to make use of its tiny size, lightness and simplicity to form the heart of the "plugged in" element of the work. I am very keen for the stall not to be dominated by an entirely familiar computer - a laptop, a tablet, a pc. I would like to do something to draw attention to the computer as a tool for the computing itself. To keep the focus on the patterns of Computer Science, but using the audience's expectations to do so. Computer Scientists have to say "computing is no more about computers than astronomy is about telescopes" so often precisely because the expectation is otherwise. It's partly a language thing: before "computer" meant the machine, it was a job title. People were computers. Mechanical computers took over the job of repetitive scientific calculations, and took on the name. But also it is a fair association. Computer Science is at least in part to do with computers, and the quote contains that knowledge. I am familiar with that kind of comprehension chasm. If I say I am an artist, seven or eight times out of ten the next question is "what do you paint?".
In my work, I like to use expectation and assumption as a shortcut to a bit of mental territory where the audience considers themselves safe and comfortable. Then surprise them. Not shock, not confront. Surprise. I really like people. I want to interact in a way that is both positive and honest. I don't think revelation has to be confrontational or grand. I like the little moments where you just go "oh" and something tiny shifts in how you see the world. (Positive, by the way, doesn't mean it has to be nice or happy all the time. Most of my work is of horror-based.) To get those delicate little revelatory moments I think folks need to feel ownership of the world of the work. And a great shortcut to that is to warmly satisfy expectation. Once people are oriented, they tend to get more out of exploring.
So, for this piece, I'm going to give them a computer as part of what is expected. But because the average interaction on the stall is likely to be around ten minutes per person, I'm going to attempt to build some of the structure of both the welcome and the surprise into the appearance (and possibly the function) of the computer itself. I'm going to try to be efficient. Lets see how this goes.
