windows are unstable — they’re forced into boxes but move with the world. they show what they want to. windows are the first thing i look at when i wake up. my own, and then my neighbor’s across the street. i don’t know how many times i’ve looked, but now, today, for some reason, i finally notice that there isn’t just a window missing where there should be one, but rather a filled in hole where one used to be.

something about window memory...

i’m not looking through the windows, i’m looking at them. they appear already imaged, already flat. an image of an image. you can layer them and they seem fake, seem wrong, like they were always wrong.

a window is the sum of its surroundings. i look for ones with essence of painting. i look for light, composition, palette. i like their already produced quality, pre-rendered-ness. a flattened world. a window flattens the world too.

i read somewhere that ‘an image has a back wall’. a window also does. it implies an end, but it’s also the front of a beginning, the face of a space. a temptation, a way in. i think windows are controlled from the inside, but i wonder about images.

looking for windows is a pattern of looking. i’m tuned in now, it’s zoomed-in looking. if i move too fast the image bounces wildly off screen before it renders again. its difficult to make window images while walking with a dog, for example. 

windows bend in trees and wires, they merge in glass space and reveal our networks. the windows themselves are a network. i guess windows are frames framing. you and the window frame an image, a moving one, in collaboration. mostly the result won’t be very interesting, but the process is.

sometimes the windows reflect back other windows, self-conscious. they give face to facade. they allow you to read the building. often its funny, the repetition revealing mistakes, or poor planning— failures. designed from the inside out the final facade appears random.if you cut the windows out, what do you remove, what do you learn? what are windows the eyes to?  

the cheap windows are fun like the old-old windows, the ones that are so old the glass drips, warps, bends. the liquid metal. it feels like the phone screen, now so smart it can’t hold still. the world vibrates, and its unsettling, nauseating. its the live flux. its the video version of the flat panorama glitch, the flattened 3D image.

if you can see the glass, you can see the filter. you’ll know why the world is suddenly chaos.