An Adventure in Abstract Digital Art
Biagio didn’t have any expectations when his older girlfriend bought tickets to a digital art studio in Chelsea, New York. In his mind, the best experiences come from having no expectations at all. Since he didn’t have great expectations, he felt like he could relax and enjoy the moment. With the bar set so low there was only upside.
The boiler room was dark and illuminated by blue images projected onto the walls and floor- shining as if a disco ball was hanging from the ceiling. The blue waves spiraled rapidly, like a power-hungry hurricane taking shape. Then, the speed slowed, and the shapes shifted, taking on a lighter shade of blue. Biagio’s eyes were entranced by the flow of the wave, as each curved silhouette followed one another, pursuing each other in an infinite loop. The excitement pumped through Biagio’s veins like wildfire.
Eyes wide, a familiar feeling of excitement swirled through Virginia’s body as the blue waves spiraled and crashed without a sound. It was as if she was a kid again, assigned to sit next to her childhood crush. Virginia rested her head on Biagio’s shoulder as they fell into a trance. Their eyes watched the hurricane transform into different shapes, rhythms, and shades of blue, while their mind rested elsewhere.
“I never want to leave this place,” Biagio whispered, entirely inspired by the imagery, unbothered by the group of high school girls snickering and snapping photos in the corner.
For a moment, his mind drifted into a space beyond his body. He cocked his head to the side in confusion as the outline of an old friend of his formed inside the hurricane. There was a slightly-opened secret door in one of the squares that lit up in bright shades of blue, which was only visible to him. He rose to his feet, carefully stepped toward the door, and side-slipped through the narrow opening.
On the other side, he experienced vivid flashes of memories. He saw his younger self sitting in the backseat of his best friend’s car and looking through the window. He saw his grandfather hustling out into the street, chasing after the Spaldeen rubber ball while the broomstick bat rattled against the concrete. He saw his family at a table eating his mother’s Sunday sauce; he smelt the fresh aroma of basil and garlic still lingering on his fingertips. He saw Virginia’s head resting peacefully on his shoulder.
Behind him there was a dark wave of panic, as if someone pulled out a gun in a public space. Indistinct faces were shouting indistinctly while holding their heads and running wild. There was a slow progression and no urgency for cover. As Biagio joined the commotion randomly, he passed by a former acquaintance, Freddie “Fish,” with his back pressed against the wall coolly, like he was in control of the world. He was standing with his belly pressed against the zipper of his jumpsuit, smiling with a cigar chewed down to its last puff in one hand and a cold fish in the other.
He snapped his head back from the image of the cold fish, realizing that he was occupying a new place, outside all of the terror that existed around him. Time slowed, which allowed him to appreciate the simple joys of life lost in the city’s chaos but restored in the art. There was intense music playing in the background as he took a seat in the corner of his brand new world, biting his tongue, feet tingling, knees pressed tightly into his chest, and arms crossed around his knees, soaking in the digital hurricane like spiritual medicine.
