009966 (1995)


FF0000 (1995)


336699 (1996)


FFFFFF (1997)


000000 (1997)

Color, for me, is the essential element. But as a structuralist with minimalist underpinnings, well, I had to work hard to be faithful to the goals of my art-making when I first decided to take my art to the World Wide Web. ASCII art didn't offer the purity and simplicity I desired. Additionally, I was concerned about subjecting admirers of my work to long download times. The production of these works came after a long period of frustration. I almost gave up when my modem failed, forcing me to construct a Rube Goldberg-like network of potatoes, alligator clips and speaker wiring to maintain any connectivity at all.

I persevered, however; the results are evident on this page.

009966 came to me in the middle of the night. I recall sitting upright, jolted awake by the shock of creation running o'er my body, bridging the distance between the tips of my toes and my third eye. With 009966, my artistic dilemma was solved, and I felt, somehow, well, whole. If you study 009966 closely, you'll see the reflectance of the light from your monitor — harsh, yet yielding as a succumbing lover in its fluctuation. The coloration is nearly palpable. I think it is this which makes 009966 one of my most successful pieces. For me, this first piece represents the essence of the minimalist experience.

The second image here, FF0000, you really need to see in its full dimensions on the linked page. This work was created during an impassioned exchange on an adult BBS. I was gratified to hear that the reknowned critic, Johannes Web, observed of FF0000, a vibrant sensuality that cries out from the monitor with tactile impressions. Indeed, my fingers scarcely left the keyboard during its all-too-shortlived creation!

336699 makes a comment upon the natural world. During its creation I sat before my monitor while the expansively blue sky seemed to slip in between the slats of my blinds, and while the streaky heat of sunlight created an impressive amount of glare on my monitor screen. Naturally, I shut the blinds tightly.

A structuralist does not simply draw upon the tools of her medium to create. Rather, these tools become the medium. In FFFFFF, note the linearity of the borders so reminiscent of the retangularity of the Adobe Photoshop canvas. Note, too, the texture represented in FFFFFF — this, I assert, is the veritable texture of cyberspace, the fertile soil for all Web-based art forms. Critic Web said of FFFFFF, It is extraordinary how the line between the artist's canvas and the artist's work is eroded in this composition.

Minimalism has an emotional correlate, and although I don't find it to be the heavy oppression of depression, it is indeed the absence of color. Thus, I give you 000000. Incidentally, I would like to point out that there is a reason why the understated coloration demonstrated in 000000 is so favored among artists. You see, one who truly appreciates color, can only form this appreciation because of the an awareness of its lack. Quite interestingly, in binary black takes up more space than does white, a color which represents all tonality in the RGB spectrum. At any rate, the key to appreciating this image is to recognize its depth. Unlike FF0000's shimmery and diaphanous structure, 000000 nearly obscures its medium of transmittal — the flickering of the monitor appears to diminish, an uncanny quietude seems to spread from the composition outwards over the breadth of the screen. While 000000 has not received the recognition of FF0000, I am very proud of this composition and fear it may have marked the height of my creativity.

I would have liked to present more of my works in pomegranates. Alas, most of them are currently in a travelling exhibit destined for New York's Museum of Modern Art.

My interest in the arts was stimulated as a child when I accidentally melted a saffron-colored crayon. I received a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the New York Art Institute in 1983 and live with my husband, a self-styled computer nerd, in London, England.
                      — Hecksy De Simal


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