Algorithmic cage: Artist challenges delusion of ‚free‘ net browsing

Because the introduction of the web, its intangible and limitless nature has typically been in comparison with a free-flowing physique of water — the place we „surf“ the web, „stream“ its content material, and „dive into“ the depths of the Deep Net.

To many, it looks like a high-speed, freewheeling aqueous utopia, the place an countless sea of knowledge is available on the click on of a button.

Net artist Track Ye-hwan disrupts this phantasm of digital utopianism. Whereas skepticism in regards to the web’s idealistic picture is nothing new, her strategy to expressing it’s refreshingly distinctive.

By way of “anti-user-friendly” web sites and 3D projection mapping on natural cardboard constructions, Track reimagines net surfers not as autonomous navigators however as swimmers trapped in a relentless whirlpool — and even as unmoving barnacles, passively feeding on the curated tides of algorithms.

“I needed to visualise in a tangible manner how the web, as soon as celebrated as a haven for free-roaming net surfers, has reworked into an surroundings the place such freedom is now not attainable,” she instructed The Korea Instances at G Gallery in southern Seoul, the place her newest solo exhibition, “The Web Barnacles,” is on view.

“The customers resemble barnacles, clustering collectively and immobile. In actuality, they don’t seem to be navigating in any respect, but they continue to be trapped within the phantasm of crusing.”

The standardized net interfaces and hidden surveillance mechanisms, designed to supply straightforward, streamlined entry, are, in truth, what shapes and controls the digital expertise from starting to finish, she suggests.

Track’s critique arises from her personal expertise as a consumer expertise and consumer interface (UX/UI) designer. It was via her day job {that a} persistent query started to take form: Why does UX/UI design typically really feel so standardized, and what does “user-friendly” actually imply?

“My entire work revolved round creating easy-to-access designs, however the extra I thought of it, the extra I spotted it was actually about steering individuals to get hooked on the platform, basically addicting them,” she famous. “It struck me that as the net surroundings grew extra superior, it more and more felt like a construction designed to devour its customers.”

The artist’s “anti-user-friendly” web sites yield a cascade of counterintuitive outcomes, the place acquainted actions like clicking, dragging, scrolling and swiping set off totally surprising outcomes. This deliberate disruption is supposed to defamiliarize the consumer expertise we so typically take as a right.

But, maybe essentially the most eye-catching gem in her apply — and the centerpiece of her G Gallery present — is her architectural installations. In “The Barnacles” and “The Whirlpool,” transferring pictures and icons are projection-mapped onto towering cardboard lattices.

The clips, both sourced from the web or crafted by her personal arms, are bounded by rectangular surfaces, suggesting how each act of browsing the online is tightly managed and controlled, unable to interrupt free from its algorithmic confines.

As her works proceed to realize recognition and seem in biennales worldwide, Track shared plans to additional discover the geographically sure nature of the web in her upcoming initiatives.

“Though the web feels ubiquitous, on-line realms are inherently formed by the laws of particular person nations,“ she mentioned. „The varieties of content material which might be censored range by nation; as an illustration, in South Korea, entry to any North Korean web sites is strictly prohibited.”

“The Web Barnacles” runs via Feb. 15 at G Gallery. In Could, Track might be featured on the gallery’s solo sales space on the Frieze New York artwork honest.

Along with her solo endeavors, she was chosen as one of many 15 “Younger Korean Artists 2025,” the flagship group exhibition hosted by the Nationwide Museum of Fashionable and Modern Artwork, Korea (MMCA).