Lewis LaCook
Since 2001
Works in Lorain, Ohio United States of America

ARTBASE (6)
PORTFOLIO (7)
BIO
Lewis LaCook makes things. He is a programmer/poet. He likes unstable objects. He doesn't eat enough. Send him all your money.
Discussions (792) Opportunities (1) Events (0) Jobs (0)
DISCUSSION

hmmm


wonder why my art, though added to the artBase, never makes it to the front page or the fresh art page?
hmmmm

DISCUSSION

hmmm


wonder why my art, though added to the artBase, never makes it to the front page or the fresh art page?
hmmmm

DISCUSSION

betaTest:Zoosemiotics


http://www.lewislacook.com/zoosemiotics/

Zoosemiotics

Flash 6

Speakers On
Statement: Zoosemiotics
Formally considered, Zoosemiotics is about juxtaposition and variability. Its music, its text, its sequence and its texture all rely either on algorithmic procedures or intuition to lend it its unique look, sound and operation. It's my hope that the user interacts with the piece much as one would interact with a game; that is, that each manifestation of Zoosemiotics is a wading out into the depths of chance and discovery.
The work is a collection of nine frames or performance spaces, cycled through in a random sequence. Some frames are interactive; some are cinematic. A good hint as to the interactivity of a given space is the visibility or invisibility of the mouse pointer; if you can see the mouse, the piece requires input. Some of the interactive spaces have explicit instructions; others invite you to explore, by clicking and moving your mouse.
The music for the work mixes itself at random at runtime. Some of the sources for sound loops are Bartok, Webern, Spiritualized, Charles Mingus, Joy Division, The Jesus and Mary Chain and John Coltrane, among others. All of these loops were heavily edited to yield new textures from at times canonical material.
The text, as well, is algorithmically selected. Substrings are snipped at random from a collection of ten paragraphs. These paragraphs also come from various sources: Ron Silliman's blog, Petronious' Satyricon, the Clonaid website, a post to the Buffalo Poetics list by Patrick Herron, some texts on genetic engineering, etc. These are the raw materials on which the algorithm works. The results at times can seem asemic, and the text shifts continually, but this is part of Zoosemiotics' overall thematic concern; the barrage of communication, both biological and textual, in the early twenty-first century.
The tools used to create this work varied: Macromedia Flash MX for the final file; Adobe Photoshop for image-editing and compositing; Adobe Premiere for video manipulation; Electric Rain Swift3D for 3D animation; Syntrillium Cool Edit and Sonic Foundry Acid Pro for sound.

Lewis LaCook
2003/01/28 08:23:56

Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/

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DISCUSSION

The Temple of Day as Night


for Lanny Quarles

This is how I would make your Film.

Veins are pivotal, not needing hinged engines focus
glottal orange down on the brainscan of amorous I've
got sunshine/.../on a clou/.../dy day. My new
cigarette stops world war from metaphorically should
be complete by 2003/01/24 14:25:02, she moans, placing
each possibility before the slit in her nipples is a
point of view I don't share with the monkey gnaws her
from inside, outward toward war dens alight on the
fingertips of lust for bigger cars hangs limply over
one eye. The animal that point of view is veers

and sharpens in pensive rooms
when animals pour sites across thighs
made for pixels crystal in
oddly new foliage. Shapes. She

stares for awhile at the escalator.
Does it look back at her, I

wonder, and if so on the phone
to her mother, tutoring in
image crops. Mostly, I don't

think about it; every cluster
is relevent in its contiguity. I

blink thought-dreams if our film's
bio-warfare's cracked by teenage
network thugs, and what of dribbling
on the palm? Moisture recurs,

slick keys semen mental nametags;
I like this one, this one's worth, closure

of circles. I made sure the rope was snug around my
neck. I tied myself to the bed you watched flames
wheeling through almost singing your face of praise
the bland poetics of broadband nausea, new seas of
light, lit by tilting swill planets of PHD. The
stairwell through your flesh watches as I think kings
for an outdoor ampitheater at twenty-four frames as
seconds of cgi interference with my skin's
thought-streams of media ate my headfruit from inside,
slippery, the dominant poets would have you believe
the staircase when it tells you your looks in a box,
locking up. Because the/.../great/.../est/.../love of
all's/.../inside of me.

I took it in my hand.

2003/01/27 07:12:20

=====

Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/

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DISCUSSION

The Ghost


The ghost of throwaway lines
visits me deeply covered in

sleepiness. Wavy respite waiving
like narcotic medusa-hair in

my face. I have "sex" with
my face, shrink-wrapp'd o'er

and embossed with novel coupling.
This makes me squeak to kiss

(milk and ice and size and shelf and tomorrow or
frozen and tomorrow and freezing or throat spores
spill lipid quagmire jettison flavor across police a
dream of feta throng gunrack in the turnstile lurch
apt choices filter choler and durable ephemera or
luscious and gamey. It's true she networks with text
and I didn't see, staring up at a rusting sky through
the spectacle of lake caved in on me and I am juicy
winter arid like palms burnt flung. You know numbers
power front-end associations. All of us need that
space epoxy wan marbled all gigabyte distrych fellatio
rinse. You know all numbers to that power halo zip
fields of _root. And yet I "have" sex with my face,
duplicating an inexplicable palpitating culpability.
Trigger or blowfish swollen size and dithyramb
matrices television like tinfoil tulip spectre
full.frontal clarity along the incomplete agreement or
union of you and I after work not speaking but the cat
is snapping into place or the mirrors throw up a
chokehold on sanctuary. Oasis, the cherries were,
festive venn flux.

Today I woke up and. The storage of take away this
blindness sips from look I try, things shelving fat in
my face shaved of its sheath and no-one. None. All
the taste drains from my mouth. A shrink-wracked
charcoal rose of chocolate sores percolates tame
emerald rafts of fittest quicksand whirlpool
gimlet-in-cheek trained on crossing hairs with you in
the evening as the sky oxidizes backwards into male
and female tabs for the cat. How else fit in this
ground? Blown powder crushes shed bone dew on plastic
agility chords. Awake now, only eyes walking, sliced
cold: crisp pints rotund with ingrown pocket mirror.
The chokecherries of sanctity indemnify bank loams
with throttle vomit cleats. Venn, I sled, honey
masterpiece in ego goad, coding cashflow into sob
acids that identity horny dawn flaws in flowered
obstacles. How long will you stay? I guess days banish
shimmer nettles all across a deliciousness of the
backs of her knees. Squat a while away in text
networking, playful spike looms on which children toss
guidance like sniffles flirt onion nouns)

my fate, tables bludgeoning
real sirens in so early a morning

only commerce is awake, and trucks
growl the red snow we need. Moving

on, a ghost of strewn lives sits up
in the middle of a night of fever, hands

bandaged from glass. I pull them
out of you; cover my face like a mosque.

2003/01/23 06:10:00

=====

Anningan (in progress) http://www.lewislacook.com/Anningan/AnningansDoor.html
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/

__________________________________________________
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