161K, 1995, digital picture-poem with dream intrusions by Chris Wayan
For me, the path to finding love is difficult, elusive, convoluted.
This picture, playing with 3D, was an attempt to render that confusion, that sense of being a dog following an elusive scent through the fog. Sort of a spiritual "Where's Waldo?"
As far as I can see, most of us are living in Fog Heart City.
Follow the gender signs in and out and see how you do. Chutes and ladders, isn't that love?
Most people find that last line a bit obscure. "It's hard to find one's kind" means both "It's hard to find someone of my own rare type, someone like me" AND "it's difficult to discover you're too kind--the whole game is that much harder, even painful, because I'm too softhearted to compete with rivals, too kind to fight with lovers when I should, so I tend to give up and walk away. Damn empathy!"
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