“Anyone can confirm” takes its basis from the widespread virtual interface element called a drop menu,
which can be viewed as a container or a category that is usually presented with a title or a symbol
describing its contents.
The user is presented with a list of options to choose from, which in turn can propagate further down into
their own lists and so on.
Through these avenues of choices, it is possible to navigate in and interact with digital space.
The drop menu construct, with its confined and defined form, starts to generate its own values, borders and
The inside describes and influences the outside and vice versa.
How do we as users influence and be influenced by these properties when we navigate our digital space?
Will their characteristics be somehow placed upon ourselves as well?
The artist's works have been thrust into this world.
Laura De Jaeger
A pocket, a wedge, a container and an ornamental trimming along
head feels heavy. The mass of
my body is slightly shifting from one leg to another. I'm wandering around a room -
I've been here many
times. I look in one corner and then another.
The room has a good volume. I don't feel it's too oppressive but not uncomfortably large
Its walls have been plastered smooth.
This kind of a gesture is an act of aggression towards the materiality and size of the space.
The act functions as an attempt to erase the knowledge and the crippling fear of the fact that
around you is a container
which accommodates you. Just like a piece of a carrot in a
rolling around the space when the plastic box is moved.
I move on.
I AM DOING ANOTHER
ROUND IN THE ROOM. The room is framed by strips that mark where the ceiling meets the
I move along the edge of the wall, the heavy mass of my head makes it scrape against the
now and then.
I stop about a third of the way up the room. In front of me is the doorway that separates
room from the next.
I look at the open door and the emptiness behind it, put my hand in my pocket and feel the
There is an absence of a thing in my pocket. There was a thing. But now there is
thing - nothing.
I keep walking
around the space. Beyond the door is not where I am at the moment.
It is still there for me, but as information stored somewhere else.1
1 In Marcel Proust's novel
In Search of Lost Time, one can find a scene in which the memory of a moment in
not only remembered visually,
but also emotionally, taking over the whole body and all the senses. This
non-verbally through a physical dialogue with the material.
In such a case, then, in my case, the movement in a space I have been in
is the present moment.
I forget who I am. I am reminded of an image.
A negative of an image of someone who could or could not be me.
It is contained and framed by the celluloid itself on which
it exists. Similar to this room and me. I exist in the fact that I inhabit.
On my next wandering shuffle into the existence of the
room, I stop again in front of the doorway, put my hand in my pocket and
feel the emptiness there.
This time my wandering gaze is caught by the wedge slid between the door
and the floor. It reminds me of the moment when I had the wedge in my
The hand that is in the pocket once again feels the sensations of the
surface of the sanded dark dense oak running along the fingertips in the
2 I did put the
wedge between the door and the floor on one of the rotations around
Was it the previous one or the one before that? How long have I been
walking in this room? Or these rooms?
I sauntered down the room. Thinking about how to
fill the space. Is there any need? After all, the space itself is
relatively pleasant - at least when walking around. The wedge
under the door still holds the door and the hands in the pockets
still feel empty.
The footnotes will allow the reader to understand the details of
my inner world and hopefully put together a kind of whole.3
But how do you create a whole? Is it even necessary? If two
objects need to be brought together, maybe a
wedge will help.
I do another round of the space.
My head swaying slowly from one side to
As I take a step and then another.
I observe the skirting boards along the space.
They define the space. They run along the connection of
the floor and the wall and then the wall and the ceiling.
To remind me and anyone else who would inhabit this space,
that it is in fact a space. That the wall does not run
endlessly on its axis and the same with
the floors and the ceiling. The doorway is the only
negative space. The only corner. I only turn back into the
space. I never turn around the space.
I sway from side to side,
hands in pockets and walk along the outer
perimeter of the container around me.
The hands leave the pockets
and the pockets fold back into flatness. Space
has disappeared - so the pockets were not
empty, they became space through the presence
of the hand.
Also the space I am floating in exists only
for me for the moment, because I am here. And
To read of me being here. I look again at the
doorway, feel the steps already leading me
towards it. In front of the door, I crouch
once more towards the ground.4
Being in a cube reminds me of the
profile that adorns a mural. I am not
slouching or standing up. A body that is
neither horizontal nor vertical. Neither
parallel to the wall nor the floor. A
body that exists in space without being
in sync with it. Have I conquered the
rigidness of the space? And I stand
A triangular shaped
wooden object is placed in my pocket
and the door starts to slowly close.
I step through the doorway into the
void and the space behind me folds in
on itself and ceases to exist.5