The first time I visited Laboratorio Arte Alameda (LAA), a house of creative electronic experimentation in the heart of Mexico City, I didn’t know what to expect. It was ten years ago, and I had recently become interested in the visionary uses of software and video mapping in contemporary art. I was looking for something I didn’t quite know how to name, until I found this space.
I remember joining the screening of Autorretrato apropiado (An Appropriated Self-Portrait, 2014), a film by María José Alós, which I found intimate, vulnerable, and fascinating. In this artwork, Alós creates a collage of scenes captured from iconic films (such as Kids, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Palindromes) that helped her build, through the eyes of others, her self-portrait. I was stunned by how the sound of the video echoed as it hit the walls and then slowly disappeared, consumed by the vast nothingness of the tall ceilings.
I was in my third year of architecture school and, having grown up in a small city where the main economic activities have to do with engineering and the car industry, my connection to the arts, in general, was weaker. However, the digital tools I had been learning to use for architectural purposes prompted me to ask questions about visual arts. Where can I connect with people who are using these tools beyond their original intended use? How can I learn from their experiences?
LAA had some answers. According to its website, the space, founded in 2000, is “dedicated to experimentation and the exchange of knowledge through art.” It prioritizes site-specific installations and performances that put “art in dialogue with science and technology.” It also interrogates the ways museums engage with or overlook these mediums.
Discovering LAA has fueled my passion for engaging with ideas that are difficult to express in words, yet are deeply moving and impactful in how I understand the development and effects of technology in our everyday lives through the lens of art. By fostering an interdisciplinary community—the kind that has historically struggled to find a space where its members can come together and share their knowledge, concerns, and unexpected discoveries—LAA facilitates encounters between artists, curators, engineers, hackers, technologists, writers, researchers, and more. This collaborative approach is embodied by exhibitions such as Machina Medium Apparatus, curated by Karla Jasso in 2011, which generated certain parallels between scientific inquiries in the seventeenth century and the work of contemporary artists. It explored astronomical computation, optics, media archaeology, and, more specifically, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz’s studies of Athanasius Kircher. Similarly, La gravedad de los asuntos (Matters of Gravity), curated by artists Ale de la Puente and Nahum Romero in 2014, brought together artists who, in close collaboration with scientists, developed artworks that ranged from kinetic sculptures, video installations, and hardware hacking in zero gravity.
But to truly understand the impact of LAA, we must delve into the work of late Príamo Lozada, LAA’s first curator, and explore the genesis of the 2005 exhibition Dataspace. It marked a pivotal moment for LAA, providing a platform for Mexican contemporary artists to showcase their technological innovations and challenge traditional artistic boundaries, while extending an invitation to viewers to explore these intersections. It addressed the very questions that initially sparked my interest in these fields and demonstrated the boundless potential for creative expression from within.
DATASPACE
Then the chief curator of LAA, Príamo Lozada organized Dataspace as a reflection of his interest in moving “from the observed object to the participating subject,” as he put it in his curatorial statement. At the time, Lozada’s work within Mexico City’s media-arts community highlighted the importance of creating spaces for critical reflection and promoted the visibility of Mexican media arts on a global scale. Dataspace was presented at two different locations: the first iteration in Madrid at Centro Cultural Conde Duque and the second in Mexico City at LAA—two cities with complex and fraught histories of colonization. Lozada saw value in exploring these histories from multiple perspectives and with different audiences.
During the late 1990s and early 2000s, interest in media arts flourished in Mexico, leading to the establishment of various institutions dedicated to the exploration of art, particularly in Mexico City. Among these were the Cyberlounge at Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo, which was directed by Arcángel Constantini and showcased net art, video games, sound art, and other forms of screen-based art. It also provided public access to computers and the internet and offered workshops, talks, a residency program, and performances. Museo Universitario de Ciencias y Artes had a dedicated space for electronic art called the Black Box. Centro Multimedia at Centro Nacional de las Artes, which was founded in 1994, focused on integrating diverse technologies into creative practices through a pedagogical approach. This is the environment in which Dataspace emerged.
The first edition of Dataspace at Centro Cultural Conde Duque occurred during the ARCO ’05 art fair in Madrid. It featured commissioned works by artists Iván Abreu, Claudia Algara, Arcángel Constantini, Mario García Torres, the collective Graph-Tec (Isaac Rudomín, Marissa Díaz, Benjamín Hernández, and Daniel Rivera), David Hinojosa Admann, Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, Lilia Pérez Romero, and Enrique Rosas. Lozada believed that with the increased accessibility of computers, there would be no turning back from incorporating technology into art. In the curatorial statement for Dataspace, he wrote:
With telematics, an important change arises in the dynamics of artistic creation, transforming the nature of the work of art, but also radically changing the definition of the creative process. The work of art ceases to be an observed object and becomes a space of interaction between the artwork and the viewer, thus extending the spatial identity of the piece.
The iteration of Dataspace held at LAA was part of the first edition of the Transitio_MX festival, which started in 2005 and continued through 2017. They shared the same mission: Transitio_MX amplified the visibility of media arts, attracted diverse audiences, and facilitated cross-cultural exchanges.
By bringing together knowledge from different geographical locations, Lozada’s curatorial approach immersed attendees in experimental technologies, challenging the separation between viewer and artwork. He also reconnected, inadvertently, with the spirit of the Los Grupos generation of the 1970s and 1980s in Mexico. These collectives, which included Grupo Suma, Proceso Pentágono, Grupo MIRA, No Grupo, Atte. La Dirección, Polvo de Gallina Negra, and Grupo Março, defied conventions and reshaped the role of the artist by actively engaging the audience in the creative process. They thereby used art as a powerful tool for social commentary.
Consider Atte. La Dirección’s 1984 exhibition Hombre, tierra, agua, aire, fuego (Siseponinazco)—meaning “man, soil, water, air, fire”—which was part of an event called Espacios y Sucesos at the cultural center Casa del Lago in Mexico City. This ephemeral installation consisted of three acts that conveyed a critical perspective on ecological issues. In the first act, the collective symbolically planted neon lights in soil, fertilized with red pigment and leftover glass, evoking the milpa cycle, an ancestral agricultural technology. The second act featured a group of mimes forming a human chain and breaking the conventions of their art by screaming in unison. The final act was a “virtual action” that presented a synthesis of the first act wherein the metaphor of the milpa became immortalized through photographs. The use of symbols such as earth (soil), fire (red pigment), water (leftover glass), and air (screams), resulting in various chaotic scenes, aimed to provoke viewers to question the environmental and social reality of the Mexican people.
Polvo de Gallina Negra, one of the first feminist art collectives in Mexico, was founded in 1983 by artists Mónica Mayer and Maris Bustamante. Their project ¡MADRES! aimed to integrate art and life, especially as both artists were raising small children. It encompassed various elements including performances, actions, and mail art. As part of ¡MADRES!, the collective creatively hacked television through a series of performances, such as its appearance on the program Nuestro mundo in 1987. During this performance, Polvo de Gallina Negra invited the show’s host, Guillermo Ochoa, to don a Styrofoam belly and humorously named him the “mother for a day.” The collective sought to playfully challenge societal expectations and biological stereotypes associated with motherhood, drawing on their members’ own experiences of pregnancy. They aimed to subvert expectations including that mothers must give up their professional career or sacrifice aspects of personal identity unrelated to motherhood. Through its performances, Polvo de Gallina Negra questioned these conventional norms, highlighting the possibility for anyone to embrace the role of a mother beyond predefined roles and expectations. It emphasized the absurdity and potential violence inherent in these preconceptions.
Proceso Pentágono is one of the pioneering collectives of the Los Grupos generation. In addition to performances, graphic art, and writing, artists involved in the group also incorporated diverse technologies within their practice. A notable example of this is their participation in the 1977 Biennale de Paris, where they presented an installation titled Pentágono. This artwork was constructed in the shape of a pentagonal space within the gallery. It featured two grid shelves filled with movable and manipulable elements. Among them was a panel boldly proclaiming, “Genaro Vázquez Rojas is not dead,” paying homage to the renowned union leader, defender of rural land, and guerrilla fighter from the Mexican state of Guerrero. Throughout the space, visitors encountered a collection of symbolic objects, such as scissors, rusty spoons, fingerprints, photographs, ID cards, jars with human organs, lists of Latin American countries, boots, and chairs with stenciled numbers. These elements were thoughtfully arranged, creating an architectural composition that functioned as an anthology of torture practices spanning the hemisphere. This was an installation that used telecommunication systems, technological tools, and the artists’ imaginations to name the violence of oligarchic systems.
Claudia Algara, Después de las horas (Afterhours), 2005. Courtesy of Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada, Laboratorio Arte Alameda.
By understanding the historical context and spirit of the Los Grupos generation, we can see how the artworks presented at Dataspace demonstrated the enduring influence of these visionary artists. Consider Mario García Torres’s Aplican restricciones (Restrictions may apply, 2005), a sound piece that subverted the power dynamics present in advertising by amplifying and dramatizing the hidden warnings and restrictions often presented at the end of commercials. David Hinojosa Admann presented Stockartist (2004), a participatory net-art piece that investigated how artists could take control of the transactional art market through speculation to artificially increase the value of an artwork, revealing how volatile this system is. But it was Claudia Algara’s Después de las horas (Afterhours, 2005) and Arcángel Constantini’s Semimscope (2005) that perhaps most effectively demonstrated the connection between the dot-com era and the way Los Grupos artists were thinking and working in the 1970s.
In Después de las horas, Algara challenged the conventions of poetry by breaking free from books and introducing her poems to public spaces. She distributed poetic texts about the body and identity, navigated the outdoors via flyers, and engaged directly with the audience present at Dataspace. The postcards she printed with her poetry also included a link. By encouraging audience participation and feedback, Algara transformed her poetic intervention into a net-art piece, blurring the boundaries between artist and viewer. The audience’s active engagement became an integral part of the creative experience, shaping the evolution and significance of the artwork. Algara’s strategy of on-site distribution can be traced to the performative actions of Grupo Março, who created urban poems in the early 1980s by directly engaging with audiences in public spaces. Similarly, Algara’s use of email feedback resonates with No Grupo’s practice of mail art, wherein the “art” took the form of collectively written letters by individuals who desired to participate. In both cases, the act of correspondence became a medium for shared creativity, allowing multiple voices to converge and contribute to the artistic process. Algara’s incorporation of a website as a feedback channel also mirrors this collaborative spirit, extending the opportunity for meaningful engagement and dialogue among participants.
Arcángel Constantini, Semimscope, 2005. Courtesy of Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada, Laboratorio Arte Alameda.
Constantini’s Semimscope extends the strategy of reappropriation embraced by Los Grupos. The sculpture consists of four electromechanical moving-image simulators that continuously loop a series of acrylic images printed on canvas. Through a complex system of rollers, gears, chains, bearings, and motors, the canvas rotates at a constant speed, creating the illusion of images in motion. The work draws inspiration from obsolete objects like the thaumatrope, phenakistoscope, and the Cinematographe, infusing them with new significance. Semimscope raises questions about issues such as planned obsolescence, the increasing fragility of technological devices over time, and the restrictions imposed by tech companies on device repairs. Constantini’s creation of a “new” machine inspired by “obsolete” technologies and repurposed components from other devices reflects his intent to reclaim agency through machine building. Moreover, the artwork contemplates the ecological implications arising from the mounting e-waste crisis and the extraction of rare minerals for manufacturing new devices.
In Dataspace, each artwork had a purpose, posing questions regarding the use of technologies, their provenance, limitations, and potential risks as well as expanding on the very notion of what the virtual space is. Lozada believed that creating artwork using diverse technologies required reflection on the condition of art and its relationship to an audience. “The work is no longer simply a window through which we see reality reflected, but a portal through which we pass to have a sensory and collective experience,” he wrote in his curatorial statement. “Both the work and the viewer are in a kind of ‘dataspace,’ which represents that immaterial space generated by the human/computer symbiosis, within which it is possible to define a complex and immersive creative process.” The viewer, he asserted, was not a passive actor but instead a participating subject, resulting in a fundamental shift that positions a work as something in constant transformation.
Mariana Rondón, Llegaste con la brisa (You Came with the Breeze), 2005. Courtesy of Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada, Laboratorio Arte Alameda.
Curatorially, there were slight changes between the exhibition’s first and second iterations. Enrique Rosas’s Mistizaje (2005), an installation as ritual that showed a series of personalized moving images according to a person’s birth date, and Graph-Tec’s Fluids, a mixed-reality experience where the viewer could sense physical phenomena through a series of tangible interfaces, were not part of the Mexico City presentation. Instead, Llegaste con la brisa (You Came with the Breeze, 2005) by Venezuelan artist Mariana Rondón was included. The rationale behind this change is uncertain to this day, as the exhibition’s existing archival materials do not provide any explicit explanation.
Still, Lozada’s curatorial perspective remained coherent. He drew inspiration from Lucy Lippard’s research on immateriality in art and Jeffrey Shaw’s exploration of interactivity in virtual environments. Dataspace was also informed by Ernesto Oroza’s concept of technological disobedience, which speaks to the subversion and repurposing of everyday technologies. Lozada’s selection of artworks in Dataspace showcased a similar spirit of innovation in technology’s alternative uses and interpretation, aligning with Oroza’s vision of technological disobedience as a means of challenging dominant systems and narratives.
Lilia Pérez-Romero, Frontera (Border), 2005. Courtesy of Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada, Laboratorio Arte Alameda.
One such artwork is Lilia Pérez Romero’s Frontera (Border, 2005), an interactive piece that invites visitors to engage with a character trapped in a screen. Through physical actions and gestures, visitors elicit various responses from this digital person. The artwork sparks contemplation about the gestures inherent in this interactive exchange and their relevance in a contemporary digital landscape, where on-screen interactions have become commonplace. It invites a new consideration about technology’s impact on quotidian communication and how it has reshaped our interactions with one another offline as well.
We might consider artists’ production of work for Dataspace, through their frequent use and re-examination of available technologies, a form of hacking. Yet, the significance of this “hacking” effort goes beyond mere technological innovation. A significant portion of technological consumption in Mexico comes from the purchase of refurbished devices and the long-standing practice of repairing and fixing broken devices, rather than disposing of them. While there is now a growing trend toward Fab Labs, hack labs, and similar spaces that allow users to tinker with technology, these practices have long existed in Mexico, albeit within the commercial rather than cultural or pedagogical sectors. This DIY culture is visible in places like the Plaza de la Tecnología México, a socio-commercial space that opened in 1987 in Mexico City and has since established similar initiatives in other cities around the country. There, retailers sell refurbished devices, purchase obsolete technologies and e-waste, offer services to fix and hack gadgets, and install pirated software. It’s worth noting that most of these retailers are self-taught and happy to share their knowledge with others. In doing so, the sharing of knowledge and the commitment to accessibility embodied throughout Mexico’s DIY culture pulls from non-Western perspectives of collective knowledge generation.
Dataspace’s response to its surrounding ecosystem and cultural conditions created a living entity that metaphorically connects with the process of mestizaje. The word mestizaje does not have an exact equivalent in English. It generally refers to the mixing or blending of different ethnicities or cultures, especially in Latin American contexts where it often carries a historical and political connotation. Some translations or approximations that have been used include the word hybridity and the phrase cultural syncretism. However, each of these terms may have different connotations and nuances depending on the context in which they are used. In this sense, it is significant that the exhibition took place in Spain and in Mexico, especially since the LAA is a repurposed former Catholic church and convent, representing the embodiment of the Spanish colonization of Tenochtitlán (present-day Mexico City). We could also argue that the mix between art and technology is also a mestizaje of its own, drawing specific attention to the artworks that challenge the original use of the technologies they employed.
Enrique Rosas, Mistizaje, 2005. Courtesy of the artist.
Mistizaje, the dynamic sculptural installation by Enrique Rosas, was not included in the Mexico City iteration of Dataspace, but it nonetheless speaks to this idea. It explored Mexican identity by synthesizing Indigenous Mesoamerican knowledge and Spanish culture. The artwork combined what Rosas described as the Llull-Ollin systems to create a series of abstract projections. These projections were personalized based on each viewer’s birth date and presented a fusion of geometric figures that responded to the rhythmic cycles of the logical systems developed by Ramón Lull and the Nahui Ollin cosmology. To experience these projections, viewers positioned themselves within a chair-like structure that gently supported their heads, guiding their gaze toward a specific focal point. They put on an early version of VR glasses, which ingeniously manipulated their perception, granting them access to an entirely new dimension of reality. By offering an immersive experience that attempted to grapple with indigeneity and the consequences of colonialism, the installation took up the complexities of identity and culture within a postcolonial context.
In this way, I see a parallel between both iterations of the Dataspace exhibition and Gloria Anzaldúa’s research on La Malinche. Anzaldúa aims to reframe the legacy of La Malinche, who was often condemned as a traitor to her people during the Spanish conquest of Mexico, by depicting her as a survivor of colonization who made practical decisions. This led to a reconsideration of the Eurocentric narratives that had long dominated discussions of Indigenous peoples and women in the Americas. Anzaldúa viewed La Malinche as the mother of the new world, a symbol of resilience, and a catalyst for imagining a better future. At the same time, she also serves as a reminder that “old world” traditions can serve as the basis of this futurity.
As Franco “Bifo” Berardi writes in his essay “Malinche and the End of the World”:
At the beginning of the 21st century, we find ourselves in a similar position to that of Malinche: the conqueror is here, peaceful or aggressive, infinitely superior, unattainable, incomprehensible. We have given birth to the conqueror, who emerged from our history and went away, beyond the ocean, and destroyed any form of existing life in order to create a new code, based on purity, in order to create the automaton, the rationale for never-ending automation.
Dataspace offered a profound reflection on the transition from the Old World to a potential new semiotic space of world-building. Radical collectiveness and the refashioning of conventional tools and ideas were emphasized as key elements for articulating new worldviews while the exhibition also offered direct critiques of obsolete and dangerous value systems. Príamo Lozada was able to present a petri dish wherein the artworks, exhibition spaces, and audiences became active agents in a feedback loop that reset with each new visitor.
Despite Dataspace taking place during a promising period for the media-arts community in Mexico, there is a surprising lack of available information about the exhibition. Furthermore, the unfortunate passing of Lozada in 2007 prevented me from gaining his direct insights, but the Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada at LAA proved to be an invaluable resource during the research process for this article. It granted me access to a wealth of production documents, curatorial statements, artwork descriptions, images, and reviews related to the exhibition. As I immersed myself in this archive, my understanding of media arts and its potential for cultural expression expanded in vivid and profound ways. However, this deepened understanding was accompanied by a sense of unease as I confronted the fragility of government-funded institutions like LAA. I became acutely aware of how easily certain memories and narratives can fade away if not adequately supported. Insufficient funding and resources for preservation, production, and research contribute to the underappreciation and eventual neglect of these valuable artistic interventions.
Still, the experience of researching Dataspace was a transformative one that urged me to unlearn and reimagine. It unveiled the immense power of collaborative artistic practices, the harmonious fusion of technology and art, and the pressing importance of accessibility and representation. The artworks themselves left an indelible mark, fueling a deep-seated hunger in me for boundless possibilities beyond the confines of convention. I am filled with a renewed determination to preserve and amplify the voices, stories, and experiences that might otherwise be lost to time. As I step away from this transformative realm, I do so with a renewed sense of purpose—one that drives me to honor the past, illuminate the present, and pave the way for a future where artistic voices, diverse and resounding, continue to thrive and redefine our understanding of the world.
A NOTE ON (MISSING) MEMORIES
This article would not have been possible without Tania Aedo, Paola Gallardo, and LAA’s team of diligent record keepers at Centro de Documentación Príamo Lozada, who gave me a comprehensive understanding of Dataspace and Lozada’s curatorial approach while also underscoring the need for further documentation and preservation of media arts in Mexico.
Although the media-arts community in Mexico received promising support and visibility in the early 2000s, this was unfortunately short-lived. The significance of Dataspace lies in its procedural curatorial proposal by Lozada and the artworks presented in both editions, which are crucial for understanding the present and highlighting the lack of documentation for these vibrant proposals. This lack of documentation includes the disappearance of projects such as the Cyberlounge at Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo (2004–09), the Transitio_MX festival (2005–17), Museo Universitario de Artes y Ciencias Roma (1999–2021), and also stems from budget cuts to institutions like Laboratorio Arte Alameda, Centro de Cultura Digital, and Centro Multimedia.
The purpose of this text is twofold: Firstly, to provide a means of reclaiming access, resources, spaces, and visibility that have been denied to the media-arts community in Mexico. And secondly, it serves as a tribute to the work of Príamo Lozada (1962–2007), who was instrumental in understanding media arts and developing a solid platform for conversations concerning care, experimentation, and commitment that were essential for the younger generation. Lastly, this text is a tribute to all the artists who have pushed the conversation forward and fostered new communities around critical thinking, creative technologies, and politically engaged art.
Gracias por tanto.
Appendix of DATASPACE Artists and Artworks
Biographies
Arcángel Constantini (b. 1970) His work is of an “experimental playful” character, influenced by the fortuitous and chaotic processes of the city, which are reflected in his systematic use of the aesthetics of error. He explores dynamics related to visual and sound works, low-tech installations, propaganda, action, performance, and hacking.
Claudia Algara (b. 1975) is a Mexican poet and visual artist with a bachelor of arts degree in Hispanic language and literature from the Autonomous University of Baja California. She has also studied film, music, video, performance, and visual arts.
David Hinojosa Admann (b. 1967) is a Mexican artist and programmer currently based in Berlin. He has over twenty years of experience in the technology and business fields, having worked with major Latin American and North American companies such as Televisa, HP, and Baxter to develop virtual sites, intranets, and extranets.
Enrique Rosas (b. 1972) is a Mexican artist and architect who explores the relationship between art, science, and technology with a highly Renaissance spirit, embracing such diverse fields as electricity, electronics, and botany.
Graph-Tec, formed by Isaac Rudomín (b.1959), Daniel Rivera (b.1962), Marissa Díaz (b.1976), and Benjamín Hernández (b. 1979), was established in 2001 at Tecnológico de Monterrey, State of Mexico, with the aim of conducting research and promoting awareness about the intersection of technology and visual arts. It was founded by PhD students in computer science and, under the direction of Dr. Isaac Rudomin, collaborated with visual artists to explore this interdisciplinary field.
Iván Abreu (b. 1967) is a Cuban-born artist and programmer currently living and working in Mexico. His artistic practices encompass diverse media and strategies ranging from software art, intervention and design of spaces and objects to audiovisual art and information design.
Lilia Pérez Romero (b.1970) is a digital artist, designer, and multimedia producer with a master’s degree in digital arts from the European Media Master program at the Institut Universitari de l’Audiovisual at the Universitat Pompeu Fabra, Barcelona. She also pursued PhD studies in photography and video at the University of Barcelona.
Mariana Rondón (b.1966) is a Venezuelan film director and screenwriter. She has directed several critically acclaimed films, including Pelo Malo (2013), which won the Golden Shell at the 61st San Sebastian International Film Festival.
Mario García Torres (b. 1975) is an artist, curator, and publicist whose work encompasses various forms, media, productions, and reflections in different cultural fields, with a focus on conceptual art. He also maintains an active presence in the online space.
Príamo Lozada (1962–2007) was a Dominican curator and cultural activist based in Mexico known for his contributions to the development of media arts. He was a key figure in establishing platforms for critical conversations around the intersection of art and technology and for fostering new communities of politically engaged artists.
Rafael Lozano-Hemmer (b. 1967) is a Mexican Canadian artist known for creating interactive installations that explore themes of technology, surveillance, and the relationship between the viewer and the artwork. He has exhibited his works in major museums and art festivals around the world.
Artworks
Semimscope is composed of four electromechanical moving-image simulators using printed acrylic canvas, rotating to create continuous movement. Inspired by obsolete objects, it questions planned obsolescence, device fragility, and restrictions on repairs. Arcángel Constantini’s “new” machine from “obsolete” tech reclaims agency and considers ecological implications.
In Después de las horas (Afterhours), Claudia Algara challenged poetry conventions by liberating her poems from traditional books and sharing them in public spaces. Through flyers and direct engagement with the audience, she distributed postcards that featured poetry and included a link for audience participation and feedback, effectively transforming her intervention into net art.
Stockartist, created by David Hinojosa Admann, was a conceptual, interactive, and participatory net-art piece simulating the art market. Visitors could buy, sell, and exhibit, influencing the speculative value of the artworks. Participants could engage through a website, where shares were auctioned, and prices were determined by supply and demand.
Enrique Rosas’s Mistizaje explored Mexican identity by fusing indigenous Mesoamerican knowledge with Spanish culture. Using the Llull-Ollin systems, it projected personalized abstract images based on viewers’ birth dates. It delved into postcolonial identity, reflecting on the consequences of colonialism. This artwork was presented only in the exhibition at Centro Cultural Conde Duque in Madrid.
Fluids by Graph-Tec offered a unique approach to interaction and body integration. This mixed-reality installation immersed viewers in various landscapes reflecting natural phenomena like snow and fog. Using luminous and infrared radiation, and activated by touch and breath, Fluids allowed free navigation in the virtual world. The tangible interfaces simulated physical phenomena, including temperature, sound, and texture, blurring the lines between the real and virtual worlds.
Iván Abreu’s Defrost is a multimedia installation exploring mathematical processes and hardware hacking through a poetic lens. The cubic object, displaying images on fogged glass with a conductive matrix, questions technology’s impact on our perception of reality. As technology becomes more integrated, Defrost reminds us we must be mindful of its consequences on our relationship with the world and our perception of reality.
Frontera (Border) by Lilia Pérez Romero is an interactive artwork that allows visitors to engage with a character trapped in a screen. Through physical actions and gestures, visitors elicit various responses from the character, prompting contemplation about the role of gestures in digital exchanges and their impact on our communication with others. The piece challenges the notion of presence and emphasizes the importance of technology’s influence on our interactions.
Llegaste con la brisa (You Came with the Breeze) was a research project exploring genetic imagination through robotics and digital images. Created by Mariana Rondón and the Electronic Interfaces Workshop, the installation featured a large machine with moving arms, trays with soapy solutions, and video projectors showing human-animal hybrids onto bubbles. This installation was added to Dataspace for its iteration at Laboratorio Arte Alameda in Mexico City.
Aplican restricciones (Restrictions may apply) by Mario García Torres was a sound piece that subverted commercial advertising’s power dynamics. Amplifying and dramatizing warnings often hidden in fine print, Torres critiqued manipulative tactics in consumer culture. This commentary extended to the complexity of legal language, particularly online terms and conditions.
Lozano-Hemmer’s Público Subtitulado (Subtitled Public) was presented at Centro Cultural Conde Duque in Madrid. It used automatic-detection technology to project a verb conjugated in the third person onto each visitor’s body, addressing the potential dangers of automatic-classification systems and prompting reflection on its implications. The artwork also explored issues of visibility and representation by drawing attention to how we are seen and represented by others.
For the exhibition at Laboratorio Arte Alameda in Mexico City, Lozano-Hemmer presented Entanglement, an interactive installation composed by two interconnected neon signs. Each has a light switch beneath it linked through computers connected to the internet. The signs send emails to each other, ensuring synchronization, so they are always either on or off together, never independent.
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