THIS THING WE DID

‡ This Thing We Did is a show that does not exist, or does it? This is a collaboration of artists creating a virtual web gallery, where the gallery is non-existent, sort of. We are net artists. How does every one do those kissy hearts and shit? ◊◊◊ ❥ ❥ ❥ Internet driving is a spectacular form of amnesia. Everything is to be discovered, everything to be obliterated. There are ideas of a second reality, umm, in which digital voyeurism denotes our existence. I am online, therefore I am. I gotta beaver this morning from internet surfing. Is it any wonder that the subject is often dysfunctional, suspended between obscene proximity and spectacular fascination? Do you believe in users?