High on E
Occasionally in an attempt to replicate the serendipity of discovering builds on the Second Life mainland I'll engage in some random island hopping. The results range from unsavory to stomach-turning, to intriguing, delightful, and even sublime. Not necessarily in that order. Sometimes simultaneously.
The sim of Sudo sits on the latter half of that spectrum. As originally posted at Second Life Art News, the island was launched for a mixed reality collaboration between Seattle's Bumbershoot Arts Festival and The Frye Art Museum. It contains works from some of SL's most talented creators, running the gamut from Cory Edo and Forseti Svarog's sea monster 'Chester' all the way to Dancoyote Antonelli's spectacular expressions in Hyperformalism.
One work on Sudo seems to sit comfortably within this range and yet somehow above it all. In bringing Scott Teplin's pen and ink work 'Creepy Peepers' into the third dimension (so to speak), Kim Anubis and her fellow Magicians have conjured a build (view on map | direct teleport) that sits engagingly between the realms of realism and abstraction, architecture and art, illustration and reproduction, a feat of illusion which like a bifurcated bikini clad showgirl leaves you scratching your head, utterly amazed, and feeling a little strange all at the same time.
Creepy Peepers (which just finished showing as a part of the 'Heavy Water' solo exhibition in Paris) is a voyeuristic glimpse into the domestic struggles of characters we get to know but never get to meet. Unlike the often disappointing adaptations of books into movies, the migration of this piece into Second Life seems to invoke an additional layer of resonance over and above what was already a wondrous little drawing to begin with. The axonometric view of the unspoken intentions of high rise dwellers explodes in new ways and from multiple angles when alt-zooming into every hand-drawn nook and cranny of the structure, as if donning a pair of super-binoculars from one's own balcony window.
My only disappointment about this build is no fault of the artist nor the folks who brought it to Second Life, for it would appear so evocative as to bring back a long forgotten childhood preoccupation with the books of Richard Scarry, and as such, I kept waiting for Lowly Worm to peek his head out from around a corner. He never did.