As our perception of the world becomes increasingly mediated virtually, who is to say what is real? You'd hope that this would be some subject, some transcendent and concrete self, but if everything the self is asked to parse is an illusion or a facsimile, how will this seemingly solid center preserve itself against erosion? Escape Lounge is the foregrounding of the backrooms of the mind—a structural excavation of the staging area of the consciousness, scalped and exposed to the patterns of judgment and social scrutiny that are usually reserved for public pronouncements and rituals embedded in relational fabrics as profoundly as bones in flesh. On this record, the Italian artist Heith allows himself to slump into the web of informational and electronic interference that orders the patterns of tangible events as they unfold on terra-ferma in order to understand the transfusion between blood and selective-edification that transforms human beings into agenda-driven wire services through the elaboration on a computational approach to composition that blends the etherical with the real. It is the mapping of a transmission that haunts the hardware of our personage, with a plan and origin point somewhere deep in the guts of junkspace. It depicts culture, history, and ideas, all of the world's verities, as absorbed by some silicon spleen and excreted as predacious truth and set upon gated covens bereft of antibodies needed to defend against such viral, formless, and abstract aborations of thought. Here, we are looking at an alien yet all too human self-serving inducement towards dissolution into the textural matrix of a cathodic, catatonic fairytale- built by machines and unleashed into a world of beasts without concern for the conductive casualties it will accrue. A digital morality marching under the banner of: "That's what it means to create context."
