Constellation is far from being a direct replica of the night sky; however, it achieves the nebulous feat of paralleling the experience of stargazing. The small space which Constellation inhabits beneath the floorboards of Stride Gallery's main space is impenetrably dark, punctured only by tiny points of green, red and white light. Despite the confined nature of this space, the lights have the appearance of extending back into a deep, dark and vast depth beyond the actual physical confines of the room.

The stars in Constellation are those of the electronic world, Moody employs the Light Emitting Devises (LEDs) of computers, routers and other electronica to form this neo-celestial body. The familiar formations of electrical mechanisms, this piece points out to us, have become our new markers in the dark. Historically the arrangement of the stars in the night sky was used to navigate long distances, especially on the vast oceans devoid of landmarks; these new blinking, flashing points of light indicating various electronic presences are an invaluable tool for negotiating your way to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning without accidentally meeting a chair or other item of furniture.

The aesthetic as well as practical changes brought to our lives by technology are probed by the material composition of Constellation. It is a poetic and whimsical idea to build a universe out of computer parts, one which could be interpreted as a literal act of playing god. I would even go so far as to infer that the work incites all of us to play at divinity, taking control of the world around us, building newer worlds out of the debris of the current one.

Of all the endearments offered up by Constellation, the reversal of scale is one of the most powerful. Inside the small space, looking out on a vast cosmology of stars will be interrupted at some point by bumping into another person or a wall. This physical confrontation reveals the tiny size of Constellation, and has the effect of making viewers into clumsy giants, leading me to briefly imagine myself as creator and ruler of this tiny universe, an idea only confirmed by the familiarity of the materials.

Ideas, however, are somewhat fragile; left on their own, ideas do not always wear as well as they should. The physical manifestation of Constellation, however, is in no danger of either undermining or underwhelming the ideas generated by the work. An injustice would be done to the direct experience of the work by attempting to cling onto any specific meaning or intention: the physical and visual reality of being in the piece makes direct and primordial contact.

It is strange to feel this kind of uninterrupted, primal draw to anything based in electronics; the attraction of technology is usually based in a more in-the-present-moment aesthetic, a sometime fickle, instant gratification type of wonder. Constellation, while not downplaying its materials, somehow transposes their meaning, using technology to represent not something high paced or confusingly inaccessible but rather an updated version of nature: familiar, chaotic but essentially human.

Some of the LEDs throughout Constellation blink ceaselessly, perhaps a token of life on other planets or the continued functioning of wireless internet. Either way, the mischief they playfully suggest feels like a gentle reminder of the autonomy of every universe from its creator, and accordingly the persistence of surprise.

Images courtesy Stride Gallery.