an infinity house on the webs
I wrote this post in 2021. it was the first time I articulated my vision for what a website could be — a concept I expanded on in writings about world-building.
last week it was stormy, zombie apolocalypse weather inside me — and in berlin, too — occasionally interspersed with five seconds of sunshine — like the worst kind of torture — and I did basically nothing but stare at the ceiling and stew in mild anxiety about life, and love. but this week I’m something else completely.
this week, the left side of my brain is firing in all cylinders, and I’m single-mindedly obsessed with redesigning / replanting / reimagining my webhouse, this digital vessel where I store everything, where I go to, sometimes, in order to remind myself who I am.
my intention was to restructure this website to feel in alignment with my current practices, processes, and my relationship to my art and work. a digital chiropractory.
my goal
to create a living infinity house. a house like a magical castle. an ecosystem of my world: to serve, delight, and enchant all visitors. where I can reign free — as the gardener-queen.
STARTING QUESTIONS
this redesign started with a few questions:
what is the best way to travel through an infinity house on the webs? (the answer: there must be infinite ways)
how can I create magical experiences for my visitors — and offer my resources for their needs? (a website as interconnected places, webhouse as a topography)
what kind of structure would allow this place to feel expansive enough to hold a living body of my work (a webbed ecosystem-universe)
how can a website mirror the infinity space of my mind? how I can nurture and offer visitors a glimpse into a-world-in-progress, a complex world in constant change, evolution, formation?
THE FLAT WEBSITE VS. THE INFINITY space
a year ago, while in lockdown in my secluded life in rural Japan, I did a digital cleanse. I quit social media and started practicing a daily digital solitude, in which I recieved no external input from the world — until 5pm everyday. there, my mind flourished. it was there that I had the idea for website as infinity house.
let me explain. the standard practice for webdesign seems to be this:
homepage as a feed, chronologically organized
top navigation with categorical information buckets
as few clicks as possible to convert
in other words, the website was designed to be a flat experience, like peering through a filing cabinet of nested folders, in which the main goal is to sell — whatever selling means. how very bland, how very capitalist!
the organization structure felt flat to me.
can we really organize a person — an entire living, breathing human being — (let alone a collection of persons) into categorical “buckets” of topics, or mediums, or forms?
is that really the best way to cut an apple?
is a homepage “feed” (or any feed, really) the best way to experience information? is time and newness really the most relevant thing?
no, certainly not. a website should prioritize the webbed-ness of information — the information nodes, the connection and expansion and cross-pollination between topics. yes.
but, I want my website to be more than just the opposite of flat. I want it to be so deep that you get lost, that you linger, that you stay and drink a cup of coffee with me — in the space that we create together.
no matter where or when you are — this webhouse is where we share space and time — without actually sharing geographical place, or synchronocity.
in other words, a website is a place — and a time. a choose-your-own adventure journey. an interactive game. a kaleidoscope of possibilities. a treasure chest of jewels. a closet of healing tonics.
it could be anything. that is the point of an infinity space.
infinite ways of digital traveling
a year ago, as I was reimagining my webhouse, I was living in a japanese house of grandfather buddhist priest — in a temple he built for his books. half of the house consisted of dusty, shadowy stacks of his books, many of them, decades old.
and I thought: my website is a temple for my art. my website is also a living library for my half-written books. it is also a garden where I plant seeds, and teach people how to garden. so, I imagined creating a website to hold five primary spaces:
A TEMPLE - of art
A GARDEN - of ideas
A LIBRARY - of writing & inspirations
A HOME - of the self
A WINDOW — into other worlds
this way of organizing made more sense to me than by medium — or form — or even topic. it is designing a web which has no boundaries, or borders. a web that exists as a house without walls, where infinite passageways exist between spaces.
perhaps my website is, currently, on a meandering journey to converging, eventually, in those five houses. or perhaps there is no convergence — simply the carving of infinite pathways through the same world.
current ways of traveling
rooms & journeys on the homepage: the goal is to open with an interactive exprience — this structure allows infinite unfolding.
a start here page that pulls a long thread through my body of work — a deep dive for new visitors, with curated shortlinks.
a footer with a traditional topic and form-based map.
I might also include a map at the top right corner?
SETTING INTENTIONS
three months ago, I wrote a reflection on 5 years of writing this journal on process, and setting new intentions for its rebirth.
I’d like to set my intentions for this webhouse in its current rebirth.
to expand as a space I can fully inhabit; a living vessel to hold myself and my body of work — in full power and flow, reflecting my relationship with my art.
to serve as a room of requirement, magic, and mystery. as a world for kindred spirits to get lost in, as a museum or a refuge, to fulfill their curiosity, aches, longings.
to connect with stranger-friends, build relationships across time and space, and create a flow of exchanges.
I’m sure I’ll be back here to write more.
last updated 3.24.2021