












Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is a desktop cinema piece originally exhibited on a 1990s desktop computer as part of a larger installation. This piece is an emotional sight seeing tour, exploring the contours of identity and loneliness through an introspective and hectic tour of the artist’s computer environment. They reveal their habits of rendering likenesses of interesting-looking mugshots found on the internet, and video chatting with lonely strangers on Omegle. Here, we share in the thrill of what’s strange: inventing yourself from scratch and projecting untainted identities onto strangers with each call. She is clear to distinguish herself from these subjects of lock-up and loneliness, while also sitting alone in her bedroom. Sometimes, recognizing differences in others is itself an admission of sameness.
What makes up an identity? Is it a collection of interests, or an accumulation of the variances between you and me? As we evolve and try on new selves, it’s difficult to define an identity when your existence feels transitory—simultaneously moving away from and towards yourself. The piece felt like opening old journals and confronting ghost worlds and past selves. We see into her folder of video diaries, and her defensiveness as we click open one from August 12th—her hair completely different, sitting alone, questioning that version of herself. She’s stuck in the confines of a 2D screen in the same way identity can feel stifling and rigid. There is an urge to compartmentalize yourself for ease of understanding which spirals as you begin to repel some people or question your own identity. We define parts of ourselves as private, some as shameful, and others as strong qualities to display. This work fuses these shades of ourselves into something sound, steeping us in the glow of our refracted light.
Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is featured in Dirt Club Zine's Volume 2: Vanity.
Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is a desktop cinema piece originally exhibited on a 1990s desktop computer as part of a larger installation. This piece is an emotional sight seeing tour, exploring the contours of identity and loneliness through an introspective and hectic tour of the artist’s computer environment. They reveal their habits of rendering likenesses of interesting-looking mugshots found on the internet, and video chatting with lonely strangers on Omegle. Here, we share in the thrill of what’s strange: inventing yourself from scratch and projecting untainted identities onto strangers with each call. She is clear to distinguish herself from these subjects of lock-up and loneliness, while also sitting alone in her bedroom. Sometimes, recognizing differences in others is itself an admission of sameness.
What makes up an identity? Is it a collection of interests, or an accumulation of the variances between you and me? As we evolve and try on new selves, it’s difficult to define an identity when your existence feels transitory—simultaneously moving away from and towards yourself. The piece felt like opening old journals and confronting ghost worlds and past selves. We see into her folder of video diaries, and her defensiveness as we click open one from August 12th—her hair completely different, sitting alone, questioning that version of herself. She’s stuck in the confines of a 2D screen in the same way identity can feel stifling and rigid. There is an urge to compartmentalize yourself for ease of understanding which spirals as you begin to repel some people or question your own identity. We define parts of ourselves as private, some as shameful, and others as strong qualities to display. This work fuses these shades of ourselves into something sound, steeping us in the glow of our refracted light.
Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is featured in Dirt Club Zine's Volume 2: Vanity.
Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is a desktop cinema piece originally exhibited on a 1990s desktop computer as part of a larger installation. This piece is an emotional sight seeing tour, exploring the contours of identity and loneliness through an introspective and hectic tour of the artist’s computer environment. They reveal their habits of rendering likenesses of interesting-looking mugshots found on the internet, and video chatting with lonely strangers on Omegle. Here, we share in the thrill of what’s strange: inventing yourself from scratch and projecting untainted identities onto strangers with each call. She is clear to distinguish herself from these subjects of lock-up and loneliness, while also sitting alone in her bedroom. Sometimes, recognizing differences in others is itself an admission of sameness.
What makes up an identity? Is it a collection of interests, or an accumulation of the variances between you and me? As we evolve and try on new selves, it’s difficult to define an identity when your existence feels transitory—simultaneously moving away from and towards yourself. The piece felt like opening old journals and confronting ghost worlds and past selves. We see into her folder of video diaries, and her defensiveness as we click open one from August 12th—her hair completely different, sitting alone, questioning that version of herself. She’s stuck in the confines of a 2D screen in the same way identity can feel stifling and rigid. There is an urge to compartmentalize yourself for ease of understanding which spirals as you begin to repel some people or question your own identity. We define parts of ourselves as private, some as shameful, and others as strong qualities to display. This work fuses these shades of ourselves into something sound, steeping us in the glow of our refracted light.
Blue Light by Emily Ghazal is featured in Dirt Club Zine's Volume 2: Vanity.
Blue Light
by Emily Ghazal
Blue Light
by Emily Ghazal