I used to relish methodical work of updating content on web pages. Zoning into the screen. Clicking, almost rhythmically from program to program, Ctrl C, Ctrl V, watching it all fit into place.
It was just text. Simple text in notepad or the text module of the content manager. Just letters, 26 different ones mixed up in millions of different configurations, to make up what looked like a screen of a foreign language.
I could work for hours, just highlighting...copying...switch programs...pasting, getting lost in the monotony but taking great care.
Because anyone who has worked on code knows that one little character in the wrong place and it will all go haywire.
But it could be a hidden mistake, one that you wouldn't notice until you were brave enough to take a look at the graphical masterpiece the letters had created...you had created.
Preview...launch browser...voila.
And there it was, suddenly, all the letters made a beautiful piece of work, that came alive with colour and texture. A 6 digit sequence created vibrant tones. Such a satisfying feeling.
More so, I think, than perhaps the creating a drawing or a painting. You begin to see these pieces of art unfold in front of your eyes. You can see the beauty, perhaps, before you are finished.
But a webpage, well, you can wait right until the end to see the masterpiece you've created. You can fiddle away with numbers and letters in a simple text document and then, have an unveiling of all your hard work.
And there's enjoyment - similar to that of a treasure hunt - when you're challenged to find what is making the border go wonky or the code appear on the page. What tiny character have I misplaced? What digit is not in exactly the correct position?
This exactness, the absolute intolerance of the code for variation, this is my math. The creative world's answer to having a definite way to create.
Part of me likes the chaos of creativity. The other part likes the certainty of web code.
Create to perfection.
It was just text. Simple text in notepad or the text module of the content manager. Just letters, 26 different ones mixed up in millions of different configurations, to make up what looked like a screen of a foreign language.
I could work for hours, just highlighting...copying...switch programs...pasting, getting lost in the monotony but taking great care.
Because anyone who has worked on code knows that one little character in the wrong place and it will all go haywire.
But it could be a hidden mistake, one that you wouldn't notice until you were brave enough to take a look at the graphical masterpiece the letters had created...you had created.
Preview...launch browser...voila.
And there it was, suddenly, all the letters made a beautiful piece of work, that came alive with colour and texture. A 6 digit sequence created vibrant tones. Such a satisfying feeling.
More so, I think, than perhaps the creating a drawing or a painting. You begin to see these pieces of art unfold in front of your eyes. You can see the beauty, perhaps, before you are finished.
But a webpage, well, you can wait right until the end to see the masterpiece you've created. You can fiddle away with numbers and letters in a simple text document and then, have an unveiling of all your hard work.
And there's enjoyment - similar to that of a treasure hunt - when you're challenged to find what is making the border go wonky or the code appear on the page. What tiny character have I misplaced? What digit is not in exactly the correct position?
This exactness, the absolute intolerance of the code for variation, this is my math. The creative world's answer to having a definite way to create.
Part of me likes the chaos of creativity. The other part likes the certainty of web code.
Create to perfection.
Comments
-babygirl
http://mysliceofpieinthesky.blogspot.com/