Intruder

Deena Larsen writes of "Intruder": "I took this picture of a hummingbird while re-visiting the trail up to the marble quarry at Marble Colorado, the setting for my first hypertext, Marble Springs, (Eastgate Systems, 1993). The little Rufus hummingbird had staked out her nest on a low pine branch just under the recently opened quarry, where marble dust hides the entire scene in a constantly falling talcum curtain. I was leaning back on the cliff wall of the narrow, steep trail so I could see the mountains on the horizon. She came out of her nest, wings beating furiously, warning me off. Then she carefully hovered above her eggs, silently staring at me as if to warn me off forever. Yet I called my friend back over to the tree and we stayed, entranced by this creature not two feet from us. We wanted to take her picture, to explore her company. We tortured that hummingbird with our presence for about 20 minutes while she constantly berated us with her eyes. Guess I shouldn't confess this in an author note, but the parallels between that hummingbird guarding her nest and me guarding my first hypertext run deep. I had immersed myself in the possibilities of connections without words, of meanings in navigation and structure. I wanted to share the joy and excitement of hypertext, to show the possibilities in this new medium. Yet at the same time, I cringed when people actually intruded on my space and explored my hypertext——a place that meant much more to me more than mere words. Hypertext and new media writing (as it calls itself now) provide an artform that goes beyond storytelling and poetry to form a space where meaning can take on new and compelling forms. This space is at once more intimate and personal and yet more distancing than linear text or spatial art. It is a place you can feel at home in, a place you want to protect from intruders. But it is an incredible place to intrude on, full of impossible vistas to exlore [sic]." -- Deena Larsen