I used to be a passive player; eyes glazed over as my thumbs twitched over red buttons. Other times were spent with family and friends, playing competitively and exchanging playful banter. Things really shifted when dial-up entered my household.
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In 2004, a small wing of the House of the People in Bucharest was rudimentarily converted into a National Museum of Contemporary Art, and I began work as a curator under circumstances that were an apotheosis of the local. Built during the ‘80s, the edifice was to converge the archaic strata of the collective psyche and the political destiny of the Romanian nation, in other words to bring a propagandistically deformed past into an unlikely future of anonymous collectivism and amputated souls.
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