In the center of the space is Perkunas [the Lithuanian name for (the God of) Thunder], a large structure built of ventilation ducts. A ventilation fan, installed outside the room, passes air through the duct, producing noise. A microprocessor monitors the space for active Wifi enabled electronic gadgets and controls the amount of air and noise produced by the duct. If there are no gadgets present, the duct makes little or no sound. With a couple of gadgets, it will make a louder sound. The more gadgets, the more sound. Our ability to communicate verbally is directly affected by the amount of gadgets. If we leave our gadgets behind, Perkunas will stay quiet, although it also reacts to the electromagnetic weather produced by stray signals in other parts of the museum and the street outside.
Perkunas is neither art nor architecture. Like Aleksandra Kašuba’s curved surfaces and Valdas Ozarinskas’ installations, it occupies another conceptual space. Like Vladas Urbanavičius’s “Krantinės arka (Arch on the Quay),” it occupies a position between infrastructure and art. No matter that this exhibit is entirely about technology, this is not a work of new media. There are no screens to look at, there is no interface to play with. Invoking the name of the Perkunas suggests an affinity with magic; in a world of technology, we once again believe things have spirits