Title: Internet Buffet
Medium: Photographic canvas print
Series: Doll’s Head Trail
Size: 10 × 12 stretched canvas
Internet Buffet captures another unsettling, poetic moment from Doll’s Head Trail in Atlanta, Georgia—where discarded objects speak louder than headlines.
In this monochromatic composition, a weathered Jensen television sits abandoned among dirt, leaves, and debris. Inside its darkened screen, a doll’s face stares outward—expressionless, hollow-eyed, frozen in perpetual broadcast. Beneath it, the word PEACE clings stubbornly to the TV’s base, while a nearby stone bears the hand-written warning:
“The Internet is a buffet… without a sneeze-guard.”
The message is sharp, sardonic, and uncomfortably accurate. A buffet implies abundance—limitless choice, constant consumption. But without protection, everything is exposed: misinformation, outrage, spectacle, contamination. The doll in the television becomes a symbol of passive consumption, of being both viewer and viewed in a culture where everything is available and nothing is filtered.
Rendered in black and white, the image strips away distraction and nostalgia. It feels archival—like a cautionary relic unearthed from the digital age. Technology lies discarded in nature, yet its cultural impact lingers in the handwritten commentary beside it.
Printed on a 10 × 12 stretched canvas, Internet Buffet preserves a found moment that feels eerily prophetic—an artifact of modern media culture left to decay in the woods, still broadcasting its warning long after the power has gone out.
Title: Internet Buffet
Medium: Photographic canvas print
Series: Doll’s Head Trail
Size: 10 × 12 stretched canvas
Internet Buffet captures another unsettling, poetic moment from Doll’s Head Trail in Atlanta, Georgia—where discarded objects speak louder than headlines.
In this monochromatic composition, a weathered Jensen television sits abandoned among dirt, leaves, and debris. Inside its darkened screen, a doll’s face stares outward—expressionless, hollow-eyed, frozen in perpetual broadcast. Beneath it, the word PEACE clings stubbornly to the TV’s base, while a nearby stone bears the hand-written warning:
“The Internet is a buffet… without a sneeze-guard.”
The message is sharp, sardonic, and uncomfortably accurate. A buffet implies abundance—limitless choice, constant consumption. But without protection, everything is exposed: misinformation, outrage, spectacle, contamination. The doll in the television becomes a symbol of passive consumption, of being both viewer and viewed in a culture where everything is available and nothing is filtered.
Rendered in black and white, the image strips away distraction and nostalgia. It feels archival—like a cautionary relic unearthed from the digital age. Technology lies discarded in nature, yet its cultural impact lingers in the handwritten commentary beside it.
Printed on a 10 × 12 stretched canvas, Internet Buffet preserves a found moment that feels eerily prophetic—an artifact of modern media culture left to decay in the woods, still broadcasting its warning long after the power has gone out.
