16 images Created 13 Oct 2021
WHAT I SEE WHEN THEY GAME
I was nestled in bed with Joe, my youngest son, who was 4 or 5 at the time.
We were reading The Week Junior, a news magazine for children. One page showed a series of pictures about current events surrounging a map of the world. Joe moved his hand to one images, pinched his fingers and opened his hand wide. His eyes were puzzled: The picture remained small. “It’s a book,” I told him. I smiled nervously, trying to hide my true reaction as inside my head I was running around in in a panic, thinking about screen time overtaking books.
We live in a house filled with printed words: books; magazines; newspapers. I read to my sons from when they were in the womb. But for years I have been dismayed at the pull electronics have on them, even as I would regularly put them in front of screens to keep them quiet when I had a call or a deadline.
And that was before the pandemic.
As schools closed and lessons went online it seemed there was no use fighting it. All their assignments came through the magic of the internet. The boundaries between school and play became impossibly blurred.
Plus, it was hard to say no. With house bound children, online games became ways for my boys to interact with their friends.
It's easy to malign gaming. But I wanted to understand what was so alluring to my boys. I am a photographer by trade, but photos could only get me halfway there. So I used a series of sketches, blending both what I see as a parent and what I imagine they see on their screens.
Recently, the Chinese government government announced rules that limit minors to just three hours per week of video games. I understand why they did that.
I understand it every time I see Ben clutching his game controller, headphones blocking out the world, his eyes glazed and far away. I understand it when I have to tinker with the age settings on Youtube, after seeing them taken them down a video rabbit hole, leading them in the blink of an eye from Peppa Pig to explicit, sexual versions of Disney songs.
But it’s also not simple. Ben’s fascination with American history was sparked by a Washington-themed version of Minecraft. Now, he has the Gettysburg Address memorized and can name all the US Presidents. I’ve seen Joe transported to the foot of an errupting volcano watching a documentary to compliment class assignments, imaginary lava flowing all around him.
Joe says he wants to be a professional Youtuber when he grows up: “I don’t want to be a sweary Youtuber or one that breaks things Mummy” he told me one day as we walked to school, trying to reassure me. “I just want to be the best at what I do and have fun”.
My boys have found a parallel world, and that world isn’t all bad. But it still scares the hell out of me.
We were reading The Week Junior, a news magazine for children. One page showed a series of pictures about current events surrounging a map of the world. Joe moved his hand to one images, pinched his fingers and opened his hand wide. His eyes were puzzled: The picture remained small. “It’s a book,” I told him. I smiled nervously, trying to hide my true reaction as inside my head I was running around in in a panic, thinking about screen time overtaking books.
We live in a house filled with printed words: books; magazines; newspapers. I read to my sons from when they were in the womb. But for years I have been dismayed at the pull electronics have on them, even as I would regularly put them in front of screens to keep them quiet when I had a call or a deadline.
And that was before the pandemic.
As schools closed and lessons went online it seemed there was no use fighting it. All their assignments came through the magic of the internet. The boundaries between school and play became impossibly blurred.
Plus, it was hard to say no. With house bound children, online games became ways for my boys to interact with their friends.
It's easy to malign gaming. But I wanted to understand what was so alluring to my boys. I am a photographer by trade, but photos could only get me halfway there. So I used a series of sketches, blending both what I see as a parent and what I imagine they see on their screens.
Recently, the Chinese government government announced rules that limit minors to just three hours per week of video games. I understand why they did that.
I understand it every time I see Ben clutching his game controller, headphones blocking out the world, his eyes glazed and far away. I understand it when I have to tinker with the age settings on Youtube, after seeing them taken them down a video rabbit hole, leading them in the blink of an eye from Peppa Pig to explicit, sexual versions of Disney songs.
But it’s also not simple. Ben’s fascination with American history was sparked by a Washington-themed version of Minecraft. Now, he has the Gettysburg Address memorized and can name all the US Presidents. I’ve seen Joe transported to the foot of an errupting volcano watching a documentary to compliment class assignments, imaginary lava flowing all around him.
Joe says he wants to be a professional Youtuber when he grows up: “I don’t want to be a sweary Youtuber or one that breaks things Mummy” he told me one day as we walked to school, trying to reassure me. “I just want to be the best at what I do and have fun”.
My boys have found a parallel world, and that world isn’t all bad. But it still scares the hell out of me.
