Deborah Stratman unmasks suburban America, the supposed haven of safety, comfort, and convenience, as a landscape shaped by military-grade surveillance. As night falls and a man is on the run, the fluorescent lights of chain stores, parking lots, and gated communities illuminate the heavily guarded landscape. Every lamppost, glowing storefront, and fluorescent bulb ceases to offer safety, instead becoming an instrument of visibility that exposes bodies to constant observation.

Light is a central motif in In Order Not To Be Here. Rather than its typical association with providing comfort and security, it functions as a technology of surveillance, carving out the protective darkness of the night. Even darkness, one of the last remaining places of refuge, offers only temporary protection from the surveillance state. Military-grade thermal imaging penetrates the night, transforming our bodies to illuminated heat signatures, erasing the possibility of ever remaining unseen. As even darkness cannot protect us from being unseen in suburbia, In Order Not to Be Here invites us to reconsider the promises of safety and comfort when the price is constant surveillance and almost always being seen.

LA