New Mexico is known for its overlapping identities. It's an artistic hub (Santa Fe is the third largest art market in the country). It has incredible landscapes (it has 13 national and 33 state parks). And there's a fair share of technological quirkiness (Roswell's Area 51 comes to mind). While the state has been busy celebrating these different aspects of its history during its centennial events this year, this week these elements will gel as New Mexico begins looking to the future. That's thanks to the kickoff of the International Symposium of Electronic Arts, an annual conference and exhibition that celebrates the intersection of art, technology and nature, which is being hosted in the United States for the first time in six years. Over 100 artists and 350 presenters from 29 countries have descended on the city, and are transforming Albuquerque and the surrounding region (which includes Taos, Santa Fe and southern New Mexico) into a "Machine Wilderness," that looks at how humans, machines and animals will coexist in the future. Their installations, which include lowrider symphonies, robotic animal skeletons, and Navajo tapestries with QR codes woven into them, will be on display through January 2013.

In years past, artists have flocked to ISEA conferences in cultural hubs like Istanbul, Munich, and Paris, but event directors Suzanne Sbarge and Andrea Polli say that Albuquerque was selected in part because its access to wide-open spaces has led to the development of technological marvels one would be hard pressed to find elsewhere. "We have huge swaths of wilderness, but we also have labs like Sandia and the first commercial spaceport," says Polli. "It's a strange juxtaposition that's already here. We're just bringing it to life." In preparation for the event, the pair invited over 20 artists to take up residence throughout the area, and many arrived this summer to begin building out site-specific works for the conference.

Gallery: New Mexico's International Symposium Of Electronic Arts

The allure of the oyster always mystified me. For years, I'd wrinkle my nose when my tablemates would order the slippery creatures, put off by the texture of the little puddles of flesh. Don't get me wrong: I like seafood. I grew up near the water, and I've scarfed down everything pulled from the sea ever since I could chew. And that's not just fish--crustaceans are more than fair game, and I clamor to pry clams and mussels from their shells. But oysters always made me uncomfortable. It was something about their slimy, briny consistency--it seemed akin to willingly slurping down a slug.

So for a while I feigned interest. In New Orleans, I passed over the famous Oysters Rockfeller at Antoine's, opting instead for a taste of something I thought would provide a perfect out: The Po'boy. A heaping portion of anything fried and served in a bun typically falls within my culinary wheelhouse, and the Parkway Bakery's po'boy is considered to be one of the best in the city. The rubbery consistency of fried oysters was close enough to the clam rolls of my youth that I bit in without second thought. And to be honest, even mid-meal, no real difference between the two really registered in my mind; if anything there was a slightly creamier texture beneath the crispy oyster's crust. I convinced myself that I'd overcome my aversion, but inside I knew the truth. I was still an oyster virgin. And for a while, I was okay with that.