Light Semiotics

A collection of notes on the fluorescence of Las Vegas

Vegas lights are incessant.

After all, the city is renowned for its glowing light fixtures — you know, the ones that follow tourists at every turn, guiding their next step to every attraction within a five-mile radius. Each establishment seems to be accompanied by a larger-than-life neon sign to aggrandize its existence, adorned with flashing bulbs as if to preach to the world:

“A must see, once in a lifetime!”

“World famous!”

“Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada”

As our car speeds closer and closer to the glaring metropolis ahead, I take note of just how incessant Vegas lights can be.

Vegas lights are plugged in at all times.

The first stop we make once entering city limits is at a gas station in Primm Valley. It neighbors Whiskey Pete’s: a hotel and casino whose enormous signage shines woefully, juxtaposed against a nearly empty parking lot.

W - H - I - S - K - E - Y

Each letter glares so brightly, every edge of the walls and roof covered in blinking lights. I’ve somehow convinced myself there’s not a single tourist inside, finding it eerie that all of the energy being used to power this massive structure is on display, yet not a single soul appears to be looking.

Massive light structures require massive amounts of energy, even if for an audience of none.

Vegas lights create a sense of escape.

Indoor destinations prove to be our sanctuary on this trip, as the temperatures of Las Vegas climb upwards of 115 degrees. Area 15 presents itself as an optimal destination to hide from the heat and continue my exploration of light; it’s an entertainment center complete with virtual reality and the expansive Omega Mart, an art installation that advertises grand light anomalies and optical illusions.

The promises of Area 15 fall short for my college student wallet, but it’s still a space rich in observation. Neon paint radiates along the walls and a massive tree with LED leaves sits in the middle of the room; everything is accentuated under the dim backlight. Above me, a zipline propels visitors in a cramped loop around the premise. Around me, visitors are pointing devices at walls, on some sort of virtual reality quest. In front of me, a poster reads: “Reality is not enough.”

Area 15 exhibits a certain use of light that enables everybody inside to immerse themselves in different worlds. The vivid neon invites, the dim blacklight engulfs, and the digital bluelight entraps, all at once. It’s an experience that speaks to the greater lengths of my perspective of Las Vegas: a commercial escape conveyed to its viewers through effervescent screens and promises of entertainment never seen before.

Indoor lights in Vegas can be just as or even more potent than the signs outdoors.

Vegas lights are convincing vendors.

In the Fremont East District, Vegas lights become as visceral as ever. The district embodies everything I envisioned Las Vegas to be, from the neon martini that marks the entrance to the colossal LED arch that extends across the entire pedestrian mall.

On our second and last night in Las Vegas, a low buzz greets me as we make our way toward Fremont Street — the sound of neon running through tubes, the active fluorescence above my head.

The arrival of neon in Las Vegas isn’t a coincidence, and more importantly, neither is its use. Brought about by the abundance of electricity that was needed for the construction of the Hoover Dam, the iconic status of neon signage has become synonymous with the idea of the city itself. Neon sealed the fate of Las Vegas as a tourist destination; its luminescent glow advertises everything this city has to offer.

I see the Fremont East Experience as an epicenter of such advertisements. Jackpots at casinos, fancy cocktails at bars, even women at strip clubs — they are all selling points encompassed under the incessantly bright, arched digital screen I can’t seem to look away from. A city that never sleeps, I suppose, is one that vends instead.

If you shine your message bright enough, you can try selling anything under Vegas lights.

Vegas lights signal attraction.

These selling points are only magnified as our night continues along the Strip. Attraction is everywhere, communicated through electronic billboards of musical residencies, neon lettering plastered upon buildings, and the 5,000 lights it takes to ignite the Bellagio’s water fountain. Vegas lights burn with such an intense brightness that they coerce visitors into visual conversation, every sign persuading them to engage with the endless forms of entertainment the Strip provides.

Human behavior mimes the messages of the signs and symbols that surround us. Every sign in Las Vegas is telling its tourists where to go and what to see, eliciting patterns of consumerism, and indulgence. Vegas lights, in all of their various forms, augment these messages with every beaming light fixture that works to capture the attention of bystanders, seduce them into the nearest available attraction, and sell them the most extravagant experience.

Like the electricity that powers a light, the promise of attraction powers Las Vegas.

Vegas lights evolve with time.

The pervasiveness of neon has been diluted over the past decades as the city evolves to use cheaper methods of lighting such as LED. Vegas lights reflect human behavior once more — we are constantly trying to find the most efficient models for life at the cheapest price. This trip coincided with record-breaking levels of heat in Las Vegas, leaving me to consider our own transformation. I wonder if we’ll ever shift away from our obsession with consumption, escape, and stimulation. I wonder if we’ll be able to shed our understanding of light from the lens of attraction to instead illuminate the reality of the warming world around us.

To visit Las Vegas is to visit a city where experience has been predetermined for you. Beyond its physical attractions and promises, Las Vegas imposes a mindset you must take on during your stay, distracting us from its increasing commercialization and that of our own. But observing Vegas lights has provided me a different experience, with different messages: Vegas lights are incessant; Vegas lights are plugged in at all times; Vegas lights create a sense of escape; Vegas lights are convincing vendors; Vegas lights signal attraction; Vegas lights evolve with time.

Words: Alexandra Jade Garcia

Photos: Apollonia Cuneo