My newsletter is the best place to find out about new work.

I send it out once a month.

It's a snapshot of my creative process and research into how to stay wild as a human interacting with technology.

See below for a sample ⌄ ⌄ ⌄

A participant plays with Cave of Sounds at the Milan Museum of Science and Technology. Photo: Andrea Fasani.

Cave of Sounds: 8 instruments, 3 continents, 10 years

Hello from Milan where Cave of Sounds has just opened for a year-long at the Museum of Science and Technology. Eight digital instruments, each made by a different artist, are networked into a single interactive sound installation, which is then exhibited without performers for visitors to play.

… in this space, creating and hacking technology is a musical act in itself. So what happens if we create the instruments together? Like how we improvise together in a jam, except with the instrument-building bit. Would we end up with an ensemble to match the spectral balance of the orchestra? Would our individual musical identities still shine through in the outcome?

A photo of rocks stacked into human figures on a beach, taken by Tim Murray-Browne.

Against Interaction Design

Look at the words on my keyboard: ⌘command, ⌃control, fn function, ⇧shift. These describe the processes of a factory or a military unit, not a conversation, nor a dance, nor friends eating together. What of the rest of being human?

Behind every interface is a model world.
People are modelled as profiles.
Emotions are modelled as emojis 🤷.
The interface defines how I can sense and shape that world.
It defines my relationship to that world: what I can do, who I am, and who I can be.

An AI generated image of people in an art gallery staring at their phones

Desensitising to the Endless Soma Bliss of Optimised Art

AI that generates images from text is hitting the mainstream.

… But when I tell participants the model's trained on my own visual experiences, I feel a shift in how they receive it. They're no longer just navigating a hallucinatory machine, but glimpsing the human entangled inside that machine.

Lenata Goka and Isabul Sun at Choreographic Coding Lab 14. Photo by Max Dovey.

Embodied thinking: The antidote to being in the zone

Earlier this month I was at a residency called the Choreographic Coding Lab with an amazing group of dancers and coders. I shared my recent work on building complex full-body interfaces with AI. I was encouraged by how people responded, not just to how it feels but also the critical ideas I'm exploring through this work: how digital interfaces shape the way we think and move.

I've heard it said that if you want to know what tech everyone will be into in 10 years then look at what those in the Silicon Valley bubble are excited about today. When it comes to tech, they see just a bit further.

Today, this is, apparently, trans-humanism and augmented reality glasses. I'd also add self-custody of our digital content. Ten years ago, I have to stretch my memory – online privacy and bitcoin?

I think there may be an equivalent observation with dancers. If you want to know what everyone will be doing in 10 years to recover body and mind from technology, then observe how dancers work today. When it comes to the body, dancers sense just a bit deeper.

A single render of the generative artwork "What seem'd corporal melted as breath into the wind."

What seem'd corporal melted as breath into the wind

In What seem'd corporal melted as breath into the wind, each circle transforms an interconnected and continuously fluctuating field beneath.
To me, it relates to the nature of perception, the helpful but imperfect boundaries we draw around what we see as we classify reality into a model in our mind.

For the past six months, I've kept an hour long morning practice of coding visuals.
Most times I've listened to Jon Hopkins's album Music for Psychedelic Therapy from start to finish.

Coding generative visuals is the purest form of creative coding for me.
I have the image on the left of my screen, code on the right.
Each time I save the document, the image updates.
Each pixel I can trace back to a few hundred lines of code.
And yet, each tweak to the code is usually a hunch that may or may not lead to a surprising and beautiful result.
I suppose in this way, it follows the same ‘variable reward’ pattern of addictive technology.
Except instead of mindless email checking, it's mindful creative flow: hypnotic and exhilarating.

Here are some outputs along the way of the above artwork: