Rubbing as fieldwork: Workshop on site writing with technologies of captures, with MELT, Shauna Janssen and the Speculative Realities Lab at Kunstgewerbemuseum

Last week, in collaboration with the SpecLab, I had the privilege of inviting MELT (Ren Loren Britton + Iz Paehr) and Shauna Janssen from Concordia University for a three-day workshop/gathering at the Kunstgewerbemuseum, with Claudia Banz as our host. The vibrant group of participants and the museum's cosy atmosphere created a splendid contrast against its spacious and brutalist architecture.
Ren and Iz led the morning sessions, while Shauna unfortunately had to remain at home. However, her insights on “Site Writing” continued to resonate with us throughout the workshop. In the afternoons, the SpecLab team presented multiple resources related to our ongoing research on brain data navigation at Charité. The focal point of this presentation was the early-stage prototype itself, which can be seen in the image above, as neuroscientist Melina Engelhardt interacts with the data.

MELT introduced us to their tools, such as the Collective Conditions, an exercise called "Warming Up to Theory," in which we danced several texts that they had selected, and the "Rituals Against Barriers."

On the first day, we used "frottage" to connect with the area around us. Inspired by Shauna's guidance, we continued with "frottage" and rubbings using technologies like Lidar and photogrammetry scanning apps. This allowed us to rub objects that are usually kept behind glass, like those in display cases. We imported these rubbings into mixed reality glasses and continued rubbing with them.
On the second day, after speaking with neurosurgeon Thomas Picht and our colleagues from the Image Guidance Lab at Charité, we started thinking about brain data and our neurosurgical case study in terms of rubbing. How can we effectively rub with the spatial information to better understand it? We had a productive and relaxing time, and we're eagerly anticipating our next workshops at the Kunstgewerbemuseum. We'll be exploring how to engage visitors with the material processes and the enjoyable work of craft people through immersive installations and score. Stay tuned for more on the "Quasi-Makers" series event at KGM.

Claudia, Lin & Ren enjoying the results of the rubbing during the final public workshop session on the Friday afternoon.

Neuroscientists Melina Engelhardt and Robert Schenk grasping for brain tracts in our prototype at KGM, assisted by creative coder Warja Rybakova ©Maxime Le Calvé

Fieldworking art-science: a tour of the “Yet, it moves!” exhibition at Copenhagen Contemporary with EER

Two weeks ago, I was invited in Copenhagen by the EER project (Experimenting, Experiencing, Reflecting; Olafur Eliasson Studio + Interacting Mind Center at Aarhus University) to conduct a graphic ethnographic intervention at an idea-seeding experimental workshop. Our stay there started with a tour of the newly opened “Yet, it moves!” exhibition at Copenhagen Contemporary, an ambitious art-science project that a number of EER members helped develop, curated by fantastic curator Irene Campolmi, featuring the work of the fabulous Helene Nymann, and the wizard anthropologist Joe Dumit working his good spells in the background. 

In a low-key synchronicity event prefiguring some of the motion-driven mystics of the afternoon’s theme, I bumped into my new colleagues on the bus to the exhibition after a difficult train trip. The exhibition space opened recently at an ancient shipyard at the end of the bus lines. Crowds were converging there for CopenHell, a festival for heavy metal lovers.  Curator Irene Campolmi opened with a line by Galileo, using a famous sentence of his as a lever, catapulting us instantly to speed: “The earth is in the center of the universe, and yet it moves!” The show brings the visitors to an estranging encounter with the perception worlds of modern science, stretching from the cosmos to the brain and back. At the tip of the artists’ fingers, science data and imaginations of matter commit with each other into cosmic assemblages. They all usher us onto a moving map of what we are in their various ways. The movement of the world – and us in it – becomes the foundation of purpose and cause, cutting together apart the lab and the studio. On the left of the sketch, one can see the piece Helene Nymann created for the show: a sculpture on a pink podium adorned with a QR code etched on brass; a video, and an inquiring web device. That work wants the visitors to remember what to remember. Their remembrances are then located on the “carte de tendre.”

There is a heavy orb in the lobby that moves smoothly. Try and set it in motion: the model of the world becomes an empty form that takes meaning only through the dynamic flows of perspective it enables. “Try to get the orb or yourself moving – through movement, you might discover new knowledge.” The pulsations inside us are brought in direct continuity with the vibrance of the universe. Dorte reaches for the binoculars and sets her gaze in motion – a shivering focus can bring things to dance again. 

Datastreams flood through us in the ultra-high-definition audio-video installation of Ryoji Ikeda. The piece Dataverse is displayed in a huge room on three panes, three acts of a spacetime opera shown simultaneously with bombastic data sound triggering macroscopic unfoldings of picture matters throughout cosmos bodies. The feeling of awe turned us momentaneously into a Wagnerian audience process, sitting on the hard floor in the dark. A few members of EER, more inclined to keep moving, probed the work very close up, meeting with the pixels and disrupting the illusion.

The next piece was also monumental as a projection of monumental proportions. It showed us the inside of a glacier’s “throat” shortly before its collapse. Jakob Kudsk Steensen scanned the mighty being and presents video footage, points, and meshes, juxtaposing them into an intricate inner landscape. “My parents were mountaineers,” a subtitle told us as the subwoofers hummed deep subglacial tones. Everything else was dark save for the doorstep to the next enlightening experience.

The next piece was the much expected carte de tendre “Futur Continuous” video poetic piece of Helene Nymann. “Maybe the future is a memory you can remember, something you don’t want to be repeated.” “It’s time to draw a new map.” Situating us into an emotion landscape was an innovation of a female writer in the 17th century: together with friends, they invented a way to place the itinerary of a love journey. Helene crops out the map with a generative AI to remember the future of our human voyage. She stages herself and others into a dark loving affair with our grim perspectives and what we will leave ahead of us. What we will remember of the future. “Try to remember how your memory will make the future feel.”

The last piece of the show is a thinking bowl. The “Brain Pond” by Jenna Sutela is inviting the visitors to touch its rims and the water is keeps. A microphone picks the sound of it, mixed with sounds of prior interactions and whales and cosmos. The sound is not as “live” as the intrically written concept announces it, which makes the piece if yet interactive perhaps more uniformoulsy evocative of cosmic ripples and neural sparks. Kids love to touch its ears, Irene tells us, and we touched and tried to get the heavy brass bowl to sing.

“Yet, it moves!” points at the rich experiential world of science. Movement is one of the ways  It is be deeply erroneous to think science worlds as disenchanted and waiting for the intervention of the artist or humanity scholar to reenchant them, as Natasha Myers points out in her ethnographic notes on how biologists encounter plant-sensing (2015). Much like the popular physics writing on quantum in the 1980s and 1990s, this exhibition pays attention to the emergence of new contemporary languages to articulate mystic experiences between science and art, into slightly grim future that still believe in human potential. 

 EER project

Yet, it moves! 

Writing Fieldwork with Chat-GPT: An Ethnographic Report "in the style of Anton Chekhov"

“I saw everything, so it is not a question of what I saw, but how I saw.” Anton Chekhov, Letter to Alexei Suvorin, SS Baikal, Tartar Strait,September 11, 1890 (2008)

I present here a series of graphic field notes drawn on site during the 'Driving the Human' event at the Cluster of Excellence “Matters of Activity” on May 10, 2023, along with ethnographic text co-written with ChatGPT. One of my favorite books on ethnographic writing practice suggests that the best companion for writing ethnography would be Anton Chekhov, who in his pioneering work on Sakhalin Island intended to write with “scientific and literary purposes in mind”. (Narayan 2012 : 3) Using an AI and prompting it to write 'in the style of Anton Chekhov' made me feel like I was partnering up with the great playwright —or almost so. Sometimes I had to edit a lot, sometimes I had to let in a few sentences that clearly showed that a non-human intelligence was at work. Chekhov would approve this mode of sketching things up, as shows this excerpt from a letter to his brother in 1899: “Don’t smooth out the rough edges, don’t polish; be clumsy and bold. Brevity is the sister of talent.”(2008) If the accidental lyricism of the IA works well with this motto, it also plays around a current limit that the Russian writer also recognized as his: As he wrote to a friend in another letter dating from 1897, uncannily relating to the state of ChatGPT at the moment: “My sins are unintentional because, as I am only now beginning to understand, I do not yet know how to write longer pieces.”(2008) Together with my drawings, the "taste of the hand" and the flavor of the AI combine to create — I hope— a reading experience as joyful as its making.

Read the essay there: https://stretchingmaterialities.pubpub.org/pub/ds0pgumg

Conducting a 3D sketching workshop as fieldwork: Drawing and telling neuroanatomical landmarks spatially at the Speculative Realities Lab, Charité Berlin

How does the sense of space, and the haptic creativity associated with it, affect the teaching of anatomical knowledge? How can current practices be explored by shifting them to other techniques? In this first workshop of the SpecLab, together with HCI scholar Paulina Greta Stefanovic and neurosurgeon Thomas Picht, we challenged a group of participants from neurology, neuroscience, computer science, clinical linguistics, design and art to tell us "anatomical stories" using a 3D sketching tool. After a short introduction to the research project and a short tutorial, the participants jumped into the 3D sketching action using the free program Gravity Sketch.

The technological infrastructure was difficult to deal with at first, but with some inventive ways of overcoming a problematic internet connection, we were able to have participants share virtual rooms while moving around the same physical space. The new SpecLab space is a perfect playground for collaborative 3D sketching interactions. We hope to keep it as empty and spacious as possible. With the pass-through technology of the newer standalone headsets, we didn't have to worry about collisions. This gave the typical virtual reality technology a hint of what augmented reality might look like: the user is no longer alone, secluded in the headset. A wide range of shapes and materials were tried out that day, from arterial visualisations to images of neural forests and cartoon characters.

The last part of the workshop was a "hot seat" situation without a seat: several participants volunteered to tell us the stories they had created in the 3D sketching tool. Cathy, the first participant who took the floor, started with the sketch she had made: a view of the cortex and a sketch of the hypothalamus. She explained the manipulation she is currently doing in the lab, as part of a team working on the treatment of epilepsy. I then asked her to do it again, this time sketching the story 'live' as she went through the same narrative sequence. After a little hesitation ("it wouldn't be optimal"), she responded beautifully to the challenge and sketched the elements of her demonstration again in real time. That was fun! She seemed quite happy with her performance (despite an obvious preference for a cleaner 3D image that could be imported, she said). It was an exciting first result.

Next up was visual artist Vinh, a student at KHB Weissensee. He began by changing the scale with a majestic gesture: the previous cortex sketch became a small dot in 3D space, and he immediately began drawing a folded piece of paper in the air. "This," he told us enthusiastically, "is how I get students to engage with art in museums". The students start by folding a piece of paper, then draw a part of an image they like in the exhibition and pass it on to another person who continues the drawing without knowing the previous part. Vinh demonstrated how this works by drawing in this mode for a few minutes while talking about his pedagogical work in this context.

This was a very relevant conceptual contribution to the workshop, as we were discussing different ways of making learning processes more engaging through sketching techniques. I personally felt that he was still sketching in 2D - but he started using 3D extruded shapes and then it became really interesting. What if we introduced the use of 3D sketching for museum visits, we asked ourselves in the final discussion.

This shift from flat to spatial was an important theme throughout the session: participants described tricky anatomical structures in the brain that could not be guessed from 2D images (Thomas), or drew spatial representations of neurons from historical sources to illustrate a conversation about degenerative diseases (Wendy).

Some of the participants had to be "put on the spot" to perform in front of the audience. Linda, a student on the UdK Product Design Masters programme, happened to be particularly graphically eloquent with her 3D technique. She first announced an omelette, but seemed to change her mind at the start of the narrative sequence and ended up demonstrating how to cook an egg, sunny side up, "with ketchup". Linda was obviously more familiar with 3D tools: she made an egg with a brush that creates circular shapes, and asked us how to duplicate objects (she ended up sketching every single pan). This humorous final story said a lot about the nice atmosphere that the sketching activity had created in the group: an openness that is not always easy to emulate.

In the final discussion, we reflected on the different modalities of learning through sketching - for example, sketch mapping as a way of learning a cartographic representation by drawing it many times. Sketching can be a way to disrupt the perfectionist glow of the 3D material used in scientific imagery and bring the focus back to the performance itself and the many ways it brings people together.

Special thanks to Milena Burzlaff for the amazing support!

Teaching-as-Fieldwork: Open Design studio course "Growing Senses"

The Open Design Master students are moving forward on their Laboratory Project, with the common topic of »Growing Senses«. Laboratory Project is the main studio teaching of the third semester of this program between the Faculty of Architecture of the University of Buenos Aires and the Institute for cultural and media studies of Humboldt University. As the mid-term presentations are approaching, I sat with my colleagues designer Frank Bauer and architect Bastian Beyer for a feedback round. Many projects are emerging: we are joining them to design shape-shifting shading devices, protocols for sensing emotional territories, outer heart fountain flows, plant ritual accessories for extra-planetary life, mycelium spatial collaborations, and garden-based divinatory systems.

“In the classroom as in the field, anthropology demands an openness to encounters with the unexpected, a disposition to the moment and its surprises, their unpredictable knocks and occasional gifts.“ (Pandian 2019, 67)

This is a quick graphic report, straight from my fieldnotes.

Fieldwork with: Hyper Haptics, seminar @Weissensee Kunst Hochschule Berlin, 02.11.20

Originally invited to present my ongoing design anthropology project on haptic technologies, I’m currently taking part into and observing with great interest the product design seminar of Carola Zwick, taught by Judith Glaser and Felix Rasehorn at the Art School of Berlin in Weissensee. The presentations of week 2 were yesterday.

Prompted to explore the design of sensations, students have been given a cue to work from: an “onomatopoeia” inspired from a poetic sentence that they have picked at random. They have also been given a specific technique to explore: a memory alloy wire that moves when charged up with energy. During a series of “sprints” workshops and presentations, they are making up haptics sensations through forms and motions animated by these “muscle wires.”

This student has built diverse devices to work on the idea of the “rustling” – a sensation that can be translated in sound as well as on tactile sensation. These moving platforms are tilting under the hand of the user, creating an effect of rustling that is remotely reminding me of frolicking in the high weeds in the high summer. Colleagues students suggest to amplify the sound to make it more “rustly.”

Presentations are projected on the screen: an emphasis on the process and on the documentation of the many steps, as well as its narratives, is strongly encouraged by Carola Zwick and by the teaching team. “This is also design research,” says Judith, “things that should now appear on the CV of designers. Also, we train them to maybe continue onto the academic path.” The exercise of making quick design “sprints”, a term borrowed from computer programming, brings the students to explore ideas in their materiality more dynamically: here, a “slithering of the snake” is transduced into paper and muscle wires in many different iterations. On this phase, none of them is satisfying to the student but nonetheless, the “journey” is captivating.

This student is working on the fluidity and qualities of water. How can we translate them into these semirigid materials? The week before, he started from the fascinating folding of a single paper leaf with the muscle wire. Today, he first shows us the motion of a wave through a cut-out paper shape. Using motion sensor, he tries to convey the impression that the gesture of his hand has triggered a wave reaction in the paper material.

“The final product, which is the key feature and the main goal of most other seminars, generally outshines the whole research process. Usually, in the second week, students are working on the mood boards, doing some field research. With us, they are already in the second rounds of presentation.”

The student expressed some humor, gluing a smiley on his hand to simulate the swimmer’s movement with his fingers. “It’s always nice to have to trigger a smile in a presentation”, says Judith. She also advises to speed up the videos, to magnify the phenomenons, and get them to gain some spectacular features. “Trick it!” – however, the subtlest motions are much appreciated, an insider joy exclusive to the specific aesthetics of design researchers and other technical poets (Simondon would probably love it).

Reading an earlier version of this post, Judith thus commented on this point: “Just to make sure: This is about early prototypes where they maybe did not manage to fully implement what they were looking for yet want to communicate a certain quality, aim or finding. Post producing physical prototypes is an appropriate way to argue concepts and make a point. Because a prototype is about communicating ideas it is an »Illustration of concepts –meant to allow the user to imagine and enact the use case to open discussions.« (Massimo Banzi).”

It’s also a way to get better at writing these stories and cultivating the art of presenting the idea. As Carola Zwick pointed out in the previous session: “your clients are going to pay a lot of money for your ideas. So you own them to be able to tell them in a convincing way!”

Fieldwork: Visit at the Studio 7.5 (with Carola Zwick and Burkhard Schmitz)

Today we went to visit the Atelier 7.5 in Charlottenburg (Berlin) with the project team of Cutting. Carola and Burkhart told us all about the birth of their studio, the development of their signature chairs, the relationship that they have built with the leading furniture company Herman Miller, and the role of materiality and prototype building in their creative process.

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In the kitchen of the studio, a central space in the social life of the studio and the theater of operation of a cook that is permanently employed by the studio, Carola and Burkhard deliver a brief history of their company. How small the first studio was, how they got the interest of that major furniture label, how they took some radical steps that made the business take off more slowly and how this cutting-edge attitude paid in the end. The studio now employs around ten people including the founders and it is now recognized as a major asset in the catalogue of Herman Miller and their products are famous world-wide.

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Kathrin and Habakuk are testing out a new concept of chairs designed to be ergonomic even when working with a laptop: “start-up cool” and yet healthy through design! The room has tall windows that give a lot of light and a view on the water surface of the canal outside. It is filled with samples materials, on tables and on a stylish catwalk that crosses the room, on which forms are being displayed.

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Carola explains us the story of a new concept that they are struggling to get into production, a mobile battery for conferences and offices. The many iterations of shapes and material silently testify for the hard work that is concentrated in this one latest prototype.

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The latest product of their pioneer design line is called “Cosm”. Lucius seems convinced and is having a very brief moment of quiet. He is here caught day-dreaming of a budget extension that would allow him to sit on this chair everyday at work. Kathrin is having a look at the morphological evolution of the chairs’ iterations, which Carola brings to our attention.

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Lucius and Thomas are listening intensely to the stories that Carola unfolds with gusto. At Studio 7.5, the iterative process and its material contingencies are core to design craft. A series of prototypes stages the development and the overcoming of technical difficulties, slowly giving shape to the latest model, which is never understood as a final development. Very comfortable chairs indeed, and especially with that recliner twist!

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A reliable participant in the design process: the artificial human bottom. We also discuss about the possibility of making chairs to measure, or in various size. It doesn’t work, says Carola, there is some politics at work in design, esp. in the USA, and everything has to be design for everyone: “Figure yourself a situation into which they wouldn’t give you the job because you objectively don’t fit on the chair!“

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Studio 7.5 has been experimenting for many years on additive manufacturing, from polymers to concrete. Here, Kathrin is testing the solidity of outdoor furniture that looks like a mesh of lines spread by the machine. Behind the grey cardboard room separator, a co-worker is silently making progress on a 3D-model. The studio has come a long way in controlling each aspect of the production process through hands-on experiments and prototyping. They have become experts in bridging digital models and materials products. Carola explains that they are being paid on a royalty model, as it constitutes a fair share of risk and reward for both. They are considering ourselves not being a service provider but a development partner.

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“Demo or die!” claims Carola, the motto of the MIT of the early 80’s converted from programming to product design. In the workshop, Krzysztof is working on a piece. All has to be tested at very early stages with material models. They refrain buying new machines, because devices have great influence on the creation process. The visit is over soon after. The performance is very convincing and is a demonstration of how staging is an intrinsic part of the job of top-level designers. Materials, devices, prototypes: the true actors of this theater are given full credit for their part of the job.