I’ve been thinking about how we relate to the Earth, not just as a resource or a background setting to our lives but as something alive, reactive, and full of signals we often overlook. Seismic activity, for example — we usually hear about it only when it causes damage. But the Earth is moving all the time. Quietly. Continuously. Sometimes violently, sometimes imperceptibly. You can actually listen to it if you try. And maybe that’s where this project started for me — not in a big concept, but in the curiosity of what it would be like to really hear the Earth.
This idea came to me as a kind of phrase that felt half-memory experience, half-invitation. It doesn’t resolve neatly. “Gods” brings in a mythic layer — totemism, ancestral presence, the idea that forces greater than us live alongside us, or maybe even inside the natural world. “Earth” is the physical, the matter beneath our feet. “Sound” is both literal and metaphorical — it’s vibration, but also communication, and maybe even emotion. And “Familiar”… I think that word matters most. It’s what makes it human. Something in us already knows this, even if we’ve forgotten.
This project isn’t one specific work. It shifts between art, science, and technology— sometimes it’s a sculpture embedded with data and technology or even just a set of transmedia experiments I keep reworking. I’m not only just chasing a final form as artistic practice but also more interested in the process of making— of using technology to sense things that are often invisible. Or, maybe visible but disregarded.
I’ve been struck by how frequent earthquakes are — not just the big ones that make the news, but the small, constant ones. They’re like a heartbeat. A lot of them never reach us physically, but still, they’re there. And then I look at how people respond. Sometimes with care. Sometimes with conspiracy. It’s strange, isn’t it? That something real, something physical, can get tangled up so fast in artificial narratives — AI-generated misinformation, panic, and socioeconomic factors. I think part of me wants to hold space for the rawness of it — the original signal — before it’s distorted.
Maybe that’s the deeper thread: we’re surrounded by signals. From the Earth, from history, from myths we don’t fully believe in but still somehow carry. And with the tools we have now – sensors, data systems, even machine learning – there’s this possibility to reconnect. Or maybe reinterpret. Or just… sit with it. Let the Earth speak, and don’t rush to explain everything. Some days I think this is about heritage. Other days, about listening. Maybe they’re the same.
ARTISTIC PROJECT:
.2024
.Inter-Totem