The Wet Commune is an installation composed of bacterial cultures grown from saliva collected from various people. The cultures are housed in Petri dishes and connected by copper wire, forming a living circuit that feeds into bio-mediated sound devices. Using code written in SuperCollider, biological input is translated into MIDI data, which is then used to compose, modulate, and distort a soundtrack. The soundtrack incorporates an excerpt from Biocosmist Poetics by Alexander Svyatogor, a Russian poet, anarchist, and founder of the anarcho-biocosmist movement, read by an AI voice.

The work positions saliva both as a site of intimacy and contemporary biopolitics, where the medium is closely associated with biocitizen profiling, policing and forensic science. The work revisits avant-garde concepts of bio-techno utopia as a commune where biological processes, coded systems, and architecture might co-compose a sensory environment in which the kinetic forces of biology, intimacy, and technological mediation are no longer separate conditions, but active forces shaping one another.

Green Sun is a video projection displayed on the motorized rotor and blades of an air purifier. As the blades spin, the moving image produces a hologram-like 3D effect, suspending the video in air as a floating, unstable picture. Through rapidly spinning blades and synchronized light, the work links the cycles of the machine to the cyclical movements of nature.

The video is composed of clips of crowd gatherings found on social media, edited to introduce abstraction and visual ambiguity. In certain segments, the crowd shifts between figuration and noise, moving between legibility and dissolution. While the work draws from contemporary scenes of crowd formation across different social spheres, it also takes up the theory of Alexander Chizhevsky, the Russian biophysicist and founder of heliobiology, who studied the correlations between solar cycles and mass human movement, war, and political upheaval.

The work explores how energies move through multiple systems — solar, mechanical, and social. The spinning rotor creates a volumetric illusion, allowing the crowd to appear as both mediated spectacle and latent force. Here, rotation becomes a shared formal principle: a movement through which energy is generated, transmitted, circulated, and consumed, binding cosmic cycles to political and cultural intensities.

Pattern Test No.1 is a video work produced by flying a lightweight drone toward an industrial standing fan in an indoor setting. Because of its small body and limited power, the drone struggles against the fan's airflow, producing a flickering and unstable recording. Mounted at the centre of the fan is a McCollough-effect test pattern. Named after the American psychologist Celeste McCollough, the McCollough effect is a visual aftereffect in which black-and-white striped patterns appear faintly coloured after prolonged exposure to coloured stripes of different orientations.

Variations of similar striped patterns appear throughout contemporary visual culture, from aerial camera calibration targets and resolution charts to psychological image sets used as visual stimuli in perception research. Occupying a space between scientific instrument, experimental image, and optical illusion, these patterns have long been used to probe the conditions through which vision is measured, calibrated, and conditioned.

The work explores the dynamism between aerodynamic force, machine vision, and perceptual conditioning. As the drone fights to maintain its position, the camera image vibrates against a pattern that already destabilizes the relationship between colour, orientation, and visual adaptation. Originally developed within psychological research on visual perception, the McCollough effect occupies an uncertain territory between physiological response and image production, where seeing itself becomes subject to conditioning and interference. As a contemporary optical apparatus, the drone mediates between environmental force, technical vision, and perceptual cognition.

In the final installation, the footage is projected through a glass cube positioned on a steel utility cart. As the light passes through the glass, the image is split into staggered horizontal fragments and subtly colour-shifted. The projection extends the optical instability of the original recording into the exhibition space, transforming the drone's encounter with airflow into a layered field of refraction, vibration, and perceptual uncertainty.

Chlorophyll Grid is a photosynthetic image-making experiment in which a grid pattern is manually assembled and applied to a monstera leaf. The pattern is built diamond by diamond across the curved, irregular surface of the leaf using simple masking tape. The work explores the relationship between manual pattern-making and computational systems of spatial organization. Constructed through a slow process of eye-hand coordination and repetitive labour, the grid contrasts with the algorithmic operations that automate spatial division in contemporary modelling, rendering, and imaging technologies. It also draws on the modernist tradition of the pictorial grid, particularly artists such as Agnes Martin, where the grid operates as both an abstraction and a structure suspended between cognition and the pictorial plane.

The process draws on traditional subtractive printing techniques such as etching and stencilling, but on a living plant surface the image is never fixed. Over time, the masked areas are prevented from producing chlorophyll, leaving lighter traces across the leaf. As the plant continues its metabolic activity, chlorophyll gradually returns and the pattern slowly dissolves.

In contemporary biotechnology and climate observation, chlorophyll has become an important marker of ecological condition. Satellite ocean-colour datasets use chlorophyll-a concentration and remote sensing reflectance to monitor the health and productivity of marine ecosystems as well as the global carbon cycle. Within this context, the leaf may be read as a living index: a biosynthetic surface with its own metabolic intelligence. The grid mediates several visual languages simultaneously, from modernist abstraction and cartographic division to computational models for organizing and measuring space. Here, chlorophyll is imagined not only as pigment, but as a calculative medium—a material process capable of registering, encoding, and transforming information.

Fluid Dynamics Studies is a series of DIY misting apparatuses built from ultrasonic transducer chips. Designed to generate fine vapor through high-frequency vibration, these studies draw on a lineage of artistic and architectural practices that use atmosphere to shape perception and space, including Fujiko Nakaya's large-scale fog installations and works such as those of Teresa Margolles, where atmosphere is charged with biopolitics and collective memory. 

These small prototypes are used to study atmospheric effects, diffusion, and mist as a microclimate and milieu that moves between human and non-human systems. The studies function as working models for larger installations and an ongoing investigation into atmosphere as both a material condition and a political space.

Britannia is an ongoing research project centred on the former Britannia copper mine, located on the traditional territory of the Squamish Nation in British Columbia. Operating from 1904 to 1974, the mine transformed the surrounding mountain and watershed through an extensive infrastructure of tunnels, mineral processing, and water movement. Britannia now occupies an unsettled terrain between industrial ruins, historical preservation, and the ongoing work of environmental remediation.

Water continues to carry the mine long after extraction has ceased. Moving through exposed sulphide minerals, subterranean passages, creeks, and treatment infrastructure, it circulates the chemical afterlife of copper through the landscape. 

Acid mine drainage forms when sulphide-bearing minerals exposed by mining react with air and water, producing acidic runoff that carries dissolved metals through the landscape. At Britannia, it persists as an active hydrological condition, moving through fractured rock, subterranean tunnels, creeks, and treatment infrastructure before entering Átl’ḵa7tsem / Howe Sound. Along this passage, water crosses mineral, biological, and technological thresholds: from mineral surfaces and fungal and microbial communities to the tissues of Pacific herring, salmon, rockfish, sea stars, harbour seals, and other marine life. 

The water also passes through the threshold of the machine. Within the Epicor water treatment plant, acidity is neutralized with lime, while dissolved metals precipitate, gather through the addition of polymer, and settle into sludge.

In my material experiments, water collected from a creek near the mine is atomized through DIY mist apparatuses. The water enters the gallery as vapor, producing an ephemeral atmosphere before settling again as mineral and metallic deposits on floral foam surfaces. What was dissolved in the stream returns as residue, translating an otherwise dispersed chemical process into a visible trace.

Project site: https://britannia.cargo.site/

Stay With Your Tribe is a series of works developed through an extended process of learning to isolate, cultivate, and image bacteria. The project considers bacteria as a living medium of exchange between bodies and their airborne environments, complicating the boundaries between self and surroundings, intimacy and contamination.

The series consists of several related elements: a microscopic image of a rare bacterial strain printed on Mylar and illuminated by an LED light tube; a print made from a scanned Kimwipe, a laboratory tissue used in bioscience research; and a pair of nitrile gloves marked by fluorescent protein residue visible under ultraviolet light.

The title comes from a large bacterial drawing cultivated on a black charcoal agar plate. The phrase Stay With Your Tribe, originally taken from a friend’s tattoo, is formed using skin-swab samples and personal care products collected from the same person, alongside a white-pigmented bacterial culture isolated from soil. As the bacteria continue to colonize the plate, the text gradually dissolves and becomes unreadable. 

Spent Landscape is an ongoing research project exploring spent mushroom blocks—the compressed mycelium and agricultural substrate left after mushroom cultivation—as sculptural material. Working with biowaste collected from rural mushroom farms, the project develops small prototypes for larger-scale structures and examines how an exhausted growing medium might enter another cycle of use. Extending from material experimentation into the ecological supply chains of mushroom farming, Spent Landscape considers waste as reproductive and regenerative. 

Sun and 80 Consonents is a multimedia installation composed of a living mycelium sculpture, a bio-sensing device, sound, and a plate of sand. An Arduino-based system monitors electrical activity and environmental changes within the fruiting mycelium. The collected data is converted into MIDI and processed through code written in SuperCollider, translating fluctuations within the living substrate into sound.

A speaker positioned beneath the sand plate transmits the sound as vibration, causing the sand to shift into changing cymatic patterns. As these patterns form and dissolve, they gradually distort the geometry of the sand mandala.

During the exhibition opening, mushrooms were harvested from the mycelium sculpture, accompanied by a conversation about cycles of growth and harvest, as well as the afterlife of spent mycelium substrate as biowaste and its afterlife amonst the farming community.

The work was developed with the support of the Canada Council for the Arts.

 

Matadero is a research project developed during a residency at the Institute for Postnatural Studies in Madrid, Spain. Using an early version of DALL·E, I generated mandala-like patterns informed by the architecture and history of Matadero, a former slaughterhouse repurposed as a contemporary cultural centre.

Drawing a parallel between the visual complexity of AI-generated imagery and the pattern and geometry of Tibetan sand mandalas, the project explores different approaches to pattern-making and their relationships to ritual, craft, and emerging technology.

During the residency, participants also created an experimental collective publication titled We?, with each person contributing texts and drawings. The publication extended the project’s interest in collective making and brought together different responses to the residency’s shared questions and research.

CUERPO Collective Body is a fluid body of artists with a shared goal of fostering ephemeral ways of knowing - a practice where intimacy, embodiment and care may intersect through the creative process. Conceived by artist and educator Guadalupe Martinez, the resarche projects centre of knowing and enquires how it may exist within the very function of art production and art education.

From 2019 - 2025, I have been an active member of CUERPO. Through collective projects, we explored ways of to articulate sensations through engagement with everyday objects, deep listening, drawings, and embodied writings.

Supernormal Vision Machine is an installation that invites viewers into a pinhole viewing mechanism. A custom-made glass vessel is housed within a black box affixed to the gallery wall, while a computer monitor positioned behind the vessel projects imagery at a forty-five-degree angle. Inspired by the scallop's distinctive mirror-like retina, the bottom of the glass vessel functions as an optical interface that refracts and concentrates the projected image.

The video consists of a visual translation of Moss Code into sequences of black-and-white binary stripe patterns. Generated from the names of sixty-one endangered species from the Pacific coast of British Columbia, the coded sequences flash rapidly and cycle continuously. Viewed through the pinhole aperture, the patterns produce a flickering optical effect that hovers between signal, image, and sensory stimulus.

Accompanying the installation is a Moss Code translation chart from the names of the endangered species used to generate the video sequence. 

The work was exhibited at The Polygon Gallery as part of The Lind Prize 2021, an exhibition featuring finalists for the Philip B. Lind Emerging Artist Prize.

Terra is an installation that explores urban ecology through an assemblage of living and geological materials gathered from an undeveloped city lot along Broadway in Vancouver. The project approaches the static site as active environments where biological, geological, and historical processes continue to unfold.


The installation consists of a compost habitat monitored by a bio-sensing device that registers fluctuations in the living conditions of the earthworms. The data is translated into MIDI signals through an Arduino-based interface and composed in real time using code written in SuperCollider. The resulting sound is transmitted through a surface transducer attached to a copper plate, causing charcoal and coal residues to vibrate into evolving cymatic patterns. 

In a miliue of code, matter and energy transformation, the work considers the concept of “breath” across multiple scales: from the movement of organisms within the soil, to the transmission of sound, to the temporality of a urban site awaiting transformation. 

Night Stories is a series of video projection on various urban spaces. At the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, I wrote a series of short texts reflecting on the shared experiences of isolation, boredom, restlessness, and the blurring of work, leisure, and social life through digital screens. As the pandemic reshaped collective rhythms and forms of social interaction, the texts became a way of reflecting on new experiences of distance, intimacy, labour, and connection. Each text begins with an unnamed character—the worker, the swimmer, and others. Composed of exactly ninety-nine words, the texts use abrupt line breaks and omit punctuation, producing a continuous flow intended to accelerate the act of reading.

After dark, I travelled through the city with a portable generator and digital projector, projecting the texts onto arbitrary architectural facades across different neighbourhoods. Due to public health restrictions, the streets were often largely empty. The persistent hum of the generator occasionally drew residents to their windows, where they encountered the projections from a distance. In a moment marked by social withdrawal and uncertainty, the work sought to create small encounters in public space and a fleeting sense that something was still happening.

Field Condition is a series of drone photographs that provide a bird’s-eye view of various urban locations where I staged public interventions using domestic objects. Captured from a bird’s-eye view, the images reframe everyday materials as temporary spatial markers,drawing attention to overlooked sites and everyday infrastructures while examining the relationship between body and urban space.