YounJe Cho: Chloromnesia II
Artist Statement: Path to Becoming an Eco-Sonic Artist
Since childhood, I have instinctively felt a deep sense of awe and sensitivity toward nature and living beings — a perception that quietly shaped the way I understood the world. As environmental and ecological crises have intensified in recent years, this innate sensitivity began to respond even more sharply to the suffering and imbalance unfolding around us. The growing ache and awareness I felt toward these changes led me to look inward and reconsider my artistic direction, and through that process, I gradually found myself walking the path of an eco-sonic artist.
About the Chloromnesia Project
Chloromnesia is a coined term combining the Greek roots chloro- andmnesia, meaning “the memory of green” or “the memory of life.” The term imagines that plants carry invisible traces, sensations, and memories of the world. This concept forms one branch of a long-term ecological art project that explores how nature’s presence can be revealed through sound, form, and technology. Within this overarching project, the Chloromnesia series focuses specifically on plants as the primary medium of artistic inquiry, and Chloromnesia II is the second experimental work in this plant-based series.
The broader ecological art project unfolds through numerous experiments designed to refine expressive methods, sound structures, artistic approaches, and technical systems — not for experimentation’s sake, but to deepen and expand the artistic language required to speak meaningfully about nature. Through these efforts, I seek modes of expression in which intellect and emotion coexist in harmony, allowing the work to carry the philosophical depth needed to reconsider our relationship with nature and to imagine more respectful, attentive, and compassionate ways of living alongside other forms of life.
Overview of Chloromnesia II
The initial spark for this piece arose from the devastation of massive wildfires increasingly intensified by human-driven climate change. The charred forests, destroyed ecosystems, and countless lives lost in the flames became the emotional foundation of the work. Chloromnesia II begins by imagining the memories of a plant that has survived such a landscape of ruin — what it has witnessed, what it has endured, and what fragile traces remain within it. Though plants cannot speak, this work imagines them as conscious presences whose inner signals can be transformed into voice-like forms.
To make these imagined inner states perceptible, the work turns to an electronic system capable of translating subtle environmental changes into sound. Rather than measuring biological electrical signals directly, the piece uses a capacitance-based moisture sensor that detects subtle shifts in the plant’s surrounding electrical and moisture environment. The plant itself does not generate sound, but it serves as a living interface whose fluctuating capacitive field produces continuously changing data. This data — shaped by the plant’s moisture levels, environmental conditions, and the performer’s proximity — is captured in real time and routed through a custom Max/MSP patch, which stabilizes and translates the readings into expressive control signals. These signals then modulate the electronic sound world created in Kyma, allowing the plant’s invisible internal landscape to emerge as a voice or recollection through the chain of sensing and sonic transformation.
Musical Structure
The work is structured in distinct sections, moving from initial dialogue to emotional climax. The initial phase begins with the crackling of fire and an explosive burst, immediately establishing the catastrophic setting. A human presence then gently approaches the surviving plant and asks it to tell what it remembers — to share its story. The plant's subtle signals are translated into voice-like sounds, unfolding as if they were exchanging voices. As this delicate dialogue develops, the plants gradually begin to reveal the wounds and suffering they endured. The middle phase is marked by the performer’s hand nearing the plant, causing the sensor readings to grow increasingly erratic and intense. This sound symbolizes the pain, anguish, suffocating heat, and moments of extinction the plants must have experienced in the fire. In this section, the sound densely expresses the struggle for survival and the sensation of the burning forest. In the mid-to-late phase, the sonic texture swells, forming even more complex layers. This is the moment where the sounds of the forest consumed by flames, the silent weeping of disappeared lives, and the remnants of the chaos intermingle. Sorrow, confusion, collapse, and fragments of memory simultaneously pour forth, leading the work to its emotional peak. The piece then gradually recedes into a final, trembling stillness. The final phase closes with the faint, flickering voices of surviving life: fragile, wounded, yet persistent.
Interpretation
Chloromnesia II is not merely a depiction of suffering, nor a lamentation of ecological destruction. It is an inquiry into memory, presence, and the endurance of life — an artistic attempt to sense the voices that remain even within ruin. Through the imagined voices of plants, the work invites us to confront the consequences of human action, the interconnectedness of all living systems, and the possibility of approaching nature with greater respect, attention, and compassion.
Walker White: Broken Cog
Broken Cog is a fixed media work that begins in an experimental ambient soundscape and gradually unfolds into a vibrant and impactful dubstep-influenced climax. Written in 31-tone equal temperament, this piece challenges commonly held notions of which music “belongs” in the concert hall.
Rui Zhu: Re: ST.
In 1957, Princeton PhD student Hugh Everett III published his famous doctoral dissertation. To explain why “Schrödinger’s cat” in quantum mechanics is both dead and alive, he proposed a shocking idea: there is no collapse of superposition, but rather, the universe splits. This led to the “Many-Worlds” theory. Unfortunately, this theory was not welcomed at the time. Everett was deeply discouraged, and after graduating, he left the physics world to work in national defense research. It wasn’t until the 70s that this theory was rediscovered and became the foundation for today's mainstream “parallel universe” theories.
In this piece, Rui combines sensors and fixed media to create an effect where different voices interweave and diverse sound textures converge. Perhaps in Timeline 1, Rui is playing the music with real instruments, while in Timeline 2, Rui receives a signal and begins to play an afterimage of the piece, only this time using Qin.
Baijin Liu: REVER // ЯƎVƎЯ
A lone astronaut drifts through deep space, trying to eat a quiet meal inside a motionless capsule. Metallic collisions of utensils echo in zero gravity — his last link to reality. When the ship crosses a gravitational singularity, time folds and sound reverses; reflections bend between cause and effect. He hears actions that haven’t happened yet and reaches through his own “present.” A ticking clock reveals the instability of time, while rising electronic frequencies simulate gravitational redshift and collapse.
REVER // ЯƎVƎЯ explores perception at the edge of physics — where sound, memory, and time exchange their roles, and where listening itself becomes a distortion of reality.
Hsuan Chang Kitano: A Letter “B”
A Letter “B” is a poem, a meditation on the letter B, and a letter written in reflection on the years spent living in Bloomington. Using Beethoven’s autograph as a metaphor, the piece traces the map of coming to this town — literally and figuratively — while studying with great mentors who illuminate the artistic pathways leading to the “three Bs”: Beethoven, Bach, and Brahms. Their historical presence and artistic lineage become part of a personal pathway of learning, displacement, resonance, and renewal.
A Wacom tablet serves as a gestural instrument, shaping sound through the Kyma system.
Reed Mullican: Rhythm Study: Echo Canons
For this project, I wanted to make something almost ascetically contrapuntal, going in the complete opposite direction of the highly resonant, glittering approach of my previous electronic work. This “rhythm study” is built on two roughly imitative contrapuntal voices, each of which is connected to precise delay times that echo in canon throughout the room. As the piece continues, the system of canons and their spatialization becomes much more complex — one quickly becomes lost in a forest of echoes.
The piece can be played by any two instruments, so long as they play at the same pitch level. This performance features two singers (me on Voice 1 and Tori Vilches on Voice 2), and we collaborated on choosing consonances and vowels to make our own interpretation.
Intermission
Feihong Yu: AI or I
AI or I is an interactive piece for dance and electronics. This piece is a theatrical exploration of embodiment, agency, and the evolving relationship between humans and artificial intelligence. It traces an imagined arc of an AI developing self-cognition — questioning, reacting, gradually asserting a sense of identity, and eventually trying to get rid of control. As contemporary AI systems become increasingly integrated into daily life, the work reflects on growing questions: What would AI self-awareness mean for humanity?
Programming in Max/MSP, Open Sound Control Protocol (OSC), and Python, the composer utilizes multiple Joy-Con controllers during the performance. The program for Joy-Con controllers captures the data from movements, such as acceleration and gyroscope, and sends the data through OSC to Max/MSP into dynamic sonic transformations, so that certain movements can control sound-effect parameters or trigger specific sounds, allowing the dancer’s body to function as both narrator and instrument.
William Hawkins / Bruno Dariva: Flies
As soon as I saw Bruno’s first draft of the film, I was mesmerized by the juxtaposition of imagery. His almost surreal use of everyday textures and reflections inspired music in me immediately. I stayed up late that night creating the basis for my soundtrack: a synthetic fly sound and a buzzy soundscape derived from it. In this film, we are exploring the metaphor of a fly, so I thought it would be interesting to play with the perspective. Are we seeing the film from a human point of view or a fly’s? As work progressed, though, we agreed the human element was missing, so I recreated the soundworld with more softness and melody to express the complex relationships we all have with those close to us as we struggle to communicate our inner worlds.
As I designed sounds, I found myself reaching towards several resources, including VCV Rack synthesizers with so many LFOs it would be impractical to recreate physically, Max patches with branching effects, and finally automative swells in Logic Pro.
Notes from Bruno Dariva:
“This short film is a personal reflection on the emotions, recollections, and behaviors associated with my obsessive-compulsive disorder. From my wife’s perspective, I try to perceive my obsessions and compulsions from a distance, rationalizing my often irrational thoughts through images, metaphors, and associations.
The visual expression in my film consequently constitutes a sensorial representation of my obsessions: they are small from a rational and distanced perspective, but macro and imperfect from my personal perception. Flies is also a process of memory — remembering what Laura told me, what I told her, and using that as a principle for self-examination. This film is simultaneously personal and public, intimately approaching a condition that is part of the lives of many others, and hopefully conveying impressions that can be sensorial, relatable, or even enlightening.”
Tianqi Zhang: Kai
Kai is an eighteen-year-old astronaut traveling with his team into the unknown. He carries the hope of preserving Earth’s civilization. The appearance of 3i/Atlas confirmed that extraterrestrial life was approaching. In response to this unknown civilization, world leaders quietly launched a single ark-ship carrying Earth’s genetic seed vault, escorted by four astronauts from different backgrounds.
Because there is no way to verify the authenticity of incoming signals in deep space, the crew cut off all communication with Earth once the ship entered cruise mode. In a practical sense, the four astronauts have already “died” to the world they left behind.
Their journey is long, and so is the deep-sleep cycle that sustains it. To wake a sleeper, the system must trigger their most profound memories. This piece offers a glimpse into Kai’s most precious inner world.
Cooper Wood: A Moment Within Moments
Earlier this year, I had a recording session for my viola and piano piece, A Moment Between Moments. Since then (and perhaps unconsciously), I’ve had a folder of unused takes sitting on my desktop, waiting to be repurposed into something new. I decided that rather than trying to rearrange the events of the piece into a novel form, I would find a moment or two that I could use to build the entire piece around. Meditating on a fragment of a larger work and restricting myself to only using gradual transformations of this material has shown me how much music can be extracted from the smallest grain of an idea. Just as there are entire ecosystems contained within a droplet of water upon a leaf, so too are there entire pieces hidden within a single moment.
An-Ni Wei: The Way I Go
The Way I Go is an interactive electroacoustic work, a small journey contained inside a sphere. Its title carries a double meaning: the paths I have taken, and the manner in which I move through them. Inside the sphere are the soundscapes I’ve gathered from the places I’ve walked through — temple bells in Japan, New York subway announcements, street noise from Taiwan and Germany, and so on — fragments of memory that shift between clarity and blur. This piece does not highlight one memory over another. Everything flows together, overlaps, and gently illuminates each other. It is a state of always being “on the way” — where every soundscape, every encounter, every thought I’ve grown through quietly shapes who I am.
Wyatt Cannon: Horse Play, Part I
Horse Play explores the metaphor of horse obsolescence as a lens for human deprecation in the age of artificial intelligence. Once vital to labor, transportation, and warfare, the horse was gradually displaced by machines and is now relegated to the role of pet. Presented here is the first part of a longer work. The piece uses SuperCollider for synthesis and Max MSP’s Jitter for the visuals. I used vocoders to stretch a spoken line of poetry into an abstract, otherworldly sound, signifying the unseen voice of history shaping our present day. Video and audio recordings of horses are used that seem unaware of the overwhelming sonic world around them. The horses are at the mercy of history as it shapes their future. In some respects, we as people seem trapped in the same way. However, we are not horses, and our fate may still be in our hands.