With the texture of water as inspiration, I created acoustic panels that not only absorb sound, but play sound when touched.
Using Rhino, I converted photos of water in various states- from clouds to rivers, to kombucha bubbles- into heightfields.
I then created plaster molds for the tiles by pouring plaster into CNCed foam.
And recycled paper into pulp, often using excess pages from my Textural Translations book, which inspired this project.
I then pressed the pulp into the plaster molds, though not all of the tiles de-molded easily. Once the tiles were dried and de-molded, I assembled them into a variety of shapes.
Ultimately, I created three larger, modular panels.
To bring this project full circle, I learned how to work with arduino so that when someone touches the panels, they play sounds of water. Each panel plays a different sound, such as water boiling in a kettle and dripping through a water filter.
I also created a poster to accompany this project’s exhibition at the UIC School of Design Year End Show.
The poster text reads:
Kitchen gloves. Rain boots. Utensils. Our experience of the world is mediated by objects, many of which protect us from water. From bacteria, to fish, to us: without water, there can be no life as we understand it. Yet in the west, water has come to be seen as a temporary experience or a state to be endured. Can it become part of our everyday,sensual experience of the world?
Water shapes the texture of the world. Flowing water erodes mountains. Glaciers carve the earth. Water moves to fit any shape it encounters. Paper, food, clay: dried water bonds materials together. But in our daily encounters, wetness disappears.
Materially, water does not have a texture of its own. Visually, it is texture rich. Its formless nature can make it appear rough, fluffy, sticky, glassy, spiky, powerful, harried, excited, angry, pacific. Water is a chimera, not just of form, but of meaning, experience, and emotion. Water is a haptic blank.
As water resources become more scarce, will we become further divorced from water as a tactile experience? Or will we increasingly treasure our interactions with the water inside and outside our bodies? Can we leverage water’s chimeric nature to change our experiences and perceptions? How many connections to real water must be present in order to retain meaning? By activating our senses and multiplying our connections, can designers encourage people to value mundane yet endangered resources? By interrupting our dissociation from water, can we learn to treasure it and slow its pollution?
This project capped my first year of graduate school.
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