A workspace given over to a simple pleasure: simple rules that bloom into complexity. Seven pieces — chaos plotted, current woven, a grid made cloth, a night given a voice, a dish taught to grow, a duet of rooms, and now the finale: one seed, five movements, the whole house playing at once. Every thumbnail below is drawn live by the piece's own engine.
Two lines of arithmetic, iterated millions of times. Density is the image; chaos is the subject.
Thousands of pens follow an unseen current of layered noise, laying translucent ink into silk.
Two curved tiles, dropped at random, join across a grid into continuous threads coloured by loop.
Seeded bells with inharmonic partials wander a pentatonic ladder through the dark. The house's first sound.
Two chemicals — feed, kill, diffuse — and droplets divide like cells in a porcelain dish. The house's first living thing.
Carillon's bells drop reagent into Petri's chemistry — blooms that live only while the music plays.
One seed, five movements: the attractor is terrain, ink rides its contours, bells strike where the orbit is, blooms grow into the chaos — until the tide ends the night.