The journey that led me this calling was accelerated by my founding of Data Garden as a record label and media arts group in 2011. Originally established to serve as a home for my sound work, the project evolved into a digital hub dedicated to exposing people to electronic music through the windows of history, science and community.

Online curation of primitive media art and early interactive systems combined with a fascination for ideas related to the nature of creativity and expression lead me on a path of research and investigation into how I might explore my own vision of future - one that would eventually manifest itself through my tenacity for exploration and expression.

In 2012, after curating and producing the first of two highly successful outdoor arts festivals (The Switched-On Garden) at Bartram’s Garden in Philadelphia, Data Garden was invited to develop a temporary sound installation for The Philadelphia Museum of Art. My good friend and Data Garden co-founder, Alex Tyson, had an interest in plant-generated work at the time and suggested that we work together to produce our own piece entitled Data Garden Quartet.

Working closely with engineer, Sam Cusumano, I was able to access a real-time stream of MIDI data generated by fluctuations in conductivity over the surface of a leaf for use in the generation of an immersive audio environment. This is when I got my first taste of the power of bio-generative art.

With Quartet exhibiting for three days in my city of residence, I felt it was essential to spend as much time as possible in the exhibition space in order to observe how people responded to the emerging soundscapes being generated by the plants. Each of the four plants was assigned its own instrument and its own speaker to allow guests to perceive in real-time which plants were having the greatest fluctuations in conductivity at any given moment. The sounds were designed to be harmonious, with the intent of encouraging guests to spend time with the piece – to slow their minds down and encourage listening deeply to subtle fluctuations in data.

While my role in designing the sounds for Quartet made me intimately aware of the relationship between the music and data, I was surprised to observe how some members of the audience, without any prompting, were able to pick up on these fluctuations as well. I remember an instance where Sam and I explained to some 6th graders how the system worked and one of the first reactions of a member of the group was to wave his hands in the direction of the plant as if he was emitting light from his hands. I remember lounging and reading Buckminster Fuller’s Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth only to be interrupted four times by enormous spikes in activity in the music coming from across the room. Each time, upon raising my gaze, I could see that there was nobody touching the plant – nobody interfering with the integrity of the data by grounding it with their own body. These changes seemed to be happening independently, within the plants themselves, while the person nearest to the plant was a few feet away. That person attracted my immediate attention.

To my surprise, each time I sprang up and engaged an individual, explaining why I was moved to approach them, their first reaction was, invariably, something along the lines of: “That makes sense.” Not: “What?”  or “Oh, really?” No, just: “That makes sense,” followed by their own explanation of why. “I’m a botanist.” “I’m a florist.” “I’m an energy healer.” “I’m a Reiki instructor.” 

Among this group, there was a common thread. They all either worked closely with plants or with channeling energy, and they all felt it was perfectly natural that data from a plant being monitored for galvanic variation should be more greatly affected by their presence than most others. This was completely puzzling to me. It seemed to be anecdotal evidence pointing toward a hypothesis that there are unseen phenomena that some people are more tuned into than others and that these unseen phenomena can be monitored by using a plant as a probe in a room. Thinking back to how these folks waved their hands at the plants, it also seemed as if there emerged somewhat of a consensus as to the appropriate body language for connecting energetically with a plant.

While all of this inspired me, my feeling was that my role as an artist was not to answer questions related to these phenomena, but to create more opportunities for people to have these experiences. If this work was truly compelling, it would inspire qualified scientists and/or passionate hobbyists to take autonomous action. Meanwhile, I focused solely on the presentation and development of my artistic practice.