Bubble

"Bubble" draws on recordings of people reading letters written to themselves from an imagined future. The source material was collected, decomposed, and recomposed through a process of iterative audio-visual collage. In this iteration, the spoken text is stripped of its voice and reborn as scrolling type: layered, overlapping, perpetually moving at slightly different speeds so no single message can be fully absorbed. The piece is interested in what happens to sincerity when it is decontextualized and multiplied. The letters were originally private communications between a person and their future self: acts of hope, warning, and instruction. Translated into cascading text on screen, they begin to resemble something else entirely: an automated message, a system prompt, a transmission from an authority that may or may not exist. "Act according to my instructions. People will always suffer. Please do send something back." The same words that were once personal become coercive and unreadable all at once. The visual rhythm is designed to test attention and to ask whether meaning survives repetition, speed, and noise. The dystopian palette and scrolling structure reference the aesthetics of alerts, feeds, and machine-generated text, collapsing the distance between a letter from your future self and a message from a system that has already decided what you should do.