Wildroot & Amber is an idea still in motion—a sonic installation and performance project that’s just beginning to take shape. Right now, it lives in sketches, sounds, and possibilities. It’s the dream of creating a space where memory, nature, and the body connect in a way that feels alive, tactile, and deeply present.
During my upcoming residency at Studio Kura in Japan, Wildroot & Amber will move from concept to reality. I imagine an experience where sound becomes a way to remember, and objects become bridges to the past.
At the heart of it, Wildroot & Amber will be a kind of living archive—not a collection meant to be preserved, but one meant to be touched, activated, and reimagined. I’m gathering mementos to bring with me—photographs of my mom, old letters, and other small pieces of the past.
During the residency, I’ll pair these and whatever I find along the way—maybe earth, a branch, or something unexpected—with the Playtronica controller and Ableton Live. Each object, placed inside a jar, will become touch-sensitive. When touched, it will release a sound: forest recordings, vocal fragments, melodic pulses, elemental hums.
Why the apothecary reference?
Traditionally, an apothecary was a place of care—a space where remedies were made from herbs, minerals, and roots, each stored carefully in glass jars or wax-sealed bottles.
Long before modern medicine, apothecaries were trusted spaces, blending knowledge and intuition to tend to the body and spirit.
But more than just practical, they were places of hope and preservation. Within them lingered the belief that even the unseen—small tinctures, whispered formulas—could offer something essential. Over time, the apothecary evolved into the modern pharmacy. And in that shift, something personal, something sacred, was lost.
In Wildroot & Amber, the apothecary returns—but not as a place of healing.
Instead, it becomes a keeper of moments.
Not a pharmacy, but a sonic shelf.
Each sound a trace.
Each fragment a container of memory.
The final form is still unknown—and that’s part of the project. It will grow and shift with the place, the objects, and the stories they choose to tell.
…but for now it’s still just a plan.
Full disclosure: my biggest character flaw might just be directions. So I’m leaving a little breadcrumb trail here — partly so I can find my way, and partly so you can find me (in case I drift off into some rice field or forest). I’ll be working out of Studio Kura, an artist residency tucked into the countryside of Itoshima City, Fukuoka Prefecture, Japan. If you somehow end up at Ikisan Station (and fingers crossed, I do too), just give the studio a call at 092-325-1773, and we’ll find each other under the big open sky.
Studio Kura
586 Nijōmasue, Itoshima-shi, Fukuoka-ken 819-1613, Japan