Antenna

We Live in an Ocean of Air, which is now open to the public at the PHI Centre, is London-based collective Marshmallow Laser Feast’s latest genre-bending VR exploration of the connections that link humanity and the natural world. Gaining international prominence with their previous pieces In the Eyes of the Animal and Treehugger:Wawona, MLF has since become one of the world’s leading creators of virtual reality experiences. We Live in an Ocean of Air continues their thematic exploration of the hidden networks of nature, this time centering on the process of breathing in natural life.

Set in the Sequoia National Forest in Northern California, the exhibition draws a parallel between the oxygen we need to survive and the life-giving properties of forests. Meditative in both pacing and subject, the exhibition erases the boundaries between the body and the air surrounding us to show how natural processes such as respiration form a symbiotic relationship between humanity and organic life. As I put on the audio-visual headset, strapped motion sensors to both wrists, clipped a heart rate monitor to my earlobe, then put on an electronic backpack to which everything was connected, I was accompanied by a feeling of impending departure from the normal world and entrance to another, different universe.

We Live in an Ocean of Air shows how natural structures, such as currents of oxygen and the structure of our lungs, are both necessary and invisible, unseen and yet beautiful. I felt myself arrive at a new visual, if not sensory, understanding of how the shared need for air connects us with the organic process of vegetative life. There was a dreamlike quality to the feeling of exploring the forest. Much like breathing underwater, walking through a digital environment defies the software encoded into our brains through millions of years of evolution, not to mention a lifetime of experience. I was at times awed by the novelty of the exhibition, but there was also a tranquility to its vision which made me feel like I was somewhere completely new and yet familiar. Paradoxically, the 20-minute experience was, in a way, an escape from the uneasy relationship I personally have with my phone and computer, and it gave credence to the idea of “virtual travelling,” which may prove a unique way to experience new environments for a fraction of the environmental and financial cost. Though our obsession with technology has severed many of our connections to nature, it is ironic that VR can help us renew those connections without the excessive carbon consumption produced by plane travel. The unique sensory and visual aspects of the experience bridged the gap between nature and technology and asked me to reconsider my role as a consumer of natural resources.