
Affective choreographies are produced by artistic performances and performances of daily lives, particularly within digital cultures. They integrate the intensive forces of affect with a choreographic sensibility of bodies, structures, data, environment, and emotions being constantly reconfigured. They are accessed and composed by means of phenomenological reflection and provoke a reconsideration of what constitutes a body. The mixed reality artwork CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance is one example.
Keywords: affect; choreography; phenomenology; performance; somatics; mixed reality; AI
Inside the many debates swirling around the rapid rollout of so-called artificial intelligence, there is a relatively obscure skirmish focused on the choice of the word ‘hallucinate’.
A profoundly affective and embodied verb, to hallucinate means to find oneself transposed into a parallel and not entirely recognizable or comfortable sensory state. The cultural hallucinations of which Naomi Klein speaks can be dangerously performative, producing new actions, behaviour, and beliefs — in effect, new ontologies shaping the presence of artificial intelligence (AI) in daily life. The artistic research project CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance had Beginning of page[p. 98] its premiere at the ICI Berlin during the ‘Performing Embodiment: Practices of Reduction’ symposium. This work used mixed reality technologies to reactivate the embodied states of the dancers in the choreographic archive of Margrét Sara Guðjónsdóttir and was supported by the German AUTONOM initiative inviting artists to experiment with AI.2 In this chapter, I argue that performance-making and phenomenology can be seen as closely entwined acts of praxis concerned with reflecting and shaping embodied existence. Joining the growing body of writing on affect, I propose that the logic of juxtaposing phenomenology with performance is not simply additional, but is compositional; or, to use the language of dance, it is choreographic in the sense that not only can phenomenology be used to attend Beginning of page[p. 99] to affect, but the performance of phenomenology creates affective choreographies. This accentuates the practical dimension of affect, and it places phenomenology squarely in the fields of art, dance, design, and activist politics — any field where changes are implemented by means of close attention to beings in motion. It provides a way to reflect upon and choreograph the ‘hallucinations’ of AI along with the other material manifestations of technological developments.
The argument that a combination of phenomenology and performance produces affective choreographies reflects a turn towards practice or methodology. The question of methodologies, both those used to conduct research and those that research seeks to transform, has taken on an urgency in present cultural and academic worlds. This demonstrates a need on the part of scholars and artists to transform disciplinary practices from ‘within’ to account for what is ‘without’ and, in so doing, to render porous the boundaries separating the inside and outside of disciplines and institutions. Methodologies are broken into methods, recombined, hybridized, supported by tools and toolboxes, integrated, legitimized, discredited, marginalized — either as a deliberate strategy or as an act of aggression — queered, mainstreamed, instrumentalized, celebrated, or condemned; all in the quest for new constructions of knowledge and enactments of change. Anyone navigating this as an artist, researcher, teacher, or human being runs directly into multiple questions of ‘how?’ How do we access complex situations and confounding data? How do we capture them? How do we make sense of them? How do we legitimize the processes? How do we act on them while respecting Beginning of page[p. 100] the lives and histories at the centre of our research (including our own)? How can we activate our disciplinary knowledge and expertise in the face of multiple crises? How can we mobilize methodological rigour, transforming when necessary, but not throwing inherited knowledge overboard in a panic? How can we do all this ethically?
Methodological constraints and blind spots are felt by researchers at all stages, in simple as well as complex investigations. These constraints are particularly evident when affective phenomena are being explored. In one of those rare but valuable moments of spontaneous discussion at the transmediale media art conference in Berlin several years ago, a pair of presenters let down their guard and permitted their concerns to emerge. It was as if the disciplinary police (or the academic superego) had not yet awoken on that final Sunday morning. One presenter revealed the affective nuance that emerged from their careful and empathic ethnographic processes, yet, when asked to describe in greater detail the affective states demonstrated by their interviewees, they faltered. They were aware that a potent affective range was evident in their study — fatigue, powerlessness, boredom, apathy, frustration, depression — and they knew that these distinctions needed to be refined, but they could not find a way to account for such fine-grained qualitative description within their methodology. It was clear that they felt they were not permitted to let ambiguity, speculation, or, even worse, their own subjectivity enter their research processes. To do so was to risk the legitimacy of the whole project. In their words, they and others faced a significant methodological challenge in conducting the research that most mattered to them. Nevertheless, they were drawn to inquire into the sort of real-world phenomena that effectively broke their methodological and conceptual structures. They were at a loss.Beginning of page[p. 101]
The presenters were certainly not alone in this headlong collision with the conditions for legitimacy of a chosen field. This happens to many of us, in any number of academic disciplines and artistic fields. It might place us in a situation of having to plan an ‘escape route from academia’ — words spoken by a media artist at that same conference. Another option is to transform scholarship from outside but in close counterpoint with academic institutions, as has been done so powerfully by Sara Ahmed in recent years.3 Alternatively, we might decide to develop our ideas and practices from within, by the pragmatic means of ‘limitations, adaptations and inversions’, as proposed by A. N. Whitehead in his resonating reflections on process at the heart of reality.4 Or we might attempt methodological inversions by a combination of all three: within, without, and proximate.
Methodologies are practices that can bind or liberate, blind or authenticate. Those that are designed to attend to affect, and simultaneously shape it, take on a subtle and potentially invasive character. An engagement with affect invites, provokes, even requires a capacity to attend to what is happening — and this nexus of attention is where phenomenology is located. The ontological stakes of cultivating acts of attention are high, particularly when what one is attending to is barely graspable, or unsayable. Judith Butler points to this when they assert that dominant forms of representation within media coverage of war constrain what can be seen, heard, felt, read, and known, ultimately shaping ‘the lives that are marked as lives and the Beginning of page[p. 102] deaths that count as deaths’, asserting that in present times ‘our capacity to feel and to apprehend hangs in the balance’.5 They offer a parallel argument when, several years later, they claim that the ability to respond to acts of violence reaches the limits of a framework that governs what is sayable and whose lives are grievable. A new ‘compass of mourning’ is called for, one that integrates bodily responses within language and politics.6 This reveals that the act of attending to something or someone is not a binary state, as in responding with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ to the question ‘Are you paying attention?’ Attention is composed from acts of apprehending, noticing, performing, and speaking that can be cultivated, dampened, expanded to include other beings, or refined to respond to other states of being.7

CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance was part of a long cycle of artistic research into archiving that investigated the potential for archival practices to enact performances of memory while simultaneously cultivating a critical stance on the massive impact of data technologies upon the bodies of people living under regimes of surveillance capitalism.8 This work uses mixed reality (MR) techniques and Beginning of page[p. 104] technologies to create a new performance out of the archival material of choreographer Margrét Sara Guðjónsdóttir. Her work can be seen as a choreographic example of reduction for composition. Closely aligned with methods for enacting phenomenological reduction, her technique is based on the dancers’ performing a meditative practice by which processes of thought and movement are suspended, with the intention to release deeper and more intense somatic states. Guðjónsdóttir refers to these as hyper states. This practice of concentrated inner sensing produces a ‘Full Drop into the Body’ — the name of Guðjónsdóttir’s technique. Once in these states, dancers embody different affective and dynamic qualities, often accessing autonomous movement.9



How is it possible to engage philosophically with this work, to account for the complicated practice of somatic reduction that is evident in CATALYSTS — Catherine Jodoin’s internal rippling (Figure 2), Suet-Wan Tsang’s trance-like state (Figure 3), Laura Sigemund’s dropping into her body (Figure 4) — and to investigate the phenomenological states produced by the re-choreographing of this material into a mixed reality installation? Two layers of embodied performativity intersect in the installation: 1) that of the dancers in the archival material; and 2) that produced by the layered interactions of the mixed reality choreography (encompassing people, devices, media, and the physical space). The work can be read as a presentation of archival documentation, but it is intended to Beginning of page[p. 106] function on a deeper level, activating somatic responses to the MR choreography. These somatic responses exist partly autonomously but partly because people reflect on them; this work ‘catalyses’ by means of phenomenological reflection, which is to say that phenomenologies of affect both respond to and create affective choreographies.10Beginning of page[p. 107]
The juxtaposition of the two terms, affect and choreography, sets up a relation between philosophical thought and artistic practices. Affective choreographies becomes a frame for understanding both artistic performances and performances of daily lives, particularly within digital cultures. It integrates a philosophical understanding of the intensive forces of affect with a choreographic sensibility of bodies, structures, data, environment, and emotions being constantly reconfigured. Both affect and choreography need to be reconfigured prior to juxtaposing the terms. Not presuming to answer the question ‘what is affect?’Beginning of page[p. 108] in broad terms, I provide instead seven ways to approach affect. These do not make up anything as fixed as a definition; instead they can be seen as orientations towards understanding and moving within affective choreographies.
Beginning of page
[p. 109] a vibrating state that is always in the process of giving way to another configuration.The artistic practice of choreography is expanding, widening what constitutes choreography and what counts as dance, at the same time as challenging who or what can be considered a choreographer. The acknowledgement that patterns of social movement can be considered choreographic is generally accepted, but can algorithms choreograph?Beginning of page[p. 110] Do animals produce choreographies? Do choreographers have to produce movement in time and space?
Dance historian Susan Foster points out that choreography as a term is used widely to refer to the structuring of movement, and not simply human movement. She offers a layered conception. Choreography refers to the kinds of actions performed, their sequence, and an overall plan or score that reveals how the movement of a whole unfolds. It can designate minute aspects of movement or the broad contours of a large terrain of multiple actions: buildings choreograph, cameras choreograph, birds perform intricate choreographies, protein complexes choreograph DNA repair, operatives in call centres engage in improvised choreographies, web services choreograph interfaces, and family therapy sessions constitute a their own form of choreography.14 The variations of scale and actants evident in Foster’s approach is complemented by the cybernetic approach offered by Michael Kliën, who prefers the term framemaking to choreography. Where choreography is a ‘metaphor for dynamic constellations of any kind, consciously choreographed or not, self-organizing or artificially constructed’, framemaking places greater emphasis on improvisational aspects of movement, setting conditions for relations to emerge. In this way it can become an ‘aesthetics of change’.15 André Lepecki contributes a related transformative perspective by anchoring choreography not just within politics but within political ontology. He unties the unquestioned alignment of dance with movement by examining choreographies of exhaustion and stillness that critique the ideological formations of late capitalist Beginning of page[p. 111] modernity.16 He rethinks the temporality of dance, so that it is not the fleeting art form existing only in the moment and disappearing once that moment has passed. With relevance to performances of memory, he writes that being should not be confused with being-present.17 The sedimentation of presence that makes up rituals, collections of artefacts, and the sharing of memories is addressed by other approaches to choreography, thereby opening it beyond the artistic towards a myriad of social interactions.18
The formulation of affective choreographies continues to expand the questions of who or what constitutes a choreography; it provides a central place for improvisation; and it emphasizes the material and ontological status of movement. Crucially, it opens to an awareness of choreographies occurring within bodies. The exchange of intensities that compose affective choreographies includes the somatic dynamics of bodily systems such as the immune system, the nervous system, connective tissue, blood circulation, and rhythms of breath. Affective choreographies include memories and fears, with their traces in tissue and bone. Many somatic practices demonstrate qualities of immanence not simply for cultivating interoceptive awareness, but for activating states of change that elude clear subjective control and collapse rigid constructions of the Beginning of page[p. 112] subject.19 This embodied experience of slippage and opacity is captured by Deleuze, demonstrating the highly performative or practical qualities of his thought. When he discusses immanence and refers to ‘consciousness with neither object nor self, as a movement that neither begins nor ends’, he could be describing the reconfiguration of perception and subjectivity cultivated by somatic movement practices.20 These practices confront us with the lived reality of perpetually dipping into pre-existing flows and rhythms, with no real starting point or closure to our investigations, and no solid self as a reference point. His words on entering into the flow of movement, ‘[o]ne never commences; one never has a tabula rasa; one slips in, enters in the middle; one takes up or lays down rhythms’,21 describe the practical experience of affective choreographies, echoed by the phenomenological description of listening provided by Jean-Luc Nancy, ‘the oto- or self[auto]-produced sounds that come to mingle with received sounds, in order to receive them…’.22
Affective choreographies invert two tendencies latent in traditional perspectives on Western choreography: the Beginning of page[p. 113] first is that individual dancers have control over their movements and clear awareness of the boundaries of their own bodies; the second is that a choreographic whole is bounded within time and space, composed by regulating overall patterns within this spatio-temporal unit. Addressing the first, affective choreographies require a reconfiguration of the notion of body towards a play of improvised and unexpected forces, thereby challenging many unquestioned protocols of control and direction embedded in the choreographic process. Even the valuable Spinozan formulation of ‘bodies affecting and being affected’ is inverted. Notice what happens when we imply that bodies are affected prior to bodies affecting, when we conceive of being impacted prior to exerting the agency of affecting things and people outside of us. Precarity and vulnerability become foregrounded. For Dorothée Legrand, working across phenomenology and psychoanalysis, the forces shaping bodies are real and fictional, with the subject suspending certainty about which is which in the surge of existence. Suspension is imbued with vulnerability in the process towards healing.23 Similarly, in her investigation of brain plasticity, philosopher Catherine Malabou evokes improvisational choreography occurring in the brain when she describes the movement and transformation of neural pathways produced by head trauma. Impermanence and accident supersede any sense of fixed identity, for new patterns may explode upon us without the comfort of advance knowledge. This destructive plasticity enacts a form of negation that ‘frees up the possibility of another story’, but one Beginning of page[p. 114] that cannot be known or imagined in advance.24 Zooming outwards, this is arguably what is happening presently with the barely controlled ripple between hope and panic surrounding predictions on the impact of AI: vast numbers of people are suddenly in the position of being affected prior to being able to affect.
Now combine this with an inversion of the second tendency in choreography, that of starting from individual dancers and regulating them within contained spatio-temporal patterns, and notice what happens when choreography is multiple, relational, cross-temporal, and cross-material. Philosophers Yuk Hui and Harry Halpin have posed a question that invites a choreographic response: ‘Instead of asking how atomized individuals form collectives, we must find out how a collective social network changes and shapes individuals, and take this phenomenon as primary.’25 This inversion poses a challenge to anyone trained in dance and choreography, or indeed to most artistic practices that originate in the studio prior to migrating to external locations. A guiding question could be: what might it mean to start from large-scale networked exchanges, including the large data sets required by AI, to re-choreograph or re-design relations between the individual, media systems, and the collective? The intent is not to say that everything can be viewed choreographically, but to emphasize that affective choreographies are open to diverse Beginning of page[p. 115] material composition and scales, and produce new forms of agency and knowledge.
Research in phenomenology is flourishing. Postphenomenology,26 queer phenomenology,27 feminist phenomenologies,28 micro-phenomenology,29 phenomenology of the alien,30 alien phenomenology,31 and critical phenomenology32 populate a vibrant field of research responding to the need to find new ways to account for the complexity of lived experience. This work demonstrates various ways that the philosophical tradition of phenomenology is, to revisit the words of Whitehead, being adapted and inverted or, to use the language proposed in this chapter, is being performed, composed, or choreographed to meet the exigencies of our times.Beginning of page[p. 116]
Phenomenologies of affect can be considered ‘process phenomenologies’ because they are investigations of dynamic processes and are themselves processual, which is to say that they do not follow a rigid set of instructions and do not necessarily reach a final conclusion.33 For this reason, they exist as a series of variations and are open to further modification and adaptation. They are not, however, completely free-form. They were developed from a set of practical and theoretical shifts I myself had to make so that I could question affect in my artistic and philosophical research into archives and memory. Without these shifts I found it impossible for phenomenological processes to be able to attend to the particular intensities of affect. Affect slipped between the web of attention of even the sensory and kinaesthetic phenomenological method that I proposed in my earlier writing.34 Practically speaking, the intensity, dynamics, indeterminacy, and liminality of affective experience made most phenomenological approaches feel like blunt tools. Affect shimmered around and through the processes of attending to it. In order to be able to get anywhere at all, the modes of attention I set in motion had to be shaped by that to which they attended.
This is not such a shocking statement if one considers the work of many phenomenologists, for even Maurice Merleau-Ponty, writing on perception in the mid-twentieth century, revealed the fact that the world is shaped by our perception of it, and that our perceptual processes are transformed by what they perceive. This is Beginning of page[p. 117] at the root of his famous ‘chiasm’, where subject and object fold into one another as the seeing-seen and touching-touched,35 and the vibrant, undulating world reaches out to palpate the painter.36 Other, more recent phenomenological writing takes this further, such as Jean-Luc Nancy’s careful deliberations of listening,37 Sarah Ahmed’s explosion of phenomenological certainty into directions and orientations,38 and Roland Barthes’s oblique and poetical considerations of the neutrality of affect.39 These writers’ thought demonstrates the plasticity, responsivity, and uncertainty that permits phenomenology to be performed rather than simply used as an analytic framework.
Phenomenologies of affect can be broken down into three basic moves. As with affective choreographies in the section above, these moves do not make up a solid definition but can be approached as critical and creative reorientations.
The first move is to release the ‘body proper’ (corps propre) that animates much phenomenological writing and Beginning of page[p. 118] replace it with a radically different construction of bodies as dynamic, affective, and plural.40
It is impossible to really understand affect as an exchange of intensities without shattering the sense of a contained, homogeneous body into a body-in-flux that moves, thinks, feels, lives, and dies in relation to other bodies. Such bodies are not defined in terms of the human or even the organic. Animals, land, and water can be considered as bodies, but so too can bodies be mechanic, algorithmic, imaginary, or conceptual. This reimagining of the body may coincide with the cybernetic movement and recent developments in AI, but it is best illuminated by Spinoza. Throughout his Ethics, he carefully constructs a notion of the body that is based on movement, rest, and relation to other bodies:
All bodies either move or are at rest.
Each body moves now more slowly, now more quickly.
Bodies are distinguished from each other in respect of motion and rest, speed and slowness, and not in respect of substance.
A body which is in motion or at rest must have been determined to motion or rest by another body, which was also determined to motion or rest by another, and that again by another, and so on to infinity.41
Once the pervasive human/non-human distinction is released, bodies can be understood according to two Spinozan propositions, rearticulated by Deleuze: kinetic and Beginning of page[p. 119] dynamic. According to the kinetic proposition, a body is fundamentally in motion; it is ‘a complex relation between differential velocities, between deceleration and acceleration of particles. A composition of speeds and slownesses’; according to the dynamic proposition, ‘a body affects other bodies, or is affected by other bodies.’42 This latter is the proposition cited most often, for it opens interactions beyond just human bodies. A third quality of bodies, less frequently cited but pertinent to affective choreographies, is that they experience increases and decreases in the power of action. This is to say that they live according to different intensities, exhibiting differing degrees of vitality. They get sick, they recover, or they die. As bodies circulate, they combine with other bodies into communities of beings.43 The body’s innate social dimension is emphasized by Moira Gatens and Genevieve Lloyd:
To be an individual — a determinate self — at all is to be embedded in wider social wholes in which the powers of bodies are strengthened or impeded. To be an individual self is to be inserted into economies of affect and imagination, which bind us to others in relations of joy and sadness, love and hate, co-operation and antagonism.44
Attuning phenomenological methods and concepts to align with Spinozan bodies helps to break out of the latent solipsism and the more pernicious sorts of humanism occasionally attributed to phenomenology. Once bodies are understood as perpetual and dynamic compositions, phenomenologies of affect can be cultivated to attend to affective choreographies. This occurs by attending to Beginning of page[p. 120] motion, by attuning to the multiplicity, fragmentation, condensation, weaving, and distribution of beings as they respond to and create affect. Bodies are not units within choreographic patterns set by choreographers; they are composed of a play of forces engaged in mutually generating choreographies, and they actively compose such choreographies. The shattering of the contained body and its reconfiguration into myriad forces means that such a body not only engages in affective choreographies — it is these choreographies.
The second move is to use the plural form of phenomenology. Phenomenology becomes phenomenologies, a set of practices enacted by more than one person.
It is easy to fall back into the singular form, respecting the philosophical lineage, but the reminder of plurality is crucial not simply for the sake of permitting the work of a variety of bodies but for the variations and unevenness that can happen in one’s own processes. Plurality of what is sensed follows from the plurality of who does the sensing.
Related to this is the way phenomenological method is neither a formula nor a tool. Phenomenologies are ways of attending to experience — of apprehending. What seems as if it comes hardwired into human perception is in fact multiple learned processes, including how to perceive, how to listen, what to attend to, how to move through the world, where and how one is permitted to move through the world. It is not simply that we have become lazy and forgotten how to notice things but that, returning to Butler’s argument for the need to cultivate new modes of attention, what we see and hear, and the ways we express our grief and joy, are controlled in order to constitute the Beginning of page[p. 121] public sphere.45 In saying that attention is controlled, or cultivated, the implication is that it is rehearsed, repeated, modified, and iterated. Perception is not a universal or innate capacity. It is a composite set of cultivated practices.
The reminder that phenomenologies are plural is faithful to the actual practices of conducting them over time. This makes sense when research or artistic processes are collaborative, with contributions by more than one body, but even a solitary or isolated researcher is never just one voice. They are likely to conduct many phenomenological explorations over time, of different phenomena, with and alongside other bodies. Their body changes and recombines over time. The plural form is generous to research. It removes the pressure of ‘nailing it’ the first time around, and it recognizes that research is rarely done in exclusion from other bodies (human and non-human). It provides the breathing space to conduct plural investigations and to appreciate the transformations wrought by the performance of phenomenologies, as is captured by the next move.
The third move is to make a direct connection between phenomenology and performativity by recognizing that phenomenologies are performed and performative.
This argument has permeated this chapter thus far. Saying that phenomenologies are performed means that phenomenology is a practice or set of practices; saying they are performative means that they are ontologically and epistemologically generative. Phenomenologies, when applied as methods, must be enacted or done, and with this doing something else is brought into being. This is key: phenomenology Beginning of page[p. 122] does not just describe what is there, it changes what is there through description, opening towards analysis, interpretation, and subsequent material transformation. The ontological dimension of any methodology is that some things come to be through their application, and other things/beings/thoughts are excluded or rendered invisible. This points to an equal imperative for the cultivation of an ethics alongside phenomenology.
This move reflects contemporary phenomenological scholarship that emphasizes the practice inherent in phenomenological philosophy. Such a reframing focuses on the ways in which phenomenology is a ‘performative exercise’ and opens its potential to intervene in the social world: ‘Phenomenology, therefore, does not correspond to a theoretical doctrine but embodies an exercise to be enacted from the first person perspective. It involves a transformation of our own personal experience.’46
CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance requires a custom-made app for it to function.47 Augmented, mixed, and virtual reality (AR/MR/VR) systems and applications are no longer regarded as sophisticated technologies, but the goal of this artistic project was never to foreground complex or sophisticated technologies, nor was it to indicate that reaching for latest-generation tech is the best way to boost creativity in digital cultures. The opposite is more accurate: we do not have to reach for complex technologies; the complexity Beginning of page[p. 123] and sophistication are coming to us. And by this I do not mean that we have increasingly ‘smart technologies’ at our disposal, as Westerners with disposable incomes and increasingly disposable technologies. The technological sophistication that is available to us, or even forced upon us, now occurs largely in the algorithms and analytics that are performed on the data extracted by our devices, in the networking protocols that link these devices, and in the artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning (ML) increasingly embedded in the functionality of these devices. Frequently, the algorithms exist to ‘personalize our experiences’ or to enable devices to become better at ‘helping us’, for example, to avoid mistakes or to compose entire texts. Instances of the encroachment of algorithms into our personal lives are numerous and range from the shocking, such as the recordings of domestic life by Amazon’s digital assistant Alexa being routinely listened to by engineers to ‘improve’ its functionality, to the banal, as in the location tracking performed by almost every app, whether or not this is required for the service. The example I now offer seems to lie on the banal end of the spectrum. It is an instance of algorithm-supported mistake avoidance, but, when examined critically, this small autocorrect glitch reveals wider implications for the policing of corporeality. It also reveals how affective micro-events can linger, provoking phenomenological reflection.
I sent a message on the messaging application WhatsApp to choreographer Margrét Sara Guðjónsdóttir, referring to her strangely successful meditation experiment using Zoom that connected people in several European countries.48 I wrote to her that I felt a palpable quality of Beginning of page[p. 124] shared experience, calling it a sort of ‘morphic resonance’. I was reflecting on how affect operates through the resonance of bodily practices even across distances using mediated platforms, and suddenly found myself thinking that this was a way of revitalizing Rupert Sheldrake’s controversial coining of this expression from the 1990s with possible links to Hartmut Rosa’s more recent work on resonance.49 I discovered some time afterwards that WhatsApp’s autocorrect function had intervened and translated ‘morphic’ resonance into ‘moronic’ resonance.
Easy to dismiss at the time, and perhaps trivial, yet the more I thought about it the more objectionable it became. This is not simply because the word is an anachronistic slur pertaining to neurodiversity but because it points to widespread algorithmically induced normativity operating even on micro levels. I could not escape the sense that this was yet another example of an inbuilt bias against bodies and diversity in our technological systems. As with everyday sexism, such a bias makes itself known in ways that span the banal to the shocking — often both at the same time. Consider the embodied and cultural biases embedded in how facial recognition is least effective for women with dark skin,50 how speech recognition applications are constructed around the so-called ‘Harvard sentences’ of the white male voice,51 and how the emoji skin tone modifier Beginning of page[p. 125] is constructed in Unicode with white as a default colour,52 to say nothing of predictive analytics and the homogenization of bodies and movements enacted by many network protocols and internet-of-things-activated devices.53
A sensitivity to this flattening of difference, and to the imposition of a hierarchy of values, coincides with a desire for things to be otherwise with our designed systems. But even more than this, the work of feminist philosophers does not only argue for different forms of agency and subjectivity but begins by first noticing when people and bodies have been ‘eclipsed’. Malabou uses this word when she argues that the category of woman is not biological or cultural but refers to a subject ‘overexposed to a specific type of violence or negation’, like the way the bodily sensibility of a morphic state is negated by the basic AI embedded in WhatsApp.54 This act of calling attention to norms and biases that are so embedded as to be invisible, whether subtle or egregious, is at the heart of intersectional and decolonial scholarship.55 A choreographic understanding of norms takes note of how they shape the movement of Beginning of page[p. 126] people and institutions. More so, choreographers are experts at working the eclipse; they can either make their presence evident or hide their influence so that movement seems spontaneous or improvised.56 This means that a choreographic perspective can do more than identify obvious patterns of movement — it can foster an awareness of when movement is shaped by structures and forces that operate on hidden levels.
This chapter began with Klein’s piercing and reorienting of the word hallucination, as used by AI developers to describe the fictions and mistakes of large language model (LLM) generative AI chatbots that are confidently presented as truth. Klein points to an unacceptable crisis in accountability when the tech sector appropriates a word used in psychology, psychedelics, and mysticism to prop up its ‘cherished mythology’ that current developments in AI ‘are in the process of birthing an animate intelligence on the cusp of sparking an evolutionary leap for our species’.57 Her argument is not based on a battle over who owns the word. Starting from the embodied state of hallucination, followed by a material analysis of the current functionality of AI, then moving towards a frightening extrapolation of its potential uses, Klein can be seen as enacting a variation of phenomenological reduction to launch a cultural critique.
CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance, together with nineteen other artistic research projects funded by the AUTONOM initiative, performed related reductions by Beginning of page[p. 127] grounding algorithms in the creative embodied practices of the performing arts. Unsurprisingly, the reflections and the work that was produced reveal diverse and highly critical engagements with algorithms relevant to artistic practice and to society.58 As part of the CATALYSTS development process, we questioned AI, evaluating its potential use for kinaesthetic and somatic choreographies. We were particularly cognizant of how algorithms used to analyse what exists can easily be adapted to shape what has not yet happened and be used for prevention and control. This pivotal moment when AI analytics becomes AI predictive analytics was decisive for us, resulting in the decision not to import additional algorithms or AI beyond what was already embedded in the basic software developer tools that supported the camera recognition and visual processing we needed to obtain a minimum but stable level of functionality.
Recognizing that the artistic intention in creating CATALYSTS was to work with deep somatic layers and to provoke affective responses, we cultivated a stance of extreme care over which AI-enabled tools we used and which algorithms we developed ourselves (or chose not to develop). We crafted a statement of guiding principles:
As artists,
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[p. 128]We recognize that we are not entering a new field, nor are we entering a domain that is purely computational. This is a dense and provocative field with precedents, tensions, conflicts, and both overt and hidden agendas. We join a wider social movement towards seeing and challenging AI’s power by working with algorithms, not by avoiding them. We maintain the right to refuse to implement algorithms simply because they exist. Working with these contentious choreographies of affect, we can be utopian, but we can’t be naïve.Beginning of page[p. 129]
This research was supported by the Data Society Research Program of Malmö University in Sweden. CATALYSTS — Somatic Resonance was supported by the Fonds Darstellende Künste with funds from the Federal Government Commissioner for Culture and the Media, NEUSTART KULTUR #AUTONOM; Malmö’s Inter Arts Centre (IAC); The Icelandic Ministry of Education, Science, and Culture; Open Spaces festival, Tanzfabrik Berlin; WUK performing arts, Vienna; and the ICI Berlin for its premiere in 2022.
Further, I would like to acknowledge the support of the Department of Literature and Philosophy of the University of Florence (DILEF, Dipartimento di Lettere e Filosofia). The seminar series ‘Technology and Embodiment’, which I led while I was a visiting professor at DILEF, helped to refine the ideas.
© by the author(s)
Except for images or otherwise noted, this publication is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.© 2026 ICI Berlin Press