Author: elina.dorzhieva

I recently watched a talk on YouTube called Immersive Installations? Digital Experiences in the Exhibition, with Mollie Dent-Brocklehurst, Felice Grodin, Rafael Lozano-Hemmer, and moderated by Brian Droitcour. Out of all the speakers, Rafael Lozano-Hemmer completely captured my attention. I didn’t expect to feel so inspired or emotionally affected by an online discussion, but his work and the way he talks about art really stayed with me.

Before this, I knew his name but not much about him. Rafael Lozano-Hemmer is a Mexican-Canadian artist who works somewhere between architecture, technology, and performance. He represented Mexico at the Venice Biennale, has exhibitions all around the world, and his works are in MoMA, Tate, MUAC and many more. But honestly, it wasn’t the biography that impressed me, it was the way he thinks.

Border Tuner

The first thing that really moved me was his project Border Tuner (2019). This installation connected people across the US–Mexico border using controllable bridges of light. When two people pointed their lights at each other and the beams intersected, a communication channel opened and they could talk.

This idea is simple but incredibly emotional. Families who were separated got to speak, people flirted through light, strangers made jokes, shared feelings, or told stories. The installation didn’t just enable communication, it created a moment of human connection in a place normally associated with division and politics.

This reminded me that art can and should be political, and it can be political in a very human, poetic way. It doesn’t have to scream; sometimes it just needs to open a space.

You Can Never Predict the Public

Another project he mentioned was Vicious Circular Breathing (2013), a sealed glass room where visitors are invited to breathe the air that previous visitors have breathed. To me, the concept sounds honestly quite nasty, and Rafael admitted that he thought people would refuse to participate. But surprisingly, every single visitor wanted to experience it. People lined up for it.

For him, that unpredictability is one of the things he loves most:
the artwork changes based on how the public responds.
You can never fully control or expect it, and that’s exactly what gives the installation life.

This thought stayed with me because in interaction design we often try to predict every user behavior. But maybe the beauty lies in not predicting everything, in letting people transform the work.

Immersive Art Is Not New

One important point Rafael made was that immersive art is actually not something new. Engaging, participatory art has been around for decades. What’s weird is when museums pretend this trend is suspicious or “too modern,” while at the same time people are spending eight hours a day on screens.

The world changes, and museums should naturally evolve with it. Ignoring immersive digital experiences is almost like ignoring reality. I liked how calmly he explained this, it felt obvious, yet refreshing to hear.

The Cutting Edge of Immersive Installations? Poems.

One part of Rafael’s talk that really stayed with me was when someone asked him what he thinks is currently the “cutting edge” in immersive installations. And instead of mentioning VR, AI, lasers, or anything futuristic, he just said: poem reading.

His point was that the future of immersive art is not about technological development. It’s not about using the newest toy or the most complex software. Technology shouldn’t be the point of the artwork. It should only be there to help express the idea.

And then he said something that I absolutely loved because it was so honest and funny:
he basically admitted that the only reason he works with technology is because he “can’t write shit.”

I found this extremely grounding. It reminded me that interactive art shouldn’t try to look impressive just because of technology. What matters is the thought behind it. The message. The emotion. The reason the piece exists.

Advice for Young Artists: Start Small

At the end, someone asked how young artists should begin. His answer was simple but very practical:
start small and prototype.
Make something tiny first. Play with it. Test it. And then bring that prototype to museums, companies, or organizations. If you try to do it the opposite way, you’ll spend all your time searching instead of creating.

I found that advice really motivating, because it makes the whole process feel much more doable. You don’t need a huge team or a massive budget to begin, you just need a small idea and the courage to try.

Final Thoughts

Rafael’s talk genuinely inspired me. It made me reflect not only on immersive installations but also on my own approach to interactive technologies in art. His examples were emotional, political, poetic, and deeply human. And his way of thinking, valuing meaning over novelty, unpredictability over control, and simplicity over technical showing-off is something I want to carry into my own work.

https://www.lozano-hemmer.com/vicious_circular_breathing.php

https://www.lozano-hemmer.com/border_tuner__sintonizador_fronterizo.php

AI was used for corrections, better wording, and enhancements.

I recently finished reading 100 More Things Every Designer Should Know About People by Susan Weinschenk, and honestly, it turned out to be one of the most fascinating design books I’ve read in a while. It’s very simple on the surface, just “facts about people”, but so many of them made me stop and think about how much design actually influences us and how little we understand about the way humans perceive the world.

The book covers everything from how to make people pay attention to specific parts of a design, to what makes people buy things, to how different colors and styles work differently for different genders. But the parts that surprised me the most were the ones about human perception.

For example, I had no idea that some women are tetrachromats, meaning they have four cones in their eyes instead of three. They literally see more colors than most people, but they don’t even know it, because the entire world is designed for “normal” vision. This idea blew my mind a bit. It made me think about how much design assumes an “average user” who doesn’t really exist.

Another thing that shocked me was the fact that movement improves memory. I always thought you had to sit still and concentrate to learn something. But apparently if you walk around or move while learning, you actually remember better. This really made me reflect on museums and how often they expect visitors to stand still, read, stare—and then somehow magically absorb information. Maybe movement should be part of learning.

One thing that made me genuinely happy was the chapter about daydreaming. According to the book, mind wandering is actually very important for creativity. I always noticed that I come up with better ideas when I’m just staring at a wall, spacing out, not forcing myself to think. I thought it was just me being weird or unproductive. But it turns out this is how our brain forms new connections. So now I feel like my way of thinking isn’t wrong—it’s actually useful.

But the part that really grabbed my attention more than everything else was fact number 100. It was about how our brain processes sensory information unconsciously, and that it doesn’t really care where the information comes from. The example was David Eagleman’s “vest” that sends vibration patterns to the body. After some time, without special training, people could understand what the vibrations meant. So the vest basically created a new sense.

This idea amazed me. That we can literally create new senses. That the brain is ready to learn new types of information if we just feed it signals in a consistent way.

It feels almost like science fiction, and I can’t believe this was already happening ten years ago. I haven’t heard much about this vest since then, which is strange, because to me this opens so many possibilities.

For my master thesis, I’m working with interactive technologies in art and museums, and this idea of creating new senses suddenly feels extremely relevant. If the brain doesn’t care where information comes from, then why should art experiences be limited to audio guides and screens?

If people can “learn” a new sense simply through exposure, then maybe museums could help visitors experience art in more immersive and emotional ways. Not just by showing more information, but by expanding perception.

https://dokumen.pub/100-things-every-designer-needs-to-know-about-people-9780136746911-0136746918.html

AI was used for corrections, better wording, and enhancements.

I visited CoSA in Graz twice this year, first during the free museum night, and later as part of our gamification class. Both times, I was struck by how different this museum feels compared to traditional exhibitions. CoSA is built around interactivity: projections, physical installations, mixed-reality elements, and playful tasks that invite visitors to touch, move, and explore. It’s clearly targeted at a younger audience, probably Gen Z and younger, and it embraces that energy fully.

During my first visit, I went through the financial literacy exhibition, and things went downhill pretty quickly. Very early in the experience, I interacted with a rotating “helicopter” screen that projected information in a spinning, vibrating way. It was visually interesting, but also extremely disorienting. I immediately felt dizzy, and the motion sickness stayed with me for the rest of the day. Normally, I would blame my own system for being sensitive, but after reflecting on inclusive design in my previous blog post, I realized how important it is to account for this. If I struggled, there are definitely people who would struggle even more. Interactivity is exciting, but not every body reacts the same way, and this is something experience designers often forget when creating “wow effects.”

Another challenge I noticed throughout the museum was the amount of information. Many exhibitions were packed with text, explanations, and tasks. As much as it hurts to admit it as a Gen Z person, I found it genuinely hard to focus and stay engaged for long. It reminded me that attention itself is a design material, and designing for young people may require clearer prioritization, pacing, or layering of content.

Despite that, there were moments where CoSA really shined. My favorite installation was a hospital-like scenario where you could assess a patient, analyze blood samples, and make a diagnosis. Another one was a car-building station where you could assemble different parts, load your custom vehicle into a game, and actually drive it. Both experiences captured my attention from start to finish, and they had something important in common: almost no text. They were intuitive, tactile, and driven by action rather than reading.

But even here, I noticed a tension: without the audible explanations from the museum guide, it wasn’t always clear how to start or what the goal was. And this raised a bigger design question in my mind:
How do you balance clarity and playfulness?
Too much text makes everything feel heavy and academic. But no explanation at all can make visitors feel lost. The sweet spot is somewhere in between, and it’s something I want to think more about in my own design practice.

Overall, even though my experiences at CoSA were mixed (and influenced by dizziness, energy levels, and mindset), I still appreciated the museum for what it tries to do. It’s rare to see exhibitions that encourage touch, movement, experimentation, and play. With a bit more balance between interaction and guidance, and more sensitivity to different types of bodies and perception, CoSA could become an even stronger example of how museums can evolve for younger generations.

And next time, I’ll try to visit without triggering my motion sickness first.

This year at the World Usability Congress in Graz, one of the talks that stayed with me the most was “When Responsibility Meets Reality: Strategies for Making Inclusive Design Happen” by Nina Hundhausen, Strategic Designer and Accessibility Lead at Deutsche Telekom.

As someone working in interaction design, I spend a lot of time thinking about user needs, empathy, and human-centered experiences. But this talk pushed me to look at inclusive design not only through a design lens, but as something deeply political, organizational, and cultural.

What I appreciated most was how honestly she described the gap between intention and execution. Designing inclusively isn’t just about adding guidelines on top of a project or checking off WCAG requirements at the end. It’s about changing mindsets, shifting team cultures, and making accessibility a shared responsibility instead of a niche specialty. She showed how inclusive design only works when everyone, from product managers to developers, feels ownership and understands why accessibility matters beyond compliance. Her examples from Deutsche Telekom made this feel very real: sometimes progress happens through structured processes, and sometimes through small, persistent conversations that gradually build awareness.

My main takeaway from the talk was that inclusive design becomes possible only when it becomes human. It’s not about designing for “edge cases,” but designing for real people with real lives and remembering that we all move through different levels of ability throughout our lives. I also realized how important it is, as a designer, to advocate for inclusion even when the environment isn’t perfectly set up for it. We can start small, ask the right questions early, and make accessibility part of the normal design conversation instead of an afterthought.

Listening to Nina made me reflect on my own process. I often think about users’ emotional and physical needs in interaction design, but accessibility is something I still tend to treat as a “later” step. Her talk reminded me that accessibility isn’t a separate layer, it’s part of creating meaningful, humane experiences from the very beginning. And even if we can’t solve everything at once, taking responsibility in the small moments can already move a team toward more inclusive outcomes.

AI was used for corrections, better wording, and enhancements.

Author: Nadina Husidic

Title: Immersive technology applications in the museum environment, Challenges and opportunities

Year of Publication: 2022

University: Halmstadt University
Degree: Master Thesis in Informatics, 30 credits

Overall presentation quality:

The thesis is well structured and readable: it contains a clear abstract, introduction of the field, literature review, methods, empirical findings, discussion and conclusion. Headings and flow are logical; methodology and analyses are presented in a conventional academic format. The writing is generally clear and scholarly.

Degree of innovation:

The thesis addresses a recognized gap: much prior research focuses on visitor experience, while this study centers strategic stakeholders’ perspectives (museum directors, curators, municipal/institutional reps) on immersive technology adoption. Framing the question from a stakeholder/organizational perspective is a meaningful contribution for practitioners and IS (information systems) researchers. The synthesis of challenges vs opportunities (innovation management, design value, organizational model; and operational efficiency, social sustainability, experience design) provides an original, practice-oriented thematization.

Independence:

The project demonstrates independent critical thinking: the author designed interview guides (informed by literature), carried out primary interviews (Mar–May 2022), coded and thematized results into conceptually meaningful clusters, and related findings back to literature. The work appears to be student-led with appropriate academic supervision.

Organization and structure:

The structure is logical and the document follows a coherent path from literature to methods to findings and discussion. Themes are explicitly described and supported with interview excerpts, and the discussion links themes back to theoretical sources. The RQ is clearly stated and the findings map directly to it.

Communication:

Language is generally precise and academic. Interview quotes are used effectively to illustrate themes (e.g., “You must make something more of an artifact with technology.” and concerns about complexity and resources). A couple of spots would benefit from tighter editing (minor language slips, occasional long paragraphs), but readability is high overall.

Scope:

For a 30-credit Master’s thesis the scope is appropriate: the literature review and the focused empirical interview study match the expected depth. The author makes sensible delimitations (stakeholder perspective, Swedish cultural heritage context). If anything, some areas (e.g., more systematic sampling detail or deeper methodological reflexivity) could be expanded, but this is within normal limits for this credit level.

Accuracy and attention to detail:

Citations are present, arguments are referenced to literature, and interview evidence is carefully quoted. There are few formal errors; referencing seems adequate. A more explicit account of coding procedures (how many coders, inter-coder reliability, coding software, or a codebook appendix) would strengthen methodological transparency.

Literature:

The literature review draws on appropriate, current sources across XR/immersive tech, museum studies, narratology and digital transformation. The author used Scopus and Google Scholar to identify relevant studies and anchored the thesis in contemporary debates (visitor experience vs organizational adoption). A systematic PRISMA-style search is not claimed; the literature appears curated rather than exhaustive — adequate for the study’s aims.

Overall assessment:

This is a solid Master’s thesis that meets academic standards for a 30-credit Informatics project. It is especially valuable for its practitioner-oriented thematization of strategic challenges and opportunities for immersive technologies in museums. The work demonstrates independent thinking, a clear structure, adequate literature integration, and credible empirical data collection and analysis.

The main limitation relative to some CMS expectations is the absence of a hands-on artifact, the thesis’s contribution is analytic and strategic rather than a demonstrable interactive prototype. If your assessment rubric gives heavy weight to produced artifacts, deduct accordingly; if the rubric prioritizes critical analysis and scholarly contribution, this thesis scores well.

Disclaimer: This blog post was written with the help of AI (ChatGPT) for better structure and phrasing.

After the challenging process of installing sensors and wiring up the interactions, I finally reached the most joyful part of the whole project: decorating the miniature room.

I started with some structural additions. I built a small door using cardboard and a special stopper that helps align it with the beam sensor, making the door interaction more stable. The bed and drawer were already completed in the previous phase, as I had to integrate the sensors inside and hide the cables early on.

Next came the laptop corner. I created a table and chair from cardboard to support the distance-sensor interaction. Then I built a small cardboard laptop with a hole where the LED light could shine through when activated, just like turning on a real screen.

But the real fun began with the tiny interior details. I made a carpet from folded toilet paper, and also used toilet paper to decorate the lamp to give it a soft, cozy look. For the bed, I crafted a blanket from tissue and fabric scraps, used a cotton pad for the pillow, and made the whole setup feel warm and lived-in.

To make the room feel more personal, I added a compact mirror next to the drawers, just like I have in my real room, and decorated the walls with Japanese-style poster stickers and a postcard featuring a girl from a Yoshitomo Nara painting. After all, this whole miniature-room concept was inspired by Nara’s “My Drawing Room” installation, so it felt right to include a small homage.

Finally, I placed a few small toy decorations and plushies around the bed area, echoing how I decorate my own space. It truly felt like revisiting childhood, like playing with a dollhouse, but this time with all the layers of interactivity and intention that come with a design prototype.

After testing everything on the table, it was finally time to bring the sensors into the tiny house I built. That’s when the real chaos and magic began.

Phase 1: The First Arduino Set – Doorbell & Laptop

I started simple. The first set of interactions included:

• A doorbell: a button paired with a buzzer.
• A laptop: triggered by a distance sensor, lighting up a small LED and playing a “startup” sound.

To make this work, I did small holes in the house walls to fit the lights and sensors. It wasn’t too hard, mostly about being careful with the details, especially when I had to connect two things to one leg of the button. It was tricky to get stable, and of course, when everything was finally ready, the buzzer went rogue and started buzzing constantly. Turned out it was just a bad connection. I had to redo the whole thing.

Phase 2: The Second Arduino Set – The House Comes Alive

This part was more complex. It took way longer not just because of the number of sensors, but also because I had to design furniture to hide them all before placing them in the house.

This set included:

• A door interaction using a beam sensor to control the main light.
• A bed interaction with a photoresistor that also controlled the main light.
• A drawer interaction using conductive tape to detect when the drawer was open.

The drawer was the hardest part. I didn’t know where to hide the cables. Eventually, I hid them inside the drawers and made small holes in the back wall to run them to the Arduino. Sounds neat? It wasn’t.

When I finished wiring everything and plugged it in… nothing worked 🙁

2AM Debugging and the Classic Mistakes

It was already 2am and I was too excited to sleep without seeing it all come to life. But the drawer interaction wasn’t working, the tape inside had ripped from all the handling, so no signal could pass through. I had to redo everything.

And worse, I had skipped one very important step: checking each sensor one by one. The door sensor was acting weird, jumping erratically between 0 and 1, or not reacting at all. As a beginner, I didn’t immediately see the problem. I tried everything… until I moved the power and ground connections on the breadboard closer to the source. That fixed it. At 4am. And yes, it felt like a small miracle.

P.S. I don’t even have any pictures or videos from trying to fix the door sensor because I was full head inside the problem and could not remember to do videos of how annoying the process was.

What I Learned

• Always test sensors one by one before sealing them into furniture.
• Connections that look “fine” might not actually work, check and recheck.
• Even a tiny sensor setup can break down unexpectedly in a small-scale project.
• Pain at 4am feels worth it when the room finally lights up.

By the next day, everything was running. And with the system installed, I could finally move on to the fun part, decorating the room. I didn’t expect so much to break during setup, but it taught me more than any tutorial.