During the deep Maine winter of 2024, I began experimenting with Slime Mold in my studio. To be clear, there were no actual Slime Molds present: the experiment was to see what might happen if I invited the intelligence of Slime Mold to come create with me.
How did this come to be? Slime Molds have captivated many artists because they repeatedly challenge our assumptions. They have outperformed human engineers, have over 700 sexes, and help NASA map dark matter.
What drew me in, however, was the ability of certain Slime Mold cells to switch between individual and collective states. Sometimes, when conditions deteriorate, independent cells—which shortly before were functioning on their own—come together in a visible superblob that ‘strategizes’, locomotes and hunts as one organism.
Right in front of our eyes, ‘many’ can, in ways we don’t totally understand, transform into ‘one.’
The (Surprise) Process
And so, one Tuesday morning, I stood in my studio and asked, aloud, “Slime Mold intelligence, will you collaborate with me?”
Many surprises ensued. A series of powerful impulses arose and immediately co-opted my studio practice:
I began making explosive bilateral marks for days and weeks.
I began drawing those marks on glass—a new surface for me.
I became obsessed with sporulation and the force that causes spores to eject.
One morning I woke up…completely left-handed. I had to brush my teeth, tie my shoes, and write left-handed, and felt a sense of grounded elation.
And on that fateful left-handed day, slime molds started drawing pictures of themselves when I wasn’t looking.
The Initial Outcome
Bilateral marks on glass—typical of the weeks after I asked Slime Mold intelligence to collaborate with me.
The same drawing, now with a possible self-portrait of an erupting spore. It emerged while I was cleaning and, for who-knows-what reason, left the studio to get tea after spraying Windex on the marks without wiping it down first.
The Evolution
I continued my practice of bilateral mark-making on glass. Over the next few weeks, a number of spore-looking drawings emerged. As humans do, I became rather blasé about the whole thing. One day, however, something wholly new appeared that startled even me.
I had used my (by-then) typical process of drawing, spraying, walking away, waiting to see what arrived. I fully expected more spores. What I got instead was something that looked an awful lot like a Slime Mold fruiting body with spores floating upward, one by elegant one.
Did they find me to be an apt pupil in collective intelligence? Did they blow me a cheeky kiss by outdrawing me?
I doubt I will ever get straight answers (and we humans do love our straight answers). I can say that shortly after this experiment, I was compelled to study how human groups think, perceive, and solve problems differently than individuals—a question that now sits at the heart of my participatory installations.
I do feel this was an experience in which Slime Mold intelligence somehow prepared my brain to take part in a two-way experiment, with very peculiar, ongoing results. I can also attest that the entire adventure was just a boisterous, enormous amount of fun.