From Hydrophonics to Interactive Sound Fountains

Johannes Birringer

From “Series One” – Open Studio Exhibition, Derby University April – May 2008.

Although modest and seemingly unspectacular, Caroline Locke’s phrase “seeing sound” – a
phrase she used to describe her interests in creating sculptural sound-performance works
when I first met her in 2004 – has stuck with me. It is an odd paradox, but one that has gained
resonance in recent years as we have moved along with the scientific and technological
advances in a culture obsessed with data visualizations and location mapping. Today’s
ultrasonic medical scanning of our arterial blood flow allows us to peer inside ourselves, so
to speak. We depend on x-ray vision to diagnose a fracture of our bones, and neurologists
look into our brains to pinpoint areas responsible for thoughts, feelings, and actions. Sound
and vision are two closely related sensory registers, yet we do not commonly think of sight
being audible, and sound being visible. We do not see with our ears, we use them to listen to
the wind as we go forth in the world, as the anthropologist Tim Ingold once suggested, noting
that wind and breath are intimately related in the continuous movement of inhalation and
exhalation that is fundamental to life and being.1


























































1
Cf. Tim Ingold, “Against Soundscape,” in Angus Carlyle (ed.), Autumn. Leaves: Sound and the Environment
in Artistic Practice (Paris: Double Entendre, 2007), pp. 10-13.


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Even though my immediate contact with Caroline Locke’s artistic creativity and collaborative
ventures was limited to a brief two-year period (2004-05), I propose to reflect here on her
major performance installation Hydrophonics (2005) and her on-going preoccupation with
water and sound, attempting to sketch a particular collaborative and interactive trajectory in
the various manifestations of her artistic project.

Water is a vital and powerful medium or conduit, less noticeable as an artistic material in the
long history of medium-specific practices – yet very fundamental in the make up of our
universe and our relationship with the natural environment and its physical properties, its
seasons and climes. Water is liquid, though it can have different physical states or phases: its
molecules transform and therefore it has the metamorphic qualities so many poets have
admired and written about. It is a surface of imaginary projections, and thus a metaphorical
screen. It has even been used as a real screen; I remember seeing the dance company DV8
perform The Happiest Day of My Life at a theatre in Southampton, using a filmic projection
onto water dripping down from the grid to the stage floor. A curtain of water.

Sound, on the other hand, has long been considered as the primary channel of auditory
musical reception in the non-visual world of the arts, music having been given prime of place
precisely because it cannot be seen but only heard. For composers outside the multi-media
traditions of opera or music theatre, there would be no distraction from the experience of
listening. Even the more recent sound art evolution of the 20th century, from the early
futurists and Russolo’s noise intoners to musique concrète and acousmatics, electro-acoustic
and computer music2, seemed often troubled by the sight of sound, and a good many
contemporary sound installations focus on multi-channel aural spatialization of music rather
than a more conceptual orientation towards the apparatus of the instruments or the sound
process (the generation). At the 2004 Nottdance Festival in Nottingham, Francisco López
showed an immersive sound work that he explicitly did not want to be seen: the listeners
were encouraged to close their eyes or wear blindfolds to concentrate on the sound
experience alone.


























































2
Composers and sound artists, from Russolo, Varèse, Schaeffer, Cage, Le Monte Young and many others to
more recent sound art experimenters like Christina Kubisch, Janet Cardiff, Francisco López, or Ryoji Ikeda, of
course display diverse and sometimes contradictory sensibilities towards visual (performance, installation)
dimensions of sound. A direct preoccupation with the tactile materiality of sonic media and sound frequency is
perhaps more characteristic of artists who have a visual or performance/body art background.



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In contrast, Locke’s performances and sound installations from the beginning of her
exhibition career tended to emphasize a more choreographic and sculptural sensibility,
anticipating the plastic as well as temporal-performative dimensions that have recently gained
rather more attention in some museums attuned to research into intermedia and transmedia
work.3 Locke arrived at her sculptures (the various site-specific pieces she created in the
early part of the new century) through live art and her exploration of presencing – both of
human performers and machine performances. In recent architectural theory I have come
across the notion of “machining architecture” (Lars Spuybroek), a term that corresponds well
to Locke’s choreographic ideas about ensembles which, in terms of their theatrical presences
or actions, incorporate material agency and the dynamics of material systems (the buckets,
containers, vessels, water-filled tanks and electro-mechanical devices). Similarly, since her
early performances (e.g. Breath), she sought to correlate physical energy and exertion, such
as her amplified breathing, to the temporal movement afforded by video/film projections or
images that accompanied her action based performances on monitor screens. The early
images reveal a tactile quality that was soon to be transferred more explicitly to the movement
of the material itself. Spuybroek’s practice and theory4 examine the relationships between
systems and materials methodologically, combining different procedures to allow a step-wise
infusion of information into a system to generate new form. As a design method it echoes
what during the 1990s – with the increasing emergence of new media/digital technologies –
was called “liquid architecture” or virtual/augmented space, except that Spuybroek did not
mean to celebrate the cyberspatial but to focus on concrete materials coming into action, so to
speak, becoming mobile themselves.

Locke’s Hydrophonics project, which occupied most of 2004 and 2005 and led to her
extended cooperation with artists in Australia during the latter half of 2005, is a massive
choreography that impressed me not only aesthetically and conceptually, but also with its


























































3

See, for example, the exhibition See this Sound: Versprechungen von Bild und Ton, at Lentos Kunstmuseum
Linz. The catalogue of the same titled was edited by Cosima Rainer, Stella Rollig, Dieter Daniels, Manuela
Ammer (Cologne: Verlag Walther König, 2009). In 2011, the Barbican Art Gallery, London, showed Laurie
Anderson, Trisha Brown, Gordon Matta-Clark: Pioneers of the Downtown Scene, New York 1970s, reminding
us of Brown’s amazing early “equipment pieces” and Anderson’s sound experiments, including the 1978
Handphone Table which involves two listeners sitting down putting their elbows on a table, covering their ears
with hands; they can hear the sounds coming through wood and bones of their own arms which, similarly to
wood, have a porous structure. The principle of the performance is based on the conduction of sound vibrations
through bones.
4

Lars
Spuybroek,
NOX:
Machining
Architecture
(London:
Thames
&
Hudson,
2004),


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meticulous organization and development. Locke took over various roles, including that of
the director and producer, and she felt at ease moving between her craft, the engineering
tasks, and the conceptual compositions, fusing the various building blocks of the work. Over
a period of many months, seven tanks of different sizes were built, and a wiring and speaker
system devised to be applied to the underside of the tanks. Sound was to be sent to the tanks
to animate a thin layer of watery surface through the various sound frequencies. Locke had
asked an ensemble of musicians to join her for the public performance to take place on
Monday 21st March, 2005, at the Malt Cross (Nottingham), a public bar featuring a beautiful
and unusual two-storey architecture that would allow audiences to look down from the
balcony onto the stage set below. During months of rehearsal, the tanks were tested and
“tuned,” and a configuration for the ensemble sketched, at which point I was also invited to
provide additional interface programming through camera (attached to tripods overlooking
the tank surface) and Isadora software.5 The instrumental musicians and a vocalist were
invited to develop, with Locke, a five-part musical “symphony” of sound, sent from their
instruments (guitar, double bass, saxophone, cello, trombone, percussion) and voice to the
tanks and their water surfaces.

The main feature of this multimedia assemblage is the array of tanks holding the water, and
during the hydrophonic concert attention is directed to the relationship between
performers/musicians – Gareth Bailey, Tom Bailey, Charlotte Bishop, Paul Deats, Rachel
Foster, Sam Hempton, John Thompson and Steve Truman – and the effect their musical
instruments have on the behavior of the water. Locke’s primary interest may have been the
“sight of sound,” rather than the sound itself, but I would argue that there are two key aspects
to the work, for the audience, and one surely has to be the musical performance of the band,
given the public setting and the expectations that audiences generally bring to a music
concert. At the same time, Locke was exhibiting her “orchestra,” namely the configuration of
kinetic sculptures6, or sculptures of vibration. One must consider the band’s performance and


























































5
Isadora is an interactive media presentation software originally developed by Mark Coniglio for dance
companies wanting to use camera or sensor input to manipulate digital media output and real-time interactivity
(graphic, sonic, MIDI data etc). 

6
Historically, it might be of considerable interest to link Locke’s hydrophonic sculptures with kinetic art of the
1960s, earlier abstract film-sculptures such as Lázló Moholy-Nagy’s Lichtspiel [Lightplay] (1930), which was
created by filming light reflected by a motorized sculpture made of glass, mirror, steel, and acrylic, and sound
art experiments like Alvin Lucier’s Music For Solo Performer (1965), in which the artist amplified his brain
waves to excite a number of percussion instruments by placing them on or next to loudspeakers. The cones of
the speakers, set into motion by Lucier’s brain waves, were the actual performers, while the composer remained
a silent and stationary presence. Lucier’s scientific interests, for example into atmospherics and the acoustic

 5


the musical material as an operational system “affecting” the dynamic properties of the water
inside the resonant tanks, each surface mobilized differently by the particular sound waves
that reach the bottom of the tanks and the speakers attached to the differently sized round tin.
The audience’s attention is thus drawn to the variations of the formations on the water
surfaces that each sound frequency makes. The formations are an effect of the vibrational
qualities of sound, lower frequencies causing the water to “act” in wider, more pulsating
bubbles and sparkling fountain-like agitations that generate a turbulent pattern, whereas
higher frequencies generate a different, faster turbulence and more prickly, oscillating field of
droplets that might appear like the agitated pounding of raindrops hitting the surface of a lake
during a thunderstorm. The turbulation of the water, and the propensity of its viscosity to ball
up into droplets or spheres, also generates sound, but the primary, magical effect of the
animating frequencies is the generation of complex patterns that are like fractal geometries
building up a seeming coherence that can suddenly turn into tumultuous chaos and equally
quickly reintegrate into a “standing” wave form that regularly expands and contracts in phase
with the oscillating wave pressure.





Rachel Foster in rehearsal for “Hydrophonics,” January 2005, Powerhouse Nottingham © J Birringer




























































potential of brainwaves, show a fascinating correspondence to Locke’s investigations into amplified breath and
cymatics.

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Sam Hempton in rehearsal for “Hydrophonics,” January 2005, Powerhouse Nottingham © J Birringer


As an ensemble, we rehearsed under Locke’s guidance and “charted” the music to recall
some of the pattern effects in the tanks, each musician and vocalist Rachel Foster exploring
the liquid manifestations in order to compose music based on the sight of the composition
rather than the sound. Interestingly, rehearsals took place at some point at Nottingham Trent
University’s Powerhouse, a now defunct theatre where I then worked as a research fellow in
digital and live performance art. We had set up a screen that allowed filmic projections of the
vibrational patterns of the water, captured by Locke’s camera peering into the tanks and
enabling close up images of the “sights” – images that could be manipulated (in coloration
and shape) or distorted as well in real-time and mixed with other filmic materials Locke
wanted to bring to the premiere performance. In the Malt Cross performance, we worked
with a double interface design, invisible-sound-to-visual-vibrations on the water surfaces, and
visual vibrations-to-camera/software-to-graphic-projections, the latter thrown up to a high
wall just above the audience gathered on the second tier of the pub. Locke used the
opportunity of the concert to let the camera travel, to capture not only close ups of the
turbulent watery surfaces, but also the bodily movements of the musicians at their
instruments and the facial expressions of audience members immersed in the experience of
this “visual” music gig.

 7




Camera interface and turbulence pattern in “Hydrophonics,” January 2005, Powerhouse Nottingham © J
Birringer

While Locke may have been drawn to the physical and metaphysical aspects of the
vibrational patterns, satisfying her long-standing curiosity in such watery phenomena that she
later expanded into the creation of her sound fountains, she clearly pursued more than the
creation of a kinetic sculpture. Already in 2004-05 she must have been attracted to the
generative and interactional potentials of such intermedia performance installations.
Furthermore, at this juncture in her life Locke had a subtext in mind that must have had a
deeply personal and narrative significance for her, even if she did not much comment upon
such matters. But she had given us a rough sketch, a kind of libretto, which outlined the
different affective qualities of the sound she was interested in, and which were then
structured and composed, mainly by trombonist/composer Gareth Bailey, into a sequence of
eight “tracks” comprising the main five movements that ordered the tonalities and dynamics
she wanted to dramatize visually. For Track 2 (2nd Movement), for example, she also brought
me a short dance film she wanted to project against/alongside the light and lighthearted,
radiating rhythms of the music. In the performance, I projected this short dance film through
the texture of the real-time captured continuous rotary motions of the water surface; the

 8


composite generated a perplexingly beautiful and implicated “water dance,” richly curved
patterns of liquids or liquid particles percolating through the female figure dancing in virtual
space. In Track 5 (3rd Movement Part 2), a very different mood is evoked, and I projected a
short film of flames and burnt charcoal (referring to a catastrophic moment in her life, when
Locke’s house into which she had moved some years prior, had caught fire and burnt down),
symbolic signifiers slowly subsumed and drowned by a vortex of viscous liquid. From this
reversal of fortune, the ensuing despair, bitterness and anger, the symphony of sound moves
forward to its final track which indicates a gradual release into a brighter and more optimistic
frame of mind, voice and instruments building intensity that was forcefully translated into the
shimmering movements of the pulsating water in the seven tanks – currents and eddies
forming “harmonic” shapes that one might imagine as the pattern or cycle of life itself.

Audience on the balcony, with video fresco above, at the premiere of “Hydrophonics,” March 21, 2005, Malt
Cross, Nottingham © J Birringer

Of course I cannot tell or recall what the audience might have imagined witnessing7, and


























































7
A television crew was present, however, and interviews with some audience members reveal that several
spectators felt affected emotionally on a level they found hard to express except through voicing a certain awe
or bewilderment. It is obvious that Locke has grown more persistent, through the development of her public
sound fountains, in wanting to involve audiences directly in the generative process of the experience of the work
and its unstable morphological manifestations. 


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these subtexts of the libretto were not known to anyone except the ensemble. But Locke
dared to bring an emotional narrative to an experiment in physics, and the musicians
interpreted the vibrational score as only musicians can, giving this Hydrophonics event a
unique acoustic energy. I will remember it as a live art event, with all its ephemeral splendor,
a few months later to be redirected into a more radically unstable networked performance
(Hydrophonics Online) between Melbourne, Australia, and Nottingham, data-waves sent
through the internet from one island to another, to arrive at some other end where they could
activate a kinetic-fluid assemblage, potentially witnessed by many viewers online. At the
Malt Cross, the performance of the tanks, with their animated water surfaces, drew the local
audience in; one can speculate that the psychological and perceptional affect largely resided
in the astonishing vibrational conditions (including the alternation of stillness and motion)
evoked through the patterns of water movement, touching upon a fundamental human
connectedness to flow/fluidity and the liveliness we recognize in the way in which the world
is permeated by rhythm.

There is also a scientific subtext that was not apparent to me at the time; in more recent years,
however, attention has been given to cymatics and the study of visible sound/vibration, and
research has been conducted in physics and medical science as well as in related health
sectors where hydrosonics and its experiential effects are used for healing purposes.8
Cymatics is the study of wave phenomena and the effect sound frequency and vibration have
on particles and mass; the term (Kymatik in German) was first adapted from the Greek word
for wave, ta κύµα, in the 1960s by Swiss medical doctor and natural scientist, Hans Jenny,
who developed a scientific methodology that demonstrates the vibratory nature of matter and
the transformational nature of sound. Not surprisingly, and similar to the aesthetic interest
aroused by fractal geometry, the visualizations of Jenny’s experiments, namely how audible
sound frequencies can animate inert powders, sand, pastes and liquids into life-like flowing
forms, have led to metaphysical interpretations about the hidden dynamics of nature.
Whereas materialistic science cannot fully explain why certain geometric forms, like the
spiral, hexagon and sphere, comprise the basis of so many of these nature-forms, and why
these same patterns tend to replicate in such diverse dimensions as single celled sea
creatures and cosmic dust clouds light years in diameter, growing evidence points to the
invisible workings of resonance. From an artistic point of view, and we only have to

























































8
Cf. Hans Jenny, Cymatics: A Study of Wave Phenomena and Vibration (Newmarket, N.H.: MACROmedia,
2001). See also: Suguru Goto, Cymatics (http://www.watermans.org.uk/media/27545/suguru%20gotov3.pdf).

 10


remember the tremendous emphasis that Antonin Artaud placed on sensorial experience and
vibrational resonances in his vision for a theatrical poetics of/in space and sound, it is of
course tempting to imagine that the material world is held together via “resonance,” a
mysterious property that determines how subatomic particles orient and bond with one
another, as well as the massive oscillations of gravitational fields in galactic interactions. On
a more human and societal scale, we often hear today of the need for a relational aesthetics or
architecture, and the kind of public art works that Caroline Locke has explored over the past
few years (Sound Fountains) makes me wonder whether her hydrophonic project has not
expanded in such a more communitarian as well as cosmological direction. Eastern
cosmologies and the science of homeopathy encourage us to trust interconnections and
interrelationships, to acknowledge a holistic organic basis for these normally invisible
workings of resonance. As we witness audible sounds exciting inert masses of sand and water
into dynamic forms that mimic living organisms, we can begin to visualize the hidden
mechanisms that animate our world.

While Jenny’s experiments, and those of subsequent researchers in Cymatics, are

conventional physics and solidly based in the observation of causal relationships of physical
phenomena, the magic of this scientific artistry comes in its interpretation. Cymatics shows
how vibrations interact to create the world we experience “out there,” in the dense
physical world of matter, form and function, while illuminating more intuitively how our
subjective perceptions, shaped by our emotional and cognitive experience, “see” conflicting
principles in action, such as the push of an imposed vibration against the pull of gravity, the
dynamic exchange between stasis and movement.

Locke’s Sound Fountains, developed since her first commission for a design of a permanent
public sculpture in Maastricht (The Netherlands) in 2006, reflect her own careful research
into new designs for water tanks and speaker systems and a new concern for the interactive
potential of such a symbolic structure – fountains traditionally having been given prideful
places in urban or village squares and parks where they feed the existential imaginary – now
largely forgotten in the industrialized West – of the population relying on water as a source of
life-giving sustenance. In our cities, fountains function as sublimated civilizational artefact, a
decorative transformation of the ancient well and the mythologies associated with water. In
parks the fountains can be enjoyed, in the warmer days of the summer, as source of
refreshment, children like to jump into them when they are accessible, wanderers and visitors

 11


rest at fountain statues of cherubs, mermaids, animals, gods and goddesses, tourists throw
coins into them. Fully aware of this powerful attraction, Locke places her Sound Fountains in
public sites, even though so far these sites appear relatively controlled (indoor) spaces, such
as School of Governance at Maastricht University, the new Faculty building for Arts and
Technology at The University of Derby, and now the Chapel at Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

Emplacing the work in an interactive context brings numerous challenges with it, regarding
the interactional design, the relational space and freedom of accessibility, and the
intelligibility of the system. While computational and networked interactivity are now a
common feature of our daily lives, Locke’s Sound Fountains are not domestic or public
technical objects; they attract attention because they are carefully crafted aesthetic sculptures
that enact their own organism. For Maastricht, she had two new fountains built out of
stainless steel, feeding them with musical sound and the sound of students’ voices activating
the water surface. At Derby, she collaborated with the Signal Processing Applications
Research Group (School of Technology), further experimenting with speakers, wave
generators and pitch shifters, and designing special units to house separate speaker canopies
underneath the steel tanks. From this collaboration emerged her interest in using sensor-
driven or microphone input into the wave generation, enabling visitors to affect the wave
generation and “build their own soundscapes,” as she calls it. This was tested successfully
during a performance installation at Nottingham Contemporary (November 2011); a much
expanded arrangement expects the visitors to the Chapel at Yorkshire Sculpture Park, where
several Sound Fountains are placed in the nave, with large projection screens on either side; a
red chair, a lectern with book and microphone, and a small silver suitcase complement the
ensemble. When the visitor enters the space, the turbulence system is already at work:
various generative sonic processes are activating the water surfaces, and visitors can add to
this symphony if they recognize the in-put “channels” available to them.

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Audience engaging Sound Fountains at the Chapel, Yorkshire Sculpture Garden 2012, © C. Locke

Having mentioned the paradox of “seeing sound” in the beginning, I now return to it with a
weary mind, sobered by several years of theatrical experimentation with interaction design.
While in contemporary digital culture, and lately in many museums, galleries, and
performance venues, the urge to design participatory applications is understandable, the
artistic values of interactivity – and of making the “user” a co-producer of the work or the
work’s generative process – are much harder to grasp and define. Intrinsically interactive and
generative process art depends on what theorists of the processual have called “technical
ensembles,” implying organisms that co-evolve with their environment. In such
environments, we create dynamic models to detect changes in behavior patterns and the
equilibrium within digital/electro-acoustic and physical space. Digital performance art has
run into limitations that concern both compositional practice (e.g. the dramaturgical
placement of interfaces for trained performers in a stage work) and the participatory promise
of interactive design for audiences (who haven’t trained with the interfaces or cannot
intuitively navigate the programmed parameters). In artificial intelligence research, engineers
are working hard towards toward instilling learning capabilities into their creatures:
intelligent technical organisms might learn from the behavior of the audience or the
processual systems (artificial life, multiagent populations) develop their dynamic

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(self)reconfigurations – their emergence.9

As I suggested earlier, new notions of relationality have been used increasingly often in the
visual arts contexts, where the immersion in installations accentuates sensorial experience or
provokes interactional play with the environment. Some performance companies have
adopted such participatory strategies to resituate their work within the public sphere, utilizing
public spaces and information networks or creating theatre and dance installations involving
the audience in imaginative ways. The question whether participatory design and emergence
are actually achievable or desirable in staged performances or installations was addressed by
the Pixelspaces symposium (“Re-Scripting the Stage”) at the 2011 ars electronica:

Interactivity and participation have been core elements of media art since its very
inception. In performances and installations produced in recent years, more or less
successful attempts have been made to put this immanent interactive element in the
hands of the audience attending the performance –for example, through the use of
various tracking technologies. In addition to the attendant problems associated with
people’s inability to grasp the connection between cause and effect, the process of
enabling audience members themselves to generate sounds or visuals often quickly
results in the exhaustion of the performance’s aesthetic, emotional or intellectual
quality. In the spirit of our contemporary Age of Participation in which social media
and a digital lifestyle set the tone, we will conduct a transdisciplinary discussion on
innovative participatory scenarios for the multimedial stage-audience context …in the
future (Pixelspaces program).

If it is euphemistic to speak of the “age of participation,” it is certainly pertinent to inquire

about the aesthetic, emotional or intellectual quality of performances that deploy technical
interfaces to generate new modes of experience. Locke’s installation of Sound Fountains at
Yorkshire Sculpture is modest yet provocative, in this respect, due to its choice of location:
the chapel. Although no longer in use as a place of religious service, the scenario of Locke’s
arrangement evokes a spiritual ambience, and the implicit invitation to the visitor is to delve
into a meditative as well as conductive space, a space of communal sharing. We might have
thought of the spiritual as a search or a journey toward a certain form of enlightenment or
equilibrium, and in Locke’s sonic environment the visitor can look for their sensual or sense-
making understanding of the ecology of the room, e.g. trigging different sound sequences via

























































9

Cf. the exhibition Process as Paradigm – art in development, flux and change, curated by Susanne Jaschko
and Lucas Evers, for LABoral Centro de Arte y Creacion Industrial in Gijon, Spain (23 April - 30 August,
2010). The exhibition catalogue can be found at http://www.laboralcentrodearte.org/en/714-catalogue




 14


motion sensors connected to the fountains, using the microphone to use their voice and send
word or song to the fountains, gaze at waveforms on the water’s surface, or enjoy watching
others and how they react to the environment. As a consequence, the room will always be
alive, and life goes on, patterns emerge and disappear, repeat themselves or become
modified. Someone might sit on the red chair and look into the ocean, becoming lost in a
dream. Someone else might behave in an eccentric fashion, daring to dip their hands in what
they imagine to be a baptismal fountain, while others try to remain unnoticed, fearing to
engage the dangerously protean qualities of turbulence. Proteus, after all, was a prophetic old
sea-god; they captured him to he would foretell the future, like oracles of old used to do. Now
we no longer believe in oracles. Yet if we could in fact see sound around us, we would see an
extraordinary kaleidoscopic-like social pattern and how our actions overlap, effecting each
other.

Johannes Birringer is a choreographer and artistic director of AlienNation Co

(www.aliennationcompany.com). He has directed numerous multimedia theatre, dance, and digital
performances in Europe, the Americas, Japan and China; collaborated on site-specific installations,
and exhibited work at film and video festivals. Author of Theatre, Theory, Postmodernism (1991),
Media and Performance (1998), Performance on the Edge (2000), Performance, Technology and
Science (2009). Founder of Interaktionslabor (http://interaktionslabor.de), and co-director of DAP-
Lab, Brunel University, where he is Professor of Performance Technologies.

 15