Inner Signals with Low-Tech Translation

Dividing into sub-groups under the theme of sensory exploration, our team became interested in the concept of synaesthesia – a phenomenon where stimulation of one sense involuntarily triggers another. For example, some may see fireworks when tasting certain foods or physically feel the texture of a painting just by looking at it. Inspired by this, we envisioned an experiment to translate one sensory input into another, essentially creating a kind of sensory translator that would transform a stimulus from one modality into another.

In our discussions about beauty in everyday life, we also began to focus on the internal senses of the body – such as breath or heartbeat. These are essential for life but often go unnoticed because they are so automatic. We asked ourselves: ‘What if these internal signals could be perceived more vividly? Would that allow us to feel our own existence more consciously?’ Guided by this idea, we began exploring low-tech methods to amplify internal bodily sensations and externalise them in tangible ways.

One of the key limitations of our project was the requirement to use low technology. To understand how minimal tools might be used to detect bodily changes, we looked into traditional medicine for inspiration.

Visual observation of complexion or body areas, auditory examination of chest or abdomen sounds, and tactile pulse reading – as in traditional Korean medicine – offered practical insights. Even taste and smell have historically been used, such as identifying bodily conditions through the scent or flavour of sweat or urine.

We began with a simple question: ‘Can one hear their own breath without digital technology?’ Drawing inspiration from the flexible ductwork seen on a building site, I designed a structure connecting the mouth and ear using paper cups. This DIY device – made of several interlinked cups – channels the user’s breath back to their own ear, allowing them to listen to it directly. Its shape resembled an elephant’s trunk, which became the nickname for the tool.

Participants used the device and then shared their emotional and sensory responses through interviews. Although many initially felt awkward, they gradually became more attuned to their breath. Some even began consciously controlling their breathing or using the device playfully. Imagery evoked included waves, seashells, and grey clouds – mostly drawn from nature. Most participants reported that the experience made them feel calm and grounded.

This test was not just about evaluating a tool; it became a moment to consider how inner experiences can be effectively collected and shared. Based on feedback, we supplemented interviews with body mapping, allowing participants to visualise their sensations and emotions. Initially, we asked them to distinguish inhale and exhale using separate colours. However, we later realised that such instructions could bias their responses, so we shifted to a freer format, letting participants express themselves however they wished.

Through this test, we learned how significantly method design and interview framing influence the outcome. For future design research or sensory-based projects, we will need to continually reflect on how to minimise researcher bias and encourage genuine, open responses from participants.