Felix Bodin

I clearly remember my first electric motor. I found it in a ditch, my grandpa helped me wire it to a battery, and we constructed a crude on/off switch out of wood and wire. I was five years old. The distinct buzzing, micro-vibrations and smell of tiny electric sparks brought this junkyard scruff more personality, character, vitality — life, than some people I met.

The experience of writing my first lines of code was similar. I almost fell off my chair when the algorithm executed. With ease, and in no time the computer had counted to 100. My entire body knew I just witnessed something world-changing. I remember calling mom into my room, showing her the revolutionary program. But seeing the numbers 1 to 100 printed in sequential order on my screen, she had trouble sharing my excitement.

The fascination of life springing from the non-living has been with me since my first memories. I’ve spent my master studies investigating this phenomenon. I call it Poetic Emergence.