nuestra (identidad)

The dominant frameworks of professional development are still largely industrial.

They assume that progress is linear.
That growth is continuous.
That forward motion is the default state.

But reality feels different.

For many young professionals and early-stage entrepreneurs working in creative and knowledge economies, this story no longer quite fits. Something doesn’t align.

What we see instead is more subtle.

More human.

A pattern that moves forward—and then pauses.
Advances—and then retreats.

Not as failure, but as part of the process.

Arthur Koestler, in The Act of Creation, describes this through the French phrase reculer pour mieux sauter—to step back in order to leap further.

Ideas don’t evolve in straight lines. They move through phases. There are moments where structure loosens, where certainty fades, where things stop making sense for a while. And in that space—something new becomes possible.

It’s a quiet kind of transformation.

Over time, I’ve encountered a series of sound-based experiences that have shaped my interest in listening as a designed practice.

In Berlin, I visited MONOM at 4DSOUND, a space with almost no visual distraction — just brutalist architecture and minimal lighting. The sound system and the DJ became the main focus, creating an immersive spatial experience where listening felt physical.

I also explored Cosmos Studio, where experimental music is combined with breathwork, stretching, and automatic journaling. Here, listening was guided supported by the body and reflection.

In London, I attended Embodied Sonics by Laima Leyton at 180 Studios — a deep listening session inspired by Suzanne Ciani’s A Sonic Womb. The experience brought together experimental sound, spoken word, and collective listening, creating a shared space for attention and presence.

More recently, I came across the work of Daniele Carcassi, particularly his Totem of Loudspeakers — sculptural, multi-channel sound systems that merge spatial audio with a strong physical presence.

These experiences make me wonder:

Are these emerging formats of listening a response to something larger?

At a time shaped by algorithms, acceleration, and constant stimulation, where music is often consumed passively and endlessly, these spaces seem to propose something different: curated, guided, intentional, and researched.

Perhaps they are not just artistic expressions, but contemporary responses to a growing need:
to break away from automated consumption, and to reclaim listening as an active, conscious practice.

A friend of mine went to a protest. Before leaving her house, she decided to wear a face mask. Not because she was sick, but because she didn’t want to be identified. She is a student, and the idea of being recorded made her uncomfortable. That moment stayed with me. It made me realise that behaviour can change even when nothing is happening directly — just the possibility of being watched is enough.

From there, I began to pay more attention to how surveillance exists in everyday life. In the United Kingdom, cameras are part of the environment. There is roughly one CCTV camera for every 13 people. They are in streets, transport systems, shops, and buildings. You don’t always notice them, but you know they are there.

As an international student in London, this became more present to me. Being in a new country means you are not always sure how things work — what is acceptable, what might have consequences. Because of that, behaviour becomes something you think about more carefully.

At the beginning, I was trying to understand how surveillance affects behaviour. But that felt too limited. It focused too much on control. What became more interesting was how people continue to act, participate, and exist in public space even with that awareness.

This is where the project started to shift.

Suspicion by Design shows that this is no longer only about cameras. Systems and algorithms now analyse data and flag behaviour before anything happens. Suspicion is built into how these systems work.

Through reading and observing, I started to focus less on surveillance itself, and more on how people deal with it.

People make small decisions all the time.

They change how they dress.
They stay quiet.
They choose where to stand.
They decide when to be visible and when not to be.

This led me to my research question:

How can people remain confident in their behaviour in public spaces where surveillance is present?

Going forward, I want to explore this through observation and small experiments. I am interested in how clothing, movement, and being part of a group can affect how people feel and act.

The aim is not to remove surveillance. It is to understand how people live with it, and how they continue to show up in public space.

Bibliography

• Big Brother Watch. Suspicion by Design. 2024.
• Politics.co.uk. CCTV Statistics in the UK. 2020.
• Migration Observatory, University of Oxford. Student Migration to the UK.