Customized Biorhythm

2021

Dimension: 30'' x 77.6'' x 21.7''
Medium: aluminum, stainless steel, resin, light beads, light strips, motors, electronics, basil

"The way a society deals with its plants tells us a lot about itself." — Lois Weinberger
Customized Biorhythm envisions a world where, in the face of severe environmental crises, humanity intervenes to reshape the survival patterns of plants and animals. In this scenario, ecosystems across many regions of the Earth have fallen into serious disarray: plants struggle to grow, animal migrations are disrupted, and energy fails to flow smoothly through the food chain. Some key species within the ecosystem have disappeared, leaving ‘voids’ that new species are unable to fill.

To stabilize the foundation of the food chain and maintain the structural complexity of ecosystems, a strong call to ‘save the plants’ arose, ushering in a new era of ecosystems known as Generinature. In this new system, plants are classified into eight tiers based on the level of human intervention they receive. Plants subjected to less intervention, respected for their inherent right to life and self-regeneration, have become increasingly rare and valuable. The National Bioscience Center has employed genetic editing technologies, such as CRISPR-Cas9, to precisely modify the genomes of plants, enhancing their resilience to harsh conditions, accelerating their growth, and improving their recovery abilities.

The installation is based on an early research prototype salvaged from a waste processing facility. It taps into plants’ genetic responses to daily environmental shifts and key metabolic pathways in their life cycles, introducing lunar cycles and day-night variations to regulate basil. Over time, this light-conditioned basil aligns its internal biological clock with external environmental rhythms, completing its entire growth cycle within a 27.32-day lunar period.

Red and blue spotlights simulate the moon’s luminous surface, with their positions and sequence designed to mimic the phases of the moon. Viewed from above, this arrangement resembles the moon’s current real-time status. Adjacent equipment includes a windmill-shaped “time wheel” that starts at 6 a.m., lighting up a strip of lights every hour until 5 p.m. when all are lit. From 6 p.m., the entire system shuts down until 6 a.m. the next day. Additionally, a U-shaped tube containing 600 ml of nutrient solution, sealed at both ends with nanoporous plastic to allow light penetration while enabling air exchange.

Seeds are wrapped in rockwool and placed within a transparent sleeve to ensure continuous nutrient supply and prevent issues related to continuous cropping. As the rockwool absorbs the nutrient solution, the solution level gradually decreases, and the hydroponic system’s nutrient solution does not need replacement within a growth cycle. When someone walks by, the equipment emits a rustling rain sound, with vibrations induced by human activity transmitted through plant cells.

In this radical era of adaptive management, researchers are utilizing light to reset the biorhythms of plants, effectively entraining them to adopt new growth patterns. These plants no longer adhere to the inherent natural day-night cycles but instead grow rapidly according to pre-established schedules. Such human intervention selectively eliminates species unable to synchronize with these new rhythms, leaving behind only the successfully entrained varieties. In this new phase of ‘survival of the fittest,’ technology, as an extension and augmentation of natural evolution, systematically generates intelligent new species capable of confronting future environmental challenges, thereby reconstructing the network of ecological dependencies.

Throughout this process, plants develop their own antibodies, and their intrinsic mystery and unpredictability lead to technological failures and loss of control. This dynamic creates a mutual infringement between technology, nature, and living organisms, reinforcing and co-constructing a redefined reality.

“Reflecting on my work, I drew a parallel between the plight of plants in this era and the human experience during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the height of the pandemic, the surge in patients overwhelmed hospitals and healthcare systems, pushing resources far beyond their limits. This meant that each patient received only limited medical attention.

Those with more complex conditions or who were requiring special care were often left without adequate diagnosis or timely treatment. In such a critical situation, it became nearly impossible to calmly listen to the individual experiences of each patient, as society’s focus shifted entirely to curbing the alarming crisis. The entire social system functioned with the goal of minimizing the collective loss.

Similarly, when faced with extreme environmental crises, the magnitude of disasters can eclipse the rationality of policymakers. The priority becomes restoring the overall ecological system, and in the process, the agency of individual plants as autonomous life forms and their capacity for self-realization within ecosystems are sacrificed.

Human responsibility toward nature, the recognition of the intrinsic value of non-human life, and respect for plant rights are ideological stances. However, the complexity of human behavior lies in the fact that actions often fail to align with these ideals.

When confronted with the ethical dilemmas posed by biotechnological interventions in nature, and our own existential struggles for survival, perhaps humanity may never be capable of devising a perfect plan. Only in those critical moments—when we, as human beings, are forced to make decisive choices—will we truly come to understand, “Who am I?”

By assigning tiers, plants are commodified like NFTs, with artificial scarcity being manufactured. For example, the fast-growing Pinus massoniana, used to restore damaged and degraded lands, is engineered into foot soldiers of the ecosystem, while the less cost-effective Sophora japonica, incapable of supporting the ecosystem, is elevated to the status of a high-class lady.

Plants are placed within a market-driven and transactional context, where they are selected and judged based on their perceived rarity. Ironically, this “rarity” is constructed around their so-called “natural state,” a state that emerges from minimal human interference. Their power is defined through intervention and negation, yet it is tied to humanity’s ethical and moral awareness of nature.

In the post-pandemic era, human health and survival are increasingly subject to the frameworks of technological systems and scientific interventions. Vaccination became the primary tool for humanity to combat the virus. Yet, those who remained unvaccinated began to possess a sense of “unmodified/untouched” rarity and purity. In particular, among some anti-vaccine groups, this moral and natural aura is amplified, as if their bodies had not been altered by technology, retaining a certain “pristine” state.

This constructed narrative of purity highlights how symbolic reverence was attributed to unvaccinated bodies through human design and control, transforming them into a vehicle for power and value. This elevation of certain bodies over others exacerbates inequalities—not only between humans and the natural world but also between different groups of people. In such a world, rarity becomes a marker of worth. But should we not question whether something must be rare to be deserving of respect and attention? Or does this fixation on scarcity distort our understanding of value altogether?”

— Remarks by Gumi Lu, as featured during the “Cave of the Day, Cave of the Night” trio exhibition