time.place

In the clock-drawing test, spatial, placement, and orientation errors are scored as indicators of cognitive decline.

In this piece, every minute, an AI model attempts to generate a working clock.

Keeping Time is a metronome-inspired lamp that pulses light at a user-controlled tempo. It redefines musical time as a visual experience of rhythm, presence, and attention.

This clock spins one loop of thread a day to create a growing, physical record of time. Starting at a milestone, the thread colour can be changed to mark different moments and memories in life.

This is a clock that shows how the artist "sees" time. With grapheme color synesthesia, every number has an innate color to him. The clock is matched to the current time down to the second.

NYC Street Clock is an online clock made from over 20,000 Google Street View captures around New York City, each reflecting the current time through numbers found across the city.

In a culture of ever-increasing productivity and hustle, resting for rest's sake has become unachievable for most. This work offers a moment of reflection on that rest, perhaps even recovering some of it. The work consists of a custom wall-hanging clock mounted slightly above eye level. When it is looked at directly, the clock slows down and eventually stops, inviting the viewer to spend some time without any obvious reward.

Credits: New Media Class UdK, Lukas Esser, Jonas Nechleba

A cooperative alarm clock that celebrates the threshold of waking as an energetic alignment between two people — a portal to the coming day that must be crossed together. There is no snooze.

Wear my lips on your wrist, hold them up to your ear, and have me whisper you the time.

Moon Tapestry is a handmade doubleweave menstrual calendar that holds 280 days of basal body temperatures. Intimate personal data is displayed in plain sight, encoded as a subtle thermally activated curve across moon phases.

A single-screen work where a camera captures visitors as dithered silhouettes, their movement shaping a living clock that drifts and lingers beyond their presence.

In everyday, everyday interactions with our devices become material for reflection, exploration, and play. Hourly prompts act as digital poems — brief, evocative invitations to play with our devices in new, physical ways. Playful, intimate, and sometimes absurd, the prompts slow the rhythm of digital engagement and transform participants' fleeting gestures into a collective canvas.

Digital work commissioned by Hyundai Artlab at Hyundai Motor Company.

I attempted time travel on a train in South India. I placed a video camera at the front of a train car, facing out the door. Live video was sent from the camera to the laptop, which sat in front of a second door at the back of the train car. When viewing the laptop I was able to see approximately 1/10th of a second into the "future".

Suspended in air, this multimedia kaleidoscope reflects the mind of my grandfather living with Alzheimer’s disease. Infinite reflections mirror the fragmented, nonlinear nature of memory and time. Inspired by my visits with him over the past four years, the piece explores the delicate space between confusion and love, and the question of whether to correct his reality or step into his time and place. It invites viewers to reflect on memory, time, and the fragile threads that connect us.

A disc rotates once per hour. Interference patterns on its surface and a stationary layer above it create the appearance of faster motion, producing rings that seem to revolve at different speeds. No part of the object moves at those speeds. The motion is generated by the difference between two patterns. The work does not tell time precisely, but makes visible a more elastic experience of time: fast and slow, shifting and unstable, all at once.

A clock's circular composition is flattened into a linear surface, revealing the spatial assumptions that construct our perception of time. It distorts the circular logic of an ordinary clock.

This sound sculpture is an instrument played by the clock that runs the Bay: BART! It emits sound and light to indicate when a train has entered the Transbay Tube.
To learn more, visit: art.snailbunny.site/bart

This sculpture reimagines the heart as a biological clock. By pairing heartbeats with mechanics, this serves as a memento mori — a reminder that our internal rhythm, not gears, measures time.

The 24 Solar Terms (二十四节气) are an ancient Chinese calendar system that divides the year into 24 segments based on the sun's position. For thousands of years, farmers have used it to determine when to plant, harvest, and anticipate seasonal changes. In this digital clock, the cycle of the 24 solar terms unfolds alongside the familiar ticking seconds, asking how we experience time when measured not only by numbers, but by the rhythms of nature.

The minute hand on clocks seems to have emerged around the same time as coffee entered the workforce. Caffeine made a finer division of work possible, no longer bound strictly to sunlight and punctuated by brief coffee breaks. The new drug of productivity might have created minutes as a new time technology.

This wall clock, with its precisely machined aluminum body, marks time only outside of 9-to-5. The minute has been cancelled. The wood is stained with the coffee grounds of an Americano.

THE INFINITE ALMANAC is a hybrid visual poem inspired by traditional Chinese lunisolar calendars. Written in a style loosely based on the renga (a Japanese poetry form), each line corresponds to a day of the year and reflects the shifting seasons, natural phenomena, and cultural events associated with that day. The poem is a meditation on existence, moving between queerness, becoming, and loss, in relation to the ever-present changing of nature and the speaker’s own notion of self.

The three 'hands' of this clock are translucent sheets inscribed with eccentric ovals. As they spin, Moiré patterns appear, presenting a map of time that is not traditionally legible, but understood through (periodic) relationships. Moiré patterns are formed from diffractive beats, observed in the double slit experiment — an experiment that indicates that nothing can be known except through relationship, and that one's conception of self and time mutually create the conditions for one another.

A digital watch bridging the art of 1930s California dials with the ingenuity of highly integrated circuit design. Mixing Roman and Arabic numerals, its 7-segment display sits beneath a transparent print of a Pompeian skeleton mosaic that serves as a memento mori. The resin case is finished with a hand-crafted titanium caseback.

Alarm clocks have mutated into oppressive bargaining rituals to negotiate the start of each day. I’m interested in how these interfaces capture an individual’s likeness through behavior, sleep cycles, and states of mind.

Yin and yang. Six lines. Two trigrams. Two hexagrams.

I-Ching — three millennia of Chinese wisdom about change — traditionally cast by throwing coins; each hexagram emerges from the moment of chance to reveal meanings.

But what if time itself is already casting the hexagram?

Using the precise current time as the seed to generate a unique hexagram, you experience a contemporary form of the ancient ritual: asking a question, witnessing a hexagram emerge, and interpreting the message encoded within.

This timepiece materializes the infinite scroll, and explores the commodification of time in the attention economy. By printing the physical distance you traverse while scrolling through endless feeds, your screen time is made tangible. The receipt accurately captures what content you watched, how much time you spent and what that says about you. This piece invites you to examine your relationship with technology. So take a seat, watch some reels and collect your receipt when you’re done.