Table Talk

Creative Process & Technical Shift

At the beginning of the project, I used TouchDesigner as the main interactive control platform.With its ability to process video, receive sensor data, and synchronize audio and visuals in real time, it seemed—at least in theory—perfectly suited for the demands of an interactive installation. I had envisioned the system functioning like a network: different sensors (weight, pressure, volume) would instantly alter projections and sounds, creating a responsive and richly layered environment. But as the project progressed, I began to realize that while TouchDesigner is powerful, it was ultimately too much for Table Talk. It introduced many unnecessary technical burdens, was cumbersome to debug, and added visual complexity I Didn’t need. More realistically, my experience with TouchDesigner was limited, and I lacked the technical skills to execute a highly complex interactive system.

So, I decided to not utilize TouchDesigner and instead build a lightweight system using an ESP32 microcontroller and a web-based interface (HTML + JavaScript). This setup allowed me to precisely control timing and video playback logic, receive sensor data via WebSocket, and maintain a level of flexibility and sustainability that better aligned with the spirit of the work. Table Talk is, after all, a project about domestic power—it doesn’t need a media server more complicated than a home computer. In the end, this shift brought me back to what I truly cared about: rhythm, response, the body’s smallest resistance, and the kind of interaction where small gestures carry heavy meaning.

Through the process, I received feedback from many classmates and instructors. These conversations helped me become more committed to the current version of the project. When I realized that some of my ideas were confusing to others, I didn’t retreat. Instead, I dug deeper into the ambiguities—researching more, reorganizing my thoughts, and rewiring the parts that hadn’t yet been clearly articulated. Once I could firstly take a vague feeling and,  I try to turn it into a clear structure and language through study, reading, and iteration. Those very ideas that once seemed confusing became the most honest and unique parts of my work. Of course, there were many moments throughout the process when I questioned myself: Am I really that bad at expressing things? Do I always overthink and over explain? But in the end—this project got finished. It’s not perfect. But it’s mine.

Idea

Unease seeps into the air around me like a scent, gently stinging me with every unconscious breath. Sometimes I try to hold my breath and pretend I’m living in a vacuum, but reality always comes in like a tidal wave when I’m unprepared. I try to trace the source of my emotions, only to realize that this uneasiness pervades even the most familiar places. It is hidden in every breath, between every pot and pan. The kitchen, seemingly the centerpiece of family warmth, always gives me a sinking feeling of oppression—the weight of structure.

Looking back at the progress of Table Talk, I realize it is more than a critique or visualization of patriarchal structures. It is a space I created—one that invites participants to see and hear the power dynamics embedded in settings so familiar, we often stop noticing them. Discipline is effective precisely because it is soft, everyday, and wrapped in the language of care and responsibility. Whether it’s in the home, the kitchen, or on an online platform, it arrives with the tone of “I’m doing this for your own good.” And women—especially those in caregiving roles—have been trained to perform this logic so well that they often become not the ones breaking it, but the ones upholding it. They transmit norms. They transmit fear.

To “be someone no one would want to leave” is not advice about love—it is a form of discipline. It teaches you to be soft, harmless, predictable. Safe enough not to pose a threat. Safe enough that others know you won’t resist. And so, you’re allowed to stay—but that staying comes at the cost of putting yourself away. But resistance exists too. It is not always a shout, a clash, or a break. Sometimes it is the body’s refusal to eat, a bite not swallowed, a hand reaching out to hit the pause button, or a moment when a bystander interrupts the rhythm of the system. These small but real actions are the moments I hoped to capture in this work.

For me, Table Talk is an exercise in rearranging the weight of the unspoken—translating it into movement, sound, and space. It doesn’t offer answers, but it opens up a space for possible conversations: about how women are seen, heard, and evaluated; about how language becomes discipline; and about whether we can still, in our own ways, speak again.