Reading Tigoe’s blog post, “Physical Computing’s Greatest Hits (and Misses),” I feel both inspired and challenged by the themes he describes. Physical computing, as he explains, is filled with opportunities for creativity and reinvention. Some themes—like theremin-like instruments or LED displays—show up in physical computing classes over and over again, but Tigoe reminds us that even if something’s been done a hundred times before, there’s always room to put your own spin on it. This resonates with me, especially when I catch myself thinking, “Is this idea too overdone?” It’s encouraging to realize that originality can come from how we interpret and reimagine these classic projects.
Then there’s the question, How can I make my work intuitive and open-ended at the same time? It’s tricky to strike the balance between guiding users and letting them explore freely. For example, in my “soccer bot” project, I wanted the bot to recognize and interact with a soccer ball by “kicking” it. But the challenge wasn’t just in the technical aspects of recognizing the ball and calibrating the bot’s stability; it was about making the interaction feel intuitive and natural, like something anyone could understand right away. I realized that if the bot’s movements felt intentional and even a little lifelike, users could engage with it without needing instructions, adding an unexpected layer of playfulness to the project.
Another question Tigoe’s post brings up is, Can technology actually communicate emotions or sensations? This is something he addresses when he talks about projects like “remote hugs” and “meditation helpers.” I agree with him—replicating emotions or calm states is complex, maybe even impossible in some cases. But I wonder if there are ways technology could enhance or evoke those states instead of replicating them. Maybe it’s not about simulating emotion but creating something that encourages users to bring their own feelings into the experience. This could be a reminder that emotional connections in interactive art come from the users, not just from the tech or design itself.
Second Reading:
The idea that interactive art should leave room for the audience to interpret, experience, and even shape it is powerful—and surprisingly challenging. As artists, we’re often conditioned to pour ourselves into our work as a complete expression of what we want to say. But interactive art pushes us to let go of that control, to see ourselves less as “sole authors” and more as facilitators of an experience that isn’t ours alone.
One thing that really resonates with me is Tigoe’s assertion that our role, especially in interactive art, is not to dictate meaning or guide the viewer’s every move, but to create a space where people can explore. I think this goes against the grain of traditional art, where the artist’s interpretation and intent are often front and center. For me, that’s what’s exciting about interactive art: it’s unpredictable. You’re creating an experience without fully knowing where it will go, and you have to be okay with that ambiguity. There’s something freeing about stepping back and letting the audience complete the work in their way, with their own reactions, ideas, and personal connections.
In my own projects, I’ve noticed that the most memorable moments come not from following my own scripts but from watching how others interpret and transform what I’ve made. I remember one piece where I built a simple interactive environment with lights and motion sensors to respond to presence and movement. I’d imagined that people would move slowly through the space, savoring the changing light patterns. Instead, they ran, laughed, and turned it into an almost game-like experience. It wasn’t what I envisioned, but it was better in many ways—more alive, more spontaneous. This unpredictability is what Tigoe captures when he says to “listen” to the reactions and responses. Observing others engage with your work like this gives you insights you couldn’t have planned for, and it makes the artwork feel truly collaborative.