During the input days, Marta Reyes from the Eawag team mentioned that they prefer to observe plankton in its natural environment.
I therefore modified my kaleidoscope for a field trip and brought it to a nearby lake, a popular spot close to the city. I was curious not only about the visuals created by the lake and its inhabitants, but also about how people would respond to it.
I was surprised by the curiosity it sparked — many people approached me, wanting to look through it and ask questions. The tool became a way to engage people in conversations about the lake, its environments and fragile ecosystems.
I have not yet found a name for this instrument, which serves no practical purpose other than to invite us to connect — visually and emotionally — with water, its shapes and vivid colors.
The project could further evolve in a participatory direction, by inviting others to build their own aquatic kaleidoscopes, or by transforming swimming goggles into tools for playful and collective underwater observation.
Throughout the week, I was deeply fascinated by the instruments used by the Eawag research team. Some were surprisingly simple, almost DIY in their construction, while others were highly sophisticated — such as microscopes and various laboratory devices.
Interacting with these tools often led to moments of discovery — those a-ha or wow moments that reveal the hidden beauty of scientific observation. I wanted to recreate that sense of wonder by imagining an instrument of my own, one that would belong more to the artistic realm.
This reflection led me to the idea of a liquid kaleidoscope. The parallel between the kaleidoscope and the microscope felt particularly meaningful: both invite us to look closely, to engage visually through lenses and mirrors, and both evoke a similar sense of enchantment — a magical, almost hallucinatory experience of color and pattern. I decided to build a kaleidoscope and bring it into the laboratory, using it to observe plankton samples.
