Concrete, glass, steel: materials chosen for how they hold vibration, not silence it. The room becomes an instrument — a vessel where movement, breath, and tone intersect. Light spills across the speakers’ grid like sound made visible, revealing the system’s sculptural logic.
This isn’t performance in the traditional sense. It’s immersion — sound perceived in four dimensions, surrounding and passing through you. Each reflection, each beam, participates in the composition.
The photographs follow that rhythm. Figures dissolve into abstraction; the machinery of listening becomes a kind of architecture of consciousness. Warm light cuts across dark planes, hinting at the human presence within an otherwise elemental space.
Monom operates at this threshold — between science and ritual, precision and surrender. What the images hold is not spectacle, but attention: a record of the invisible, made briefly visible.
Sound as matter. Space as memory. Listening as art. A geometry of sound and shadow.