MUSE.TV
IN 9
9-second culture drops — on cue
Daily arts and culture signals—originals, standouts, and perspective.
Art, Music, Film, Life, and Performance.
Watch the latest →
Three Textures
Music · IN 9
A sound study drawn from what we’re hearing now.
Glossy, gritty, and weird-but-pretty—three textures shaping current music culture.
These are original audio studies, created as reference environments to translate the feel of what’s emerging.
You learn the shift by feeling it.
Listen
These aren’t soundtracks. They’re reference environments—short sound studies designed to make a texture instantly recognizable.
Glossy: clean, bright, compressed, high-sheen
Gritty: edge, saturation, aggressive transients, rawness
Weird-but-pretty: unexpected structure with pleasing tone
Audio study
Study 01 — Glossy
High-sheen polish. Clean edges. Controlled shine.
Study 02 — Gritty
Forward edge. Texture over finish. Raw pressure.
Study 03 — Weird-but-Pretty
Soft chaos. Off-center structure. Beautiful tension.
IN 9: Wing Chun - Dance Drama
Shenzhen Opera & Dance Theatre brings Wing Chun to North America, translating martial-arts systems into choreographic language. Precision combat becomes rhythm, repetition becomes design, and a legacy form meets contemporary staging.
Watch the official preview below.
IN 9: Nutcracker Peak Week
Mid-December is ballet’s biggest annual audience moment—packed houses, touring runs, school shows, and the Snow Scene everywhere at once.
The live event remains the core, but companies now extend the experience through clips, behind-the-scenes access, and broader distribution —expanding its reach beyond the theater.
Watch how the moment travels.
Interviews
Kindred creators in motion.
Cinematic multimedia conversations with artists, musicians, makers, and creative thinkers — their perspectives revealed through atmosphere, image, and quiet attention.
View Interviews →
ELLY CHO - Interview
Award-Winning Visual Artist & Filmmaker
Exploring the intersection of nature, environment, and human behavior across painting, film, and performance.
In this conversation:
How volcanic Jeju landscapes shaped her ecological imagination
Why pigment, salt, and breath feel like living archives
Where AI belongs — not as simulation, but as dialogue with nature
How memory and research co-compose her visual worlds
“The porous rock, shifting wind patterns, and seasonal changes — alongside the contrast between urban Seoul and Jeju’s elemental nature — left a strong imprint on how I understand memory.”
Watch / Read the Interview →
Land holds memory. The body listens.
“The porous rock, shifting wind patterns, and seasonal changes — alongside the stark contrast between urban Seoul and Jeju’s elemental nature — left a strong imprint on how I understand memory.”
1. What early landscape or memory first shaped your way of seeing — and how does it continue to shape your ecological approach today?
I grew up moving between Seoul and various natural landscapes, but I was especially affected by the raw materiality of Jeju Island’s volcanic terrain. The porous rock, shifting wind patterns, and seasonal changes — alongside the stark contrast between urban Seoul and Jeju’s elemental nature — left a strong imprint on how I understand memory. For me, memory is not something stored, but something held in the body and land, expressed through material, movement, and visual narrative.
That early experience taught me to listen through texture, silence, and repetition — a way of seeing that continues to guide how I approach ecological fieldwork today.
“What’s most alive for me now is the possibility of working across these worlds — human, nonhuman, and algorithmic — to explore how memory, sensation, and intelligence might be reimagined together.”
2. Your work spans desert systems, coastal environments, pigment processes, and AI-generated imagery. What draws these worlds together for you?
I’m drawn to materials that carry memory — pigment, salt, breath — elements that feel alive and responsive. These landscapes, whether desert or coastal, feel like thresholds: they echo the body’s own cycles of erosion, rhythm, and transformation. I often approach these places as sensorial collaborators — spaces that move and hold memory in ways that go beyond language.
My previous film Climate Hybrids explored speculative ecosystems shaped by water, migration, and adaptation. That project deepened my interest in ecological storytelling through movement, mythology, and evolving species. In Desert Futures, I continue this thread by shifting focus to the desert — not as barren, but as a site of reimagination, where ecological time, human gesture, and machine perception begin to entangle.
Rather than separating technology and nature, I’m interested in how they might reflect each other. AI in my work doesn’t aim to simulate nature, but to echo it — to listen, respond, and perhaps absorb its rhythms. These connections are still evolving. What’s most alive for me now is the possibility of working across these worlds — human, nonhuman, and algorithmic — to explore how memory, sensation, and intelligence might be reimagined together.
“The choreography was born from both emotional memory and environmental tension — particularly the internal contradictions of being between fantasy and reality.”
3. How do you experience the relationship between ecological research and personal memory when you’re creating?
For me, ecological research is not just external — it becomes deeply embodied and personal. When I begin a project, I don’t separate scientific exploration from lived experience. I enter the landscape through touch, movement, and observation. The way pigment shifts in salt air, or how breath echoes in a cavernous space — these sensory cues often unlock memory.
In my work, personal memory doesn’t stay in the background — it becomes material. A gesture from childhood, a visual from a recurring dream, or the shape of breath under water might resurface and form the seed of a scene. In my silent film sum(Island), I explored themes of isolation and self-discovery through movement, drawing from my experiences living on islands like Jeju, Manhattan, and London. The choreography was born from both emotional memory and environmental tension — particularly the internal contradictions of being between fantasy and reality.
This process continued in Climate Hybrids, where I used AI and choreography to reimagine evolutionary futures. Though rooted in scientific dialogue about adaptation and climate change, the film was shaped by my bodily memory and cultural imagination. The dancers’ movements embodied hybrid species, but also mirrored psychological states, ancestral echoes, and speculative longing.
So for me, ecological research and memory co-create one another. Memory brings intimacy to data, and research lends form to memory. Together, they shape how I build visual worlds — fragmented, rhythmic, and responsive to the emotional life of both land and body.
“It’s not about simulating nature, but creating dialogues between material intelligence and digital perception — a space where pigments and code both carry memory.”
The Studio Shop
Holiday Gift Curation
