DOWNLOAD Gambados Podcast: Waiwai

DOWNLOAD Franny by Waiwai 

waiwai ChanWAIWAI (HIUWAI CHAN)‘s GPS coordinates are never certain. Scrambling signals with higher than high-tech making and hacking perched in the branches of a secret treehouse, she makes your average digital nomad look like IKEA furniture, self-righteous off-the-gridder like a stale waffle, and Kickstarting Silicon Valley eco-technocrat like, well, a Kickstarting Silicon Valley eco-technocrat. A few years ago, she took her art school degree and ran, literally, into the woods. Earlier this year, she told me she was having dreams of running across the plains of Mongolia. Some five months later she emails from the Mongolia 360° Land Art Biennial that she’s “been living outside with no internet for a week.” So no, she isn’t outside The System. Because, come on already, that’s not the point. Because, the post-technodigitalindustrial apocalypse has already happened and the dystopic stuff of science fiction is here and now and, people, there is no The System. It’s just that most of us have yet to admit it and catch up if we can breathless to Waiwai who lives and thinks and questions and makes and thinks and questions as she lives as she questions as she thinks as she makes. Waiwai. Hiuwai. Amorphous half of Shetian Fan. When you do finally get it, she’ll be there which is really here with a “meow” (seriously, this is her catchphrase) and her Cheshire Cat smile. Because, she likes you Alice.

Waiwai is a formally trained artist, self-taught coder and occult researcher. Interested in deprogramming the programmed, her work is usually found during the process of investigating and hacking codes of norms and beliefs, from relationship between Self, Society, and the greater presence, which most likely presents itself in the form of, Technology, Magic or Nature. The work dances with a great range of vehicles such as HTML and drawing, social reformation and performance. You can find more about Waiwai at www.irational.org/waiwai.Waiwai Chan


“‘Alone, Franny lay quite still, looking at the ceiling. Her lips began to move, forming soundless words, and they continued to move.’ The instruments were wood-chopping, bird songs, fire-blowing, spring water, kalimba and vocal.”

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