The public art meditates on invisible traces—of distance, movement and borders—in the spaces of encounter with the other. Engaging with cosmic ray muons, the collaborative project crosses the disciplines of particle physics, photography, new media, poetry and sound arts.
Cosmic Strangers draws from a 2000-year-old cosmic-crossing myth: a wanderer searching for the source of the Yellow River crossed to the Milky Way and encountered the celestial lovers Cowherd and Weaver. Confused, he asked, “Where am I?”. “Bring back this stone when you return home, and it will tell you,” came the reply.
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Featuring the muography inspired art and design of Boedi Widjaja, “Cosmic Strangers” is a unique exhibit within a busy Singapore subway station, Orchard MRT Station (TEL) Exit 10, which includes: a sculpture that senses the presence of muons, a 19 meter photographic collage within a tunnel of the station, photography, an AI-hacked Tang dynasty poem, as well as augmented reality and a soundtrack corresponding with sonified electromagnetic waves from outer space. Taking place from the 14th of January to the 16th of February, 2025, this exhibit is presented as a part of Singapore Art Week and also supported by the National Arts Council and the Land Transport Authority and SMRT Trains of Singapore.An interview with Boedi Widjaja discussing “Cosmic Strangers” and its muography themes follows.
As an artist, it must be exciting to see how people interpret your artworks. Perhaps sometimes they will recognize or make connections that you as the creator did not anticipate. What have been some of the most surprising comments or reactions to your work that you have seen from the “Cosmic Strangers” exhibit?
When we installed the work in the underground walkway at Orchard Station, I had modest expectations. It’s a space dominated by the rhythm of daily commutes—people rushing past, eyes on their phones, often disconnected from their surroundings. I wondered if the work would even register in the midst of such a fast-paced, utilitarian space. Hence, it was a delightful surprise when strangers tagged me on Instagram, sharing that they passed through the tunnel daily and had appreciated the pop up public art. Interestingly, a number of them who reached out would share that they worked or had studied in scientific fields, and had connected with a project that intersects art and science. Another unexpected layer of engagement came from how the audience noticed and embraced the interplay between the installation and its environment. The site was far from a pristine white cube—it was a living, functional space filled with unmovable elements like CCTVs, light fixtures, EXIT and fire safety signs. Rather than seeing these as obstacles, the audience picked up on how these elements echoed and amplified the themes of the project. For example, the poem on the wanderer’s visit to the Milky Way was placed beside a circular light fitting, and an audience had thought that the latter was part of my installation. Another felt that the EXIT sign directly above the metal sculpture that senses the presence of muon visitors added an almost poetic tension to the installation.
The fourth dimension seems to be a strong theme of “Cosmic Strangers, Cardinal Nodes’. Among the influences you have mentioned for your new works are ‘The Fourth Dimension” and “A New Era of Thought” by Charles Howard Hinton and “Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions” by Edwin Abbott Abbott. Also, you adapted the “four digit per character” structure of Chinese Telegraph code to encode the 28-character poem 浪淘沙 (‘Waves Swirling Sand’) which was translated into sound (Morse code). What are some of the other ways that this piece incorporates the themes of our everyday experience of three-dimensional space with the fourth dimension of time and what prompted you to explore this theme?
There are two kinds of four dimensions I am exploring in this work—spacetime and geometry. Both converge to form an inquiry into connection, and transformation. Spacetime anchors us in the tension between what has been and what is yet to come—a realm where memory, agency, and possibility intertwine. The expressions in “Cosmic Strangers”—photographs, morse code signals—live in the aftermath of muonic events, tracing the remnants of muons that existed in the past, their fleeting passages leaving concrete imprints. These traces are not simply means for mnemonic recall but tangible evidence of moments that once unfolded, charged with meaning and motion.
Zhang Qian’s story becomes a metaphor for this search: a journey backward to the source of the river, to the beginning of all things, driven by the desire to better understand the past and, through that understanding, to map the possibilities of the future. His question—“Where am I?”—is not merely spatial but temporal, as though standing at the threshold of history and prophecy. Spacetime here is a landscape of transformation: living with the weight of what came before while carving out paths toward what could be, balancing memory with agency, the known with the yet-to-be-known. Geometry, on the other hand, speaks to the dimensions of existence—the gulf between what is visible and what remains hidden, between three-dimensional and four-dimensional beings. It reflects the profound divide between human and muon, a material and metaphysical difference that echoes in other gulfs: between cultures, beliefs, people, and even the inner worlds of individuals. A 3D being can never fully perceive a 4D reality—only fragments, shadows, projections. Likewise, the muon’s life, almost too brief to measure, exists in a dimension outside ordinary perception, revealing how different forms of subjectivities can overlap yet remain alien to each other. This gulf becomes a metaphor for the barriers between individual experiences, where though understanding is fleeting and partial, connection remains possible through sharing space and time. By bringing these dimensions together, the work reflects on how we navigate these gaps—between past and future, self and other, earthly and cosmic—and how those divides might collapse into new forms of continuity and belonging.
Hiroyuki Tanaka described his impression of Boedi Widjaja’s interpretation of dimensions in the following way: “Cosmic muons are relativistic and thus, not only 3-dimensional space but also time is dynamically modified. This 4-dimensional dynamics makes muons strongly Lorentz boosted, and makes them penetrate through various objects straight forwardly regardless of the matter they traverse. I imagine that you tried to express this 4-dimensional dynamical nature with your hypercube. There are various artists who have been influenced by the relativistic theory, but these are usually expressed on a 2-d canvas. Please let me summarize my interpretation below: (A) The hypercube is static: It is not traveling, but floating at the same position. (B) However, this hypercube itself is pulsating, indicating 4-dimensional dynamics. (C) In our world, 3-dimensional dynamics is perceived as time passes. In other words, this is the reason why we can recognize “time.” However, the time axis is degenerated into the 3-dimensional presentation of the 4-dimensional concept. This means that the presentation of 3-dimensional dynamics within the framework of the 4-dimensional concept could be intrinsic. I see your artwork as representing how time can be degenerated into a 3-dimensional presentation of this 4-dimensional concept."
Boedi Widjaja’s response to this statement was “through the hypercube, I am exploring the idea of language as form, drawing an analogy to Zhang Qian’s stone, which served both as a physical object and a vessel of language—a symbolic messenger, bearing meaning across realms. While this idea hasn’t yet fully materialized in the work, it continues to unfold conceptually. I am particularly intrigued by the potential to treat the 4-digit coordinates of each Chinese character in the Tang poem as spatial markers, turning language into a kind of cartography—a mapping of meaning across dimensions. This approach invites me to think about language not as a purely abstract system but as something spatial, time-based, and material—a phenomenology of meaning. Each character becomes a point in four-dimensional space, a coordinate that situates meaning within both time and form. Time becomes space, and space becomes form, blurring the boundaries between writing, movement, and materiality. Such a perspective opens up the possibility for language to exist as sculpture—a sculpture of meaning—even if it is a virtual one. A text can be imagined as a structure or an architectural form, not unlike a rotating hypercube, experienced through time as a journey, a process of unfolding rather than a static entity. In this expanded dimensionality, the hypercube becomes a metaphor for language as a living structure: both elusive and tangible, fleeting yet anchored, a space where meaning is constructed, dissolved, and reconstructed across time and space.”
This exhibit seems to invite people walking in the space to not only observe, but also interact with the artwork itself. Have you noticed any differences in the way people relate to art, with AR pieces like “Cosmic Strangers, Cardinal Nodes”, when it is interactive (as opposed to a static painting or photo on a wall)?
While this wasn’t the primary focus of the work, many of my projects explore the layered ways we see and experience the world, often incorporating smartphones as a tool for interaction. The devices have become almost like bodily extensions——portals through which we navigate and interpret our surroundings. There’s a certain familiarity in experiencing the world through a screen, and I’ve noticed that this comfort often carries over to how people engage with AR pieces like “Cosmic Strangers, Cardinal Nodes”. For some, viewing art through their device’s lens feels more intuitive and accessible than interacting with a static painting or photograph on a wall. The screen acts as a bridge, making the unfamiliar feel more approachable. In this project, I incorporated AR in two ways: within the artwork itself and through the exhibition invitation card, which featured a link to an AR experience of a hypercube floating above the viewer’s palm. While AR interactivity is not new—thanks in part to the global phenomenon of “Pokémon Go”—I was struck by how the technology, by merging the imaginary with the real, evoked an almost childlike sense of wonder in the audience. It was interesting to see how through certain interactive elements, the experience of discovery, surprise and delight could transcend generational boundaries.
Being part of Singapore Art Week, many art lovers have been introduced to this exhibit; however, since it is also located in a subway station – it will also attract people who might not otherwise visit art galleries or museums. Besides an increased audience, what are other advantages of presenting artworks in nontraditional settings like the Orchard MRT Station? What are the biggest challenges that this particular space presented? Is this space located underground?
The decision to install the work in an underground train station was intentional, as it resonated deeply with the project’s themes of transit, connection, and the cosmic. Conceptually, the idea of placing an artwork that explores cosmic phenomena—such as muon particles, which penetrate even the deepest underground spaces—in an underground station feels poetic and fitting. It created a striking juxtaposition: a space typically associated with the mundane rhythms of daily commutes became a site for contemplating the vast, invisible forces that connect us across the cosmos. The station itself became a metaphor for transit, not just between physical locations, but between the earthly and the celestial. Beyond its conceptual alignment, there was a practical benefit to presenting “Cosmic Strangers” as a public art in a train station. With the support of stakeholders, the highly-accessible location was rental-free. However, the space also posed significant challenges. Securing permissions to install a sculpture that doubled as a muon sensor in a functioning train station was a complex and time-consuming process. The prolonged approval timeline compressed our development schedule, leaving us with less time than anticipated to execute the project. Despite these hurdles, the rewards far outweighed the difficulties. The underground setting of Orchard MRT Station became more than just a backdrop—it became an integral part of the work, amplifying its themes and inviting commuters to pause, even momentarily, to reflect on the invisible threads that bind us to the cosmos.
What inspired you to integrate the idea of meteorite and asteroids with the theme of muography in your artworks: “Cosmic Strangers, Cardinal Nodes” and “Cosmic Strangers, Man and Muon”?
Land and water have been recurring motifs in my practice from the very beginning, naturally leading to a sustained engagement with geological materials. Curator and art writer Joella Kiu captured this preoccupation in a 2021 interview, writing, “Land symbolizes belonging and rootedness, while water represents movement, passage, and transformation… His use of geological materials and site-specific research further deepens his engagement with place, tracing the imprints of time and human experience.” In the story embedded in the Tang poem, when the cosmic explorer Zhang Qian asked the celestial beings he met where he was, their response came in the form of a stone. The stone became both a material messenger and a symbolic language object—a carrier of information. On one level, it transmitted information phenomenologically through its material tactility, visual qualities, and geological data. On another level, it served a symbolic function, much like language, conveying meaning beyond its physical presence.
Between the celestial and the human lies the stone—a material anchor, bridging both worlds. I sought to express this terrestrial-cosmic connection by embedding a Muonionalusta meteorite disc within a steel sculpture, merging a cosmic metal with an earthly one. This gesture of continuity, rather than dichotomy, grounds the celestial within the earthly and evokes an ongoing dialogue between the two realms.
Could you discuss details of the “Entangled Uncertainties” event and what you have planned?
Presented by the NTU Centre for Contemporary Art Singapore, “Entangled Uncertainties” brings together philosopher of physics Dr Eugene Chua and myself to share about our respective practice, followed by a conversation moderated by new media artist ong kian peng. I will focus on my artistic research into muons, and the multimodal outcomes.
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Born in Indonesia and living/working in Singapore, Boedi Widjaja has been having “conversations with” the cosmic ray muon and muography as part of his “Path.” series, a group of works that combines themes of exploration and homeland with the cosmic and invisible. Here, he describes some of the works from this series including: “Path. 11, Blindness” (Commissioned by the Exactly Foundation), “Path. 12, River Origin 浪淘沙” (Commissioned by BIO:ART SEA:T [Southeast Asia Taiwan] curated by Tang Fu Kuen and partly supported by the National Arts Council [Singapore] Creation Grant and Exactly Foundation), and “Path. 13, Quaver Cipher” (Supported by the National Arts Council Creation Grant and screened at Helwaser Gallery, New York, NY) as well as his thoughts on this field of study, his creation process and upcoming works.
When did you first learn about the cosmic ray muon and muography? What inspired you to incorporate it as a subject in your “Path” series? You also contacted Hiroyuki Tanaka to discuss muography and cosmic ray muons. How was that interaction?
I learnt of the existence of muon particles through an online article that mentioned the use of muography in archaeological imaging, at the cusp of the global pandemic. Piqued by curiosity, I went to read more about muons and was struck by how different they are—the unimaginable distance that cosmic rays cross to reach earth and the strange dilated time that muons occupy. On top of that, I was also drawn by how close they come, the fact that muons penetrate matter and my body every second. The extreme otherness of muons and its radical proximity to me led me to wonder—between a muon and I, what happens when our respective otherness touch? How do we perceive each other in the small space that we share? These thoughts resonated a lot with the question that I am exploring in my art and I decided to explore muons through my “Path.” series, a body of work that speaks to migratory notions of belonging, physical movement and isolation.As I was scrolling through the internet for information about muography, I kept coming across Prof. Tanaka’s name. His creativity and knowledge of the field is astounding! Through Muographix’s website, I learnt of his interest in visual art and sent him an email to get in touch. I didn’t know what to expect at first as Prof. Tanaka must be a busy man. Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised when he replied quickly. We went on to chat about my artistic exploration into muons and in the process, he kindly agreed to come on board as a scientist consultant!
Could you describe the “Blindness” project and the process you went through developing your own technique to “blindfold” the CMOS device in a digital smartphone camera for visualizing the presence and movement of invisible cosmic ray muons?
The project “Blindness” asks questions about the flattening of reality into screen-based images. Singapore’s drive towards becoming a “smart nation” projects a future that is framed by machine vision. In a digital, hyper ocular-centric world, the camera becomes the human’s primary sensing organ—from autonomous cars, surveillance to AI—through which reality is perceived and virtualised into frictionless data. As a human being with a corporeal body, I wanted to see if I could recover some friction—a trace of tactility and spatial movement from the photographic process. The natural phenomenon of muons materially crashing into the CMOS sensors of our devices helped me to “hack” the ocular logic of the camera. CMOS image sensors detect visible light as well as ionising radiation photons such as muons. To isolate the muon traces, I blindfolded a CMOS device to block off light—turning it momentarily into a tactile sensing instrument—and applied a code to visualise the muon signals on the sensor, which bore traces of their trajectories and intensities. The signals were then transformed through a photographic technique that I developed—a hand manipulation of an inverted camera lens—to produce a series of muographic marks that bore both traces of my hand’s micro movements and the vast cosmic space.
An important component of the “River Origin 浪淘沙” and “Quaver Cipher” projects is poetry, by 2nd century poet Zhang Qian and 21st century Tse Hao Guang respectively. What motivated you to choose these specific poets and words to highlight ideas and meaning in your projects?
I was fascinated by a story which was mentioned in the Tang poem 浪淘沙 (Waves Dredging Sand), that told of the mysterious crossing from the Yellow Riverhead waters to the Milky Way, by the Han Dynasty explorer Zhang Qian in his journey to the ancient Silk Road. The beginning of a river that ends with a myth, mirrors how I feel towards my ancestral beginnings—a distant place that I feel connected through language, inherited familial stories and folklore. The poem was written by Liu Yuxi, someone in exile who was pining for return. I couldn’t help but notice a pattern of movement and space across all the agents—muon, river, explorer, poet and artist. I had collaborated a number of times with Tse, being an admirer of his playful, sophisticated, materially conscious and process driven poetics. For “Quaver Cipher”, Tse devised a way of hacking into AI transcription algorithms to produce unpredictable textual outcomes, resulting in the mistranslations that happen in the film, which points to the gulf between a human and muon.
Could you describe the cosmic ray muon sensor device, made of double geiger-counters and an open-source algorithm, that you created and which is featured in the “River Origin 浪淘沙” and “Quaver Cipher” projects? What was your experience like during the process of designing and using this device?
I designed and built the muon tracker by adapting from an open-source code, and housing a double-geiger counter and electronics inside a 3D printed shell. When a muon hits the tracker, the particle triggers light and sound—a Morse Code recitation of a verse in the Tang Dynasty poem 浪淘沙(Waves Dredging Sand). The choice of using a double-geiger counter was informed by aesthetic and practical considerations. For the performance work, I wanted to show that my encounter with muons took place in the physical world hence it was important to somehow demonstrate that material—albeit invisible—reality. The front end of digital technology is becoming immaterial (and virtual) even as its back end grows physically big. Our handheld devices, enabled by the cloud that is running on hectares of data centres is an example. Therefore, I didn’t think that a particle detector with a digital interface was suitable. I wanted more friction in a material sense. The double-geigers, with their exposed gas tubes and circuitry, acted as a physical medium through which muons and I interacted. I considered using a plastic scintillator but due to practicalities, went on with the double-geigers. When I held the tracker close to my body, sensing its weight, and as it translated the invisible muons into perceivable light and sound, I felt a direct and palpable connection with the cosmos.
The themes of language, codes, boundaries, and bridges/rivers seem to be present throughout your “Path” series. How did the cosmic ray muon relate to these themes? What was the nature of the “conversations” you had with the cosmic ray muons?
The sense of otherness that the muon and I perceive in each other, as we occupy the same physical space in close proximity, forms the premise for our repeated attempts at communication in the film. Resonating with Zhang Qian’s bewilderment as he incidentally walked the Milky Way, I ask the muons where I am and where I should go. The muon “replies” in cryptic messages, an encoded form that obfuscates whatever intentions it has. Translations and mistranslations recur in this interdimensional exchange between a human and a cosmic muon.
What intrigues you the most about muography and cosmic ray muons? Do you have plans to continue to explore this subject in future projects?
The paradox of closeness and separation. How far cosmic rays traverse to come to earth and the close interaction between muons with our bodies. The tension between distance and proximity continues on in muography; it is a way to “see”, not ocularly from afar but through the physical contact between materials. I am currently working on two new projects. The first is a new interdisciplinary project that consists of a multimedia installation that activates through real-time muon tracking, with augmented reality (AR) elements integrated with the physical installation. The second is a hybrid genre film that draws on new findings on how our DNA is hit by muons, which leads to genetic breakages and mutations.
