The title comes from the Latin word anima, meaning “life,” “soul,” or “breath,” from which the word “animation” originates. In its earliest sense, animation meant “the act of imparting life.” This work transfers my breath, via digital systems, into a non-organic substance—effectively “cursing” or hacking the objects in a binary, mechanical way. The result is a primitive instrument that moves water back and forth, while referencing my own life log. In this sense, the object becomes possessed by my anima, serving as a kind of physical avatar.

The ways in which we preserve ourselves may become increasingly complex—digital clones able to exist indefinitely in virtual environments, or DNA information embedded in trees. Such possibilities suggest the emergence of a new form of animism, one in which existence is no longer tied to the physical body. This vision of persistence beyond bodily life may feel more primitive, or even more religious, than today’s dominant religions.