1. How did you approach the design of a material system that could support living, light-emitting algae while remaining stable and touch-responsive over time?
After becoming fascinated by the potential of living materials, two fundamental questions emerged: which organisms to work with, and what format would be compatible with everyday objects.
One of the most difficult aspects of developing a living material is determining whether it is, in fact, alive. Bioluminescent microalgae became the organism of choice, as their emission of light offers an immediate, visible indication of health. While the functional benefits of bioluminescent materials are limited, the technique holds immense potential when combined with other microorganisms.
It took extensive exploration to develop a viable format for integrating living materials into daily life. The final process emerged from a synthesis of techniques drawn from textiles, microfluidics, biomaterials, and microbiology. Iterative development is ongoing, focusing on optimising the algae’s lifespan, material durability, and touch sensitivity.
2. What challenges did you encounter in encapsulating microalgae within a solid structure, and how did you resolve issues related to oxygenation, light access, or contamination?
Creating a habitable environment for microalgae is, surprisingly, quite simple. It can be achieved with widely available materials and straightforward techniques. While the process draws inspiration from advanced research, it was important to me that the final methodology remained accessible—something that anyone could replicate in their own kitchen.
The greater challenge lies in caring for the material. Microalgae have similar needs to humans: a circadian rhythm, regular sunlight, and gas exchange. This requires time and effort—something many users are unwilling to provide.
What’s most interesting is working with people who desire the end product but are unwilling to adapt their behaviour to care for the living organisms that create it. After years of designing commercial products, this project inverts the conventional human–material relationship. The goal is to create a material so desirable that people are motivated to change their expectations and habits to accommodate it.
3. What criteria guided your selection of algae species during the bioprospecting phase in Polynesia, and how did their natural behaviour shape your final formulation?
It is estimated that for every known microorganism, 100,000 remain undiscovered. During initial research in French Polynesia, I encountered a vast diversity of microorganisms with potential applications - but the greatest challenge was finding a format in which their properties could be meaningfully used.
This first project intentionally worked with a well-characterised microorganism that emits light in response to touch, providing immediate feedback on its health. Several species fit this profile, each with unique traits that informed material development.
Culturally, the choice also had resonance. Most functional living organisms produce slime. While biologically fascinating, slime is difficult for the public to relate to—it’s hard to perceive as “alive.” Bioluminescence, however, is immediately recognisable as a living phenomenon, evoking wonder. Its magical, ethereal quality is nearly impossible to replicate synthetically and can create awe-inspiring experiences that shift perception.
This was especially fitting in Tahiti, where the interplay of light and dark has deep cultural significance. Ocean navigation relies on reading the stars - only visible in the dark - making darkness a space of orientation and discovery.
4. How does the material respond to environmental factors like temperature, light cycles, and handling frequency, and how were these responses tested or calibrated during development?
The best analogy for the material is a houseplant in a spacesuit. While the encapsulation provides resilience to environmental fluctuations, the organism inside still needs conditions similar to human comfort.
It requires regular sunlight, a stable temperature (ideally 16–24°C), and can be handled and stimulated frequently. However, like a human, it can’t function indefinitely. It needs rest and recovery.
In some ways, a wearable symbiotic material is ideal. It thrives when we thrive. If we look after ourselves, we look after it, too.
5. What role did the Francis Crick Institute play in the technical development of the living material, particularly in terms of biological performance or validation?
The Francis Crick Institute provided access to specialised facilities and equipment and supported the development of the fabrication technique through their expertise in living cells and microfluidics.
Our collaboration generated more questions than answers. In addition to the final design, numerous high-potential ideas and prototypes emerged, though we lacked the time to fully develop them. We hope to collaborate again in the future, as the potential is vast.
6. How did the collaboration with Polynesian artisans influence the fabrication process, and what adjustments were needed to accommodate the material’s biological sensitivity?
Completing this project in the "field" had a significant impact on its development. Techniques refined at the Francis Crick Institute had to be adapted to work in kitchens, classrooms, or basic studios. The resulting process is accessible to anyone—something I believe gives the material a unique quality.
As Julia Watson outlines in Lo–TEK, such simple yet ingenious approaches often arise from, or encourage, deeper connections to nature.
There were many memorable moments - like the attempt to build a sterile flow hood in a school for a mycelium inoculation experiment. Although contamination occurred, the experience underscored how “natural” processes in biological making are often highly controlled and artificial.
7. Were any traditional making techniques modified or reinterpreted to align with the physical limits of the living material, especially in terms of tooling, adhesives, or finishes?
The process of making the living material itself is entirely novel and didn’t involve adapting traditional techniques. However, the artefacts created in collaboration with local artisans - Hinatea, Tokai, Jeremie, and Nuami - did require traditional practices to be used in new ways.
Learning these processes was a privilege, and I’m deeply grateful to my collaborators for their openness in sharing their craft.
8. What strategies did you put in place to manage the material’s end-of-life or natural degradation, and how is this communicated to those interacting with the artefacts?
At the heart of this project is the idea of a living material - which naturally leads to thinking about its death. Using animistic language helps reframe our relationship to materials and challenges conventional expectations.
To ensure sufficient robustness for experimentation and impact, some synthetic components are currently necessary. However, I am actively exploring fully biodegradable and naturally derived alternatives, and I see this as a key area for future development.
This raises philosophical questions about living organisms in synthetic homes. Consider a hermit crab: it inhabits a dead shell. If the shell biodegraded too quickly, it would be a poor shelter - yet it remains natural.
While fully living materials remain technically difficult, we can look to nature for design inspiration in creating symbiotic habitats for organisms.
9. Do you see this material platform evolving toward functional applications beyond artefacts—such as responsive installations, ambient interfaces, or educational tools?
This bioluminescent living material was designed to show what’s possible—its purpose is to create a visceral, awe-inspiring experience through touch.
I don’t see a large-scale demand for bioluminescent materials as functional products, especially given their care requirements and the subtlety of their glow.
Some may view this stance as nihilistic, but I see it differently. The method developed here has broader applications when paired with other microorganisms, among the 99.999% still unknown to us. Industries like pharmaceuticals and marine research have promising use cases where the benefits could justify the investment and behavioural shift required for symbiosis.
If certain sectors adopt living materials, their R&D efforts could make these materials viable for broader use in the future.
10. What are the next steps for Lucid Life in terms of material optimisation, new organism integration, or future interdisciplinary collaborations?
There are several key directions I’m pursuing:
- Rights of Nature and community benefit.
To raise the funding required for continued material development, intellectual property must be protected. However, much of this IP originates from the natural world and the communities I collaborated with. At present, it’s not possible for Nature or Indigenous communities to be recognised as inventors or beneficiaries on a patent. I’m exploring ways to change this.
Recognising Nature’s intellectual contributions and ensuring Nature can benefit, would be a radical and necessary shift.
2. New collaborations.
The material has inspired designers worldwide. I’m now working with international collaborators to integrate living materials into their practices. My goal is to raise awareness that living material making is possible—and to spark a movement of new research and design.
Currently, I lack the capacity to explore new organisms myself, but I hope to grow the project in the future, and also that others will help to carry this work forward.
