In the multi-sensory installation A Shell of a House, artist Sharon Azagi created an open system in which the breath of one organic body continued to exist within another — a body that was no longer present.
At the heart of the installation was a biological sensor connected to the leaves of a sweet potato plant, sensitive to environmental changes and generating micro-pulses that measured the plant’s "pulse." These pulses were translated into sensory states such as "breath," "sigh," or "response" — ranging from soft sighs of discomfort to heavy sighs indicating distress.

These sensations were given visual expression through the recorded breathing of Azagi’s late grandmother, whose image was projected onto a transparent mist screen. The projection appeared and faded like a ghostly presence, enhancing the sense of impermanence in the installation.
Her grandmother tried to sing a childhood song, but her physical condition made it difficult. Her voice occasionally cracked, strained, faltered, and at times dissolved into the mist emitted from a fog machine hidden inside the body of an old vacuum cleaner.

The space itself resembled a domestic environment, yet its objects felt hollow, temporary, and almost disconnected from any context — while at the same time carrying deep emotional and cultural weight. The impression was that of a sensory greenhouse: a place where life still breathed within what had already dried, decayed, and remained only as a shell.

A Shell of a House was both an installation of farewell and an act of preservation. It was a poetic attempt to recreate the possibility of life within the cracks of memory — a sensory archive in which breath served as a mode of communication, and the voice of someone no longer living continued to resonate within a body, beyond the bounds of time.

Photography: Daniel Hanoch, Tomer Haruvi