Form for Fluid Computer

Do you know the definition of a computer? According to the dictionary, it is "an automatic machine for processing information, obeying programs formed by arithmetic and logical sequences". Although the words used seem clear, the definition is nonetheless abstract, which makes it difficult to visualise an image of the computer other than the one we all already have in mind. Yet the history of computational systems goes back to antiquity, and computers have taken different forms before and alongside those that have been popularised, as technologies have evolved. In her project Form for Fluid Computer, Ioana Vreme Moser explores an alternative form of computer based on a forgotten technology, and with it, a new narrative of our future. Between ecological economy, fluidic mechanism and low tech philosophy, she shows us another way.

As Ioana begins to develop her project, she has two concerns.

The first one is related to computer models and their creators; long before the automated and digital systems we know today, devices were designed to decode the world around us. Let's take the astrolabe: it is a tool that was used throughout Antiquity and the Middle Ages by navigators and astronomers from the four corners of the world to find their way in time and space. It consists of several superimposed discs, each representing a distinct function which, when combined by a rotating mechanism, calculate the height of the stars and their direction. By calculating the variations of quantifiable physical data, it makes it possible to solve the problem and model it. This is the definition of an analog computer, and the astrolabe is a good example. Ioana's second concern is the history of the components and their political implications; the design of our current computers, i.e. digital computers, involves the extraction of mineral resources, generally from poor countries, sometimes hit by war, and where the workforce lives and works in appalling conditions.

With this as a starting point, and given the multitude of catastrophic scenarios linked to our future, the artist asks the question: if all the super-sophisticated computer systems on which we depend were to disappear overnight, how would we manage to establish communication? Ioana knows that the key element in the functioning of electronics is the transistor, a component that has the ability to modulate and amplify electrical signals thanks to a material called a semiconductor. As the name suggests, its electrical conductivity is halfway between insulating materials and metals, and this feature allows the amount of current flowing through the transistor to be controlled. Their manufacture is complex, but the artist discovers that it would be possible to imitate their properties by recovering materials that we have at our disposal, such as the galvanised sheet metal used for roofing when it is heated in certain areas. She organises a series of workshops on the subject called Politics of Parts.

Alongside her experiments, she continues to look for other amplifier systems and stumbles upon fluidics, a field that relies on computation through the movement of water streams. It's 2019, Ioana is doing research but finds very little information online, the subject being rather niche. So she starts to draw prototypes without understanding 100% how it works. It is only in 2022 that she resumes her research at the library of the Technische Universitat in Berlin, which has an important archive on fluidics. One of the first water-based analog computers, called a "hydraulic integrator", was designed in 1936 by Vladimir Lukyanov, the principle being to replace the mechanical process with water. In 1957, American researchers filed patents for their new creation, the fluidic amplifier. To visualise it, imagine a system of interconnected tanks and tubes through which water (or other fluid) flows. From the initial reservoir, the water is pumped into the tubes which form branching circuits. This means that not only can the path taken by the water stream be different depending on the pressure at which the water is pumped, but also that it can be controlled. The streams can be guided from right to left by a Coanda effect; as the stream meets a convex surface, it attaches to it and flows, it undergoes a deviation in its trajectory. Let's say you have a tea in your hands and you pour it very slowly, the fluid attaches itself to the side of the cup and then flows out into the void when it has nowhere else to stick. In the same way, Ioana can create a logical command and direct the water stream where she wants it. In short, the water enters the circuit, follows a predefined path resulting from a series of operations, and exits providing information. This refers to the basic elements of the analog computer.

Now she has to define each channel to make sense of the information. She is inspired by MONIAC, an analog computer based on fluidic logic, created by Bill Phillips in 1949 to model the British economy. In his concept, water represents money, and money could flow down the tube of consumption into the tank of people's needs, in a completely transparent circuit. She also looks at World3, the computer simulation on which the 1972 Limits of Growth report is based. The simulation is built on the following variables: population, food production, industrialisation, pollution and consumption of non-renewable natural resources. And the report is blunt, concluding: "the most likely outcome will be a fairly sudden and uncontrollable decline in population and industrial capacity". This is precisely what interests Ioana, and this is the subject she chooses to address.

She imagines an installation based on the MONIAC model in which we can transparently visualise our consumption of resources and the rate of global growth through two scenarios: "business as usual" in which if we do nothing, we will suffer the societal collapse predicted by World3, and an equilibrium scenario in which policies regulate consumption to build a sustainable model. Ioana is now working on mapping her circuit: in the World3 scenario, if the pollution rate increases, the water tank that represents it will fill up by drawing from another tank that represents the world population. Or, on the contrary, the world's population will increase, letting the resources slowly drain away until the water disappears.

In her early experiments, she had the devices made by a glass craftsman, and although the material is appealing, glass can have drawbacks. The complexity of the circuit requires the creation to be handmade, which makes it fragile, and unfortunately too inaccurate. It would therefore need a material that could be moulded, such as perhaps ceramic. But for practical reasons, Ioana also has devices made in Plexiglas, which is more resistant and lighter, a first since she had never worked with plastic before. She tests and explores her circuits, letting the process dictate the path of the final work. She also collaborates with scientists and engineers when technical needs arise.

The aim of this research is not to illustrate precise data, but to make the fast pace of today's world visible and to visualise the potential benefits of putting a stop to it. Fluidics itself is a perfect example; until the 1970s, this model was competitive in the market, but its slowness and mass mean that a multitude of parameters have to be taken into account in comparison with electronics, which in turn has seen transistors become smaller and the power of digital computers grow exponentially as Moore's law indicates. But if fluid technology seems futile because it is limited by the development of its own body, it is nevertheless back in the research laboratories in a derivative form: microfluidics.

For Ioana, the study of former technologies and their decline remains central to her work. This year, she starts a cycle of workshops in Italy, Austria and France at NØ SCHOOL Nevers, dedicated to fluidic theory, which she mixes with Politics of Parts on semiconductors for the practical part. She is also exhibiting her work Fluid Memory on the same theme between Timisoara, European Capital of Culture 2023, and Berlin.

By using fluidics as a technical process and by putting future scenarios into perspective, Form for Fluid Computer crosses the line into a political act.

But not only. Ioana Vreme Moser invites us to pause and be aware of the fragility of our existence. She encourages us to listen to and respect our own slow but stable rhythm, like that of a resilient nature.