In 2013, a group of oceanographers coined the term Plastisphere to describe the new ecosystems emerging on the surfaces of plastic fragments dispersed in the oceans. Bacteria, algae, cyanobacteria, and fungi settle on these debris: the artificial material becomes life support, generating a sort of hybrid organism, halfway between the living and the inorganic. But precisely because plastic is practically indestructible, it also carries pathogenic bacteria, opening up disturbing scenarios for the ecological balance.

My installation will begin with this image of the Plastisphere as a new substrate for life in a post-human world. In an aquarium filled with water, I will place a fragment of plastic collected from the Sicilian sea and brought to Milan: a seemingly inert object, yet already inhabited by microorganisms, which will appear to move in the water like a living being. Through a system of pumps, the material will be animated by currents and flows, while cameras will capture its details—reflections, ripples, microforms. In this suspended space, the image of the model, transformed and amplified by the projections, will appear as a dreamlike landscape that reveals its ambivalent nature: a sign of ecological devastation and, at the same time, a "seed of hope" similar to the mushrooms described by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, capable of sprouting in compromised places and indicating the possibility of rebirth.

The projections generated by this plastic fragment will also serve as a living score for a dancer, inspiring new movements and gestures. These will not be “natural” movements but hybrid ones — responses to the unpredictable forms, rhythms, and flows created by the material itself. In this way, human choreography becomes a symbiosis with the Plastisphere: a new vocabulary of motion shaped by ecological crisis, technology, and the aesthetics of survival.