Interview

Lisa Jamhoury is a Movement Artist

Lisa Jamhoury is a movement artist and programmer creating embodied, computational experiences. Her work "Maquette" is a finalist for the 2025 Lumen Prize, and our Applied Experiment with her will launch later this year.

This interview was conducted by Andrew Trousdale on behalf of APOSSIBLE.

Lisa Jamhoury, photo rights her own.

Andrew

What is a ritual, practice, or routine in your life that is important for your psychological wellbeing and/or fulfillment? Why?

Lisa

It may be a bit cliche, but I have a daily practice of expressing gratitude. Usually, when I finish my daily meditation, I offer gratitude to a few people. They could be people that are instrumental to what I’m working on at the time, or people that just come into my mind. Sometimes they’re people who are really close to me, like family members or close creative collaborators. Sometimes they’re people I've never met, but who have done things in the world that have made it possible for me to be where I am—people who have fought the good fights for women's lib or freedom of speech or freedom of creative practice. 

Getting out of my head and thinking about my community is a helpful practice for me. Whether creative collaborators, grantors, curators, or teaching colleagues, I’m always working with others. I feel the community I form around myself and my practice impacts the caliber of my work, and is a reflection of my values. The practice of remembering others keeps me from stewing in what’s hard, or what’s not working, or what’s stressing me out. It reminds me of the positives, the possibilities, the interconnectedness of it all.

Andrew

What is a human-made creation that brings out the best in you? Why?

Lisa

My rope, or corde lisse. I have a background in contemporary circus, particularly in aerial acrobatics. Corde lisse, also called rope, is literally just that—one single rope—that hangs from the ceiling. I learn a lot from the rope's versatility and symbolism, both in performance and in everyday life.

I’ve always been drawn to minimalism in the arts and design. The rope is so simple, yet, as with any minimalist concept, creating with it presents layered challenges. To begin on a rope, you have to be able to pull yourself up onto it. From there, you need the strength to manipulate the apparatus around yourself, because being tied up and suspended by a rope can be very uncomfortable if you don’t have the strength to hold your body correctly. Then there’s the presence element: As you wrap the rope around you and wrap yourself around the rope, you’re usually hanging 10-20 feet in the air. One moment of mind wandering and you could be face down on the floor. I appreciate how this trains my focus. I find the attentiveness exciting, and I try to bring that state of being into other areas of my life.

I’ve always loved looking at a single rope hanging in the studio: One single strand with infinite choreographic possibilities, if you have both the drive and patience to meet it.

One single strand with infinite choreographic possibilities, if you have both the drive and patience to meet it.
by Lisa Jamhoury

Andrew

When do you cherish the slow or hard way of doing something? Why?

Lisa

Writing and coding. This is a timely topic for me. We’re in a really interesting moment where generative tools, like ChatGPT, are being used widely to write and to code. I do use GenAI in these contexts, and it’s interesting, even fun, but I also find it predictable and sometimes misleading. Despite trying to “simplify” my workflows with these tools, I still prefer to come up with my ideas and write first drafts on my own, without the use of GenAI. This may change for me at some point, but for someone deeply embedded with technology, I’m quite a slow adopter of new technical tools. I was slow to get a cell phone. I don’t have a TV or microwave in my home. I have a lot of computers, but they mostly stay in the studio. It’s not that I’m afraid of, or against the use of AI, or computation in general. Quite the contrary, I love working with it and have devoted my career to it. I just really enjoy the creative process of using my own mind and my own body to problem-solve and create. Rather than sit at my desk and chat with a GPT to move through writer’s block or a coding issue, I like to go for a walk or bike to the coffee shop. Especially when I’m in the early stages of a project, I find moving through the world around me to be more helpful than asking an algorithm. For now, at least.

Lately, I’ve been really inspired by Annie Murphy Paul’s book, The Extended Mind. In it, she discusses how humans are “loopy creatures.” Our brains, she explains, are actually able to do the most generative, effective processing by taking the slow, winding route instead of a linear input-output approach. She speaks to our biological intelligence of balancing internal and external modes of cognition—the idea that actually being in the world, taking walks, getting lost, and being patient, is an inherent strength, and need. I find this is certainly true in my work. The projects I am most proud of have been years in the making. In the end there are no short cuts: It takes time to create novel, meaningful work.

Andrew

What is something you appreciate or long for from the past? Why?

Lisa

Lately I’ve been missing a more disconnected time when we didn’t have smart phones and when we weren’t immediately accessible to everyone, everywhere. In the early 2000s, I backpacked around Europe for several months. I didn’t have a cell phone, even though they existed. I would wander around a new city, then get on a train, and get off in a different country. I would be totally alone, in a way. Once a week or so, I would pop into an internet cafe and send an update to my family, but otherwise no one knew where I was or what I was doing. It sounds almost crazy in today’s world, where my phone’s GPS location is shared 24/7 with my closest friends and family. But I remember how good it felt to be alone and anonymous.

I was recently reading an article about how being alone is good for us. I feel that we’ve gotten out of the practice of being alone. Now, we fill our alone time with being on our devices, rather than being with ourselves, our thoughts, our bodies.

I miss the feeling of being disconnected, because it allowed me to be really present. I feel my devices pull me out of the moment, reminding me of other places I need to be, errands I need to run, or pictures I need to take, rather than enjoying the very fleeting moments of my life. I guess you could say I long for disconnection from technology as a way to be more deeply connected to myself and my environments.

In the end there are no short cuts: It takes time to create novel, meaningful work.
by Lisa Jamhoury

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