To me, the stand out Blast Theory projects are those that nest authentic, undeniably human narratives within innovative, carefully crafted digital interfaces. Works like Can You See Me Now?, You Get Me and We Cut Through Dust that foster a community, of sorts, and transcend physical space with the support of technology.

Rider Spoke is my favourite example. It invites you to get lost in both the physical urban landscape and the intimate audio confessions of strangers as you cycle alone through the city. Prompted by Ju Row Farr’s narration, it’s an artwork that relies on generosity, reciprocity and the audience’s willingness to share their own personal histories.

I wanted to find out more about the dynamics behind a participatory art work such as this: one that encourages vulnerability and honesty from its participants, specifically through the act of speaking. So I recently sat down with Nick for a deep dive into his PhD research on the project.

Titled “Dialogue, Data, and Place: What Can We Learn from Blast Theory’s Rider Spoke About AI’s Role in Fostering Belonging and Social Cohesion?” (and breathe), Nick’s research analyses audience responses to uncover what Rider Spoke can teach us about community, ‘unfinishedness,’ and the potential of large language models in artistic works.

Have a read of our conversation below.

– Macy

Macy: Can you tell me what led you to your PhD research subject?

Nick: One thing was thinking about Blast Theory’s historic work and how we invite audiences to speak and commit something of themselves to the work. We take the view that the work is only ‘finished’ in the act of audiences engaging with it. In the early days of Blast Theory, that involved creating spaces in which people could freely move or were actually invited to participate in some ways. More recently, in digital projects, it’s where people are invited to engage through interfaces. What is it that we invite from audiences that is important?

The second was thinking about technology and physical space: how technology has shifted our attention and changed how we value physical spaces. Seeing so many living spaces dedicated to large flat screens made me think about how much our attention, our literacy and our competencies for navigating the world and one another are channelled through screen-based media. 

While we still engage with the physical world, it can sometimes feel like it’s a kind of backstage area that acts as a supporting infrastructure to the visually and culturally richer time we spend on our screens. This makes me wonder how we can regain our sense of presence and attention in physical spaces.

We Made Ourselves Over by Blast Theory

Macy: What is the most interesting thread you’ve been following in your research so far?

Nick: It’s been interesting to explore ideas from other fields, like social science and philosophy, that support some of the ideas we’ve been using in Blast Theory. Particularly around the notion of community as not just a matter of identity and familiarity, but as something built on openness, voluntary relationships, and vulnerability.

There’s a writer, Peter Block, who works in community development who says that one of the hallmarks of communities is asking ‘powerful’ questions, rather than having answers. In the act of asking questions, everyone becomes drawn into the process of answering and there are no formulaic answers to the things that we’re all in a constant process of trying to figure out. We all have slightly different perspectives on everything. There’s something in that – around that sense of ‘liveness’ and ‘unfinishedness’ – that relates to Blast Theory’s work.

The other thing is understanding the technical reading around large language models and how they produce human-like speech. So learning that, and what the actual processes are for training them and for fine tuning them, it’s kind of curious to see how in some ways, just how rudimentary they still are. It still feels like early days for generative AI and large language models. 

Macy: What do you think it takes for an audience member to feel comfortable enough to ‘speak’ in a project such as Rider Spoke? 

Nick: That’s a very big question and it’s one of the things I’m hoping to work out. Firstly, there’s the physical setting of making a recording. We talked a lot when we were making the work about how cycling is a space that you can reflect in, so the structure of the work gives you time as you’re exploring on a bike to reflect on the questions that you’ve been asked in a very embodied way. There’s also something nice about recording in a place because it feels like it attaches meaning to it; it locates it and kind of grounds the recording.

And then I suppose there’s the ‘invitation’ from Ju, the narrator in Rider Spoke.  You’re invited to go exploring and within the invitation, it’s explicit that it’s taking time out from your everyday life for yourself. There’s also the greater context that it’s normally presented in: it might be hosted at a festival or arts event and it has that kind of frame that theatre sometimes has, of being slightly otherworldly. It takes you out of your everyday space and the rules change as to what you can and can’t do, what’s expected. So that’s kind of a nice space to be in.

Finally, there is the sense of reciprocating. In Ju’s narration, she prompts you with questions but all of the questions also include a kind of disclosure of something of herself. This creates a sense that, “well, I’m sharing this -something about me – in order to ask you this question.”

As soon as you’ve done your first recording, you then hear the other cyclist recordings. This achieves a few things: one is that you hear other people being open and talking about themselves, and so it kind of has a sense of, ‘oh, I’m not going to be the only one doing this’. And it then is transparent as to how your own recordings will then appear. You see and understand the kind of context that any recordings that you make will appear under. So there is this sense that you’re contributing to this kind of a landscape or a body of recordings.

Rider Spoke by Blast Theory

Macy: Do you think there is an appeal to speaking in a Blast Theory work? 

Nick: I don’t think anyone comes to the work eager to make recordings about themselves. 

It’s surprising how many people open up. Some people find it really cathartic. But it’s not an appeal of the work. It’s more like a hurdle we have to get people over to participate. People often prefer to sit and watch, or feel safe. 

Creating a space for reflection that enables people to speak dictates the shape of the work. It’s putting people in a challenging situation but one where they feel able to take risks or make themselves vulnerable. 

I suppose the principle is that people should feel they have something to say, and that should come from them rather than us forcing microphones in their faces and demanding they tell us something important. Some people actively avoid sharing personal experiences. 

Macy: What considerations do Blast Theory take to ensure participants feel supported and safe when sharing potentially vulnerable experiences?

Nick: Care is one of the critical terms we talk about in the way that Rider Spoke is performed: in how we introduce the work and even in small things like how we hand over equipment or how we offer to adjust your saddle. When you take part, you’re sent out by a member of the Blast Theory team and received by them when you return.  When you come back, we ask an open question: “How was it?”. Part of that is to check that we haven’t triggered someone. We’ve had people come back and say that answering a question was difficult for them, so it’s an opportunity to check in because some of the accounts people give can be distressing.

Macy: Rider Spoke uses a moderating process which ranks responses in terms of those deemed the most interesting by the Blast Theory team.  How do you feel about the ones that ‘don’t make the cut’ and how does leaving them change the experience of the work?

Nick: When we first talked about Rider Spoke, we saw it as our attempt to make a user-generated content system. It was 2007, in the early days of YouTube and we asked  ourselves “Can we make a version of YouTube that’s not focused on people being flippant or trying to entertain in the first five seconds?”

However, in Rider Spoke, there’s no way to skip answering a question so some people just don’t have something they want to say. So they might record silence or give a one-word answer. Or give an answer that avoids talking about their own personal experience. 

Compared to other user-generated content networks, Rider Spoke has a tiny audience and a tiny number of ‘content views’, so it’s not practical to use crowdsourcing to rank contributions. If we left everything in, you’d end up with a mix of irrelevant or less relevant content. So it’s handcrafted. We listen to everything and put ourselves in the audience’s shoes and ask: “How much would I want to hear this?” 

We prioritise people talking concretely about their own personal experience. It’s a collaborative work. Audiences are contributing something of themselves and we’re editing and making choices about what should be included. 

Macy: How have Blast Theory’s audiences shifted in recent years with the introduction of more digitally distributed work and technology-led projects?

Nick: One of the principles around Blast Theory is finding audiences for whom traditional forms of theatre don’t appeal. In the past, when we made performance-based work, we aimed for people who weren’t interested in traditional forms, who were doing other things in cultural spaces. We drew cultural references from popular culture, with settings and contexts around social spaces like live music or DJs.

More recent work, which is more technology-led, follows a similar principle of using accessible forms of interaction to create more meaningful engagement. One of the properties of the arts is the space for reflection, often a result of privilege. If there are different ways to create those means of reflection that don’t require buying a ticket or having a certain education level, that’s one of our thoughts—different ways into those spaces for critical reflection that don’t require cultural capital.

I do think a lot of our audience comes from traditional arts audiences. But with digitally distributed work, like “Karen” or “Short Periods of Structured Nothingness,” or “Cluster of 17 Cases Online,” we’ve targeted different audiences or worked with specific communities to bring their voices into the work.

Ultimately, Rider Spoke highlights the power of transparency in fostering community and creating spaces for vulnerability—values that feel increasingly vital as large language models become a collaborator in artistic processes.

The piece also made me consider how multiple voices and stories interact in a digital environment. I’m currently in the R&D phase of my immersive project as one of the young creatives on Lighthouse Brighton’s 2024/25 talent development scheme. I plan to examine the relationship between identity and the physical environment, using multiple voices and masks and Caribbean folklore as a vehicle… watch this space!

As I prepare for my first public art exhibition(!) in April next year, I’ll be considering lessons from Rider Spoke; whether it’s on fostering belonging, encouraging vulnerability, or creating spaces for reflection.  Rider Spoke serves as a reminder that technology is not just a tool for efficiency—it can be a bridge to deeper, more meaningful human experiences.

Nick’s PhD research will continue to explore the role large language models could play in helping us to understand what creates community within the context of a digital environment. If you want to follow along with Nick’s PhD research, sign up to our newsletter where once a month Nick gives us an update.