Rethinking the Ending of EMPTYING
24 August 2026
Following my first intervention testing, I found myself thinking less about the intervention itself and more about how it ends. Although participants responded positively to the overall experience, I realised that the final stage still feels unresolved. Rather than simply improving individual details, I began questioning what the ending of EMPTYING should actually achieve.
One of the changes I plan to introduce in the next iteration is a more intentional opening. Several participants suggested that it was difficult to fully settle into the experience immediately after arriving. This made me consider adding a short guided relaxation before the intervention begins, inviting participants to slow their breathing, release tension in their shoulders and become more aware of their bodies. Rather than functioning only as preparation, this could become the first step of emptying itself. This idea also aligns with embodied approaches to interaction, which emphasise that bodily engagement shapes perception and experience rather than simply supporting it (Merleau-Ponty, 2012; Svanæs, 2013).
However, the biggest question for me concerns the ending of the participant journey.
During the testing, participants were invited to decide whether they wanted to take their wooden leaf away or leave it on the Space Tree. Although the tree was designed as a sculptural installation with a strong visual presence, its practical function was simply to hold the wooden leaves. Surprisingly, I observed something that I had not anticipated. Every participant placed their leaf differently. Some chose a high branch, others carefully selected a hidden position, while some balanced the leaf delicately or even turned it upside down. These choices appeared deeply personal.
At first, I wondered whether these different placements should be interpreted. Could the position of the leaf reveal something about the participant’s emotional state or personality? However, I quickly became uncomfortable with this idea. Providing fixed interpretations would risk turning the intervention into a psychological test, whereas the intention of EMPTYING has always been to create an open space for personal reflection rather than offering predetermined meanings.
This uncertainty led me to imagine a completely different possibility.
Instead of ending with a sculptural Space Tree, what if the intervention continued through a living tree?
Rather than existing only within the testing environment, the tree could become part of nature. Participants who choose to leave their wooden leaf could attach it to a real tree using string or another reversible method. The tree would remain in the same location over time, while the wooden leaves gradually changed through weather, sunlight and the passing of seasons.
I began imagining what might happen after one week, one month, one year or even ten years. Some leaves might fade, crack or disappear completely. Others might remain. I realised that I do not actually know what will happen, and perhaps that uncertainty is meaningful in itself. If a leaf eventually falls from the tree or disappears into nature, could that also become a poetic expression of emptiness?
To support this idea, I imagined creating a simple website where participants could find the tree’s location and occasionally revisit it. Rather than functioning as the intervention itself, the website would simply record the continuing life of the tree. Participants could return whenever they wished, observe its changes and perhaps reflect on whether what they had chosen to release still felt important.
Figure 1. Early concept sketch of a living Space Tree.
At the same time, I am uncertain whether this idea moves too far away from the original intervention.
One concern is that introducing a living tree, a website and long-term documentation may shift the focus from the embodied experience itself towards an ongoing public artwork. Another practical concern is maintenance. If I eventually leave London, who would care for the tree? Would the intervention become dependent on continuous management, or would that contradict the philosophy of emptying?
These questions brought me back to a much simpler possibility.
Perhaps the ending does not need another object at all. Perhaps what needs to change is not the tree itself, but the meaning of leaving the wooden leaf behind.
Instead of suggesting that participants are leaving something behind, perhaps the intervention could invite them to entrust it to the space.
If you choose to leave it, you are not abandoning it.
You are entrusting it to this space.
This subtle shift in language changes the role of the Space Tree. It is no longer a display object or a place for storage, but a temporary holder of what participants no longer wish to carry. Rather than providing a final answer, the ending becomes an invitation to continue reflecting beyond the intervention itself. This also resonates with Turner’s (1969) idea that meaningful experiences often remain open and liminal, rather than ending with a fixed conclusion.
At this stage, I have not yet decided which direction to pursue. Rather than rushing towards a solution, I hope to discuss these possibilities with my tutor and consider how the ending can better support the central idea of EMPTYING without becoming overly prescriptive or unnecessarily complex. As Norman (2013) argues, people remember experiences as complete journeys rather than isolated interactions. My current challenge is therefore not only how participants let go, but also how they leave the experience.
References
Merleau-Ponty, M. (2012) Phenomenology of Perception. Translated by D.A. Landes. London: Routledge.
Norman, D.A. (2013) The Design of Everyday Things. Revised and Expanded Edition. New York: Basic Books.
Svanæs, D. (2013) ‘Interaction Design for and with the Lived Body: Some Implications of Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology’, ACM Transactions on Computer-Human Interaction, 20(1), Article 8.
Turner, V. (1969) The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Aldine Publishing.
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