Echo: Project Update

Researching, Listening, Sketching, and Staying Ahead of the Heat

Spring has me deep in the process of structuring my research, refining my animation sketches, and making sure I wrap up all necessary medical appointments before summer.

I’ve been taking cues from PhD researchers who use digital tools to tag and cross-reference sources, creating a system that helps me connect seemingly disparate ideas. My goal is to review at least one research article per week, and right now, I’m particularly focused on how vulnerable bodies—human and non-human—are affected by environmental instability.

One of the most compelling pieces I’ve read recently was about Bernie Kraus and his work in acoustic ecology. Kraus, a soundscape ecologist, has spent decades documenting the natural world’s soundscapes, only to hear them fall increasingly silent due to habitat destruction, climate change, and human interference. I highly recommend viewing The New Yorker documentary “The Last of the Nightingales” which digs deeply into the history of his recordings and his research. His idea of "biophony"—the way ecosystems create their own complex, interconnected soundscapes—resonates deeply with my experience of chronic illness. Just as landscapes fall silent with ecological collapse, bodies also lose their voices in systemic failures. This has given me a lot to think about as I push forward with Burn.

Creatively, I’ve been challenging myself to complete at least three sketches a day, leaning into the limitations of my hand control by using blind contour line drawings. The process allows for a raw, unfiltered look at form and movement, which feels especially fitting given the nature of my subject matter. Lately, I’ve been sketching my own face in flare states, capturing the shifts in skin, the fatigue in my eyes, the way my muscles respond (or don’t). There’s something deeply honest in these drawings—they aren’t about accuracy but about truth.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to get through my annual medical checkups while the temperatures are still manageable. Spring is a small window where travel for appointments is possible before the heat forces me into a kind of seasonal hibernation. The biggest shift this year is working with a new cardiologist who seems genuinely interested in digging into my case. It’s a small thing, but curiosity in a doctor is something I don’t take for granted.

For now, I’m moving forward, slowly but intentionally—reading, drawing, listening. Burn continues to take shape, not just as a film but as a way of making sense of the world and my place in it. More soon.

—Shannon