Zimoun creates art that exists on multiple planes and that hits his audience in waves that compliment each other and draw us deeper into the sensory universe he creates. Visually, his works, often consisting of scores of identical constructions engaged in repetitive actions. In one piece shown at the Art Museum Lugano, Switzerland, 36 ventilators, 4.7m3 packing chips, (2014) Zimoun employed motors, assorted metal, everyday styrofoam found in cardboard boxes world-wide, nylon, and wood. From afar, the styrofoam looks like soapy waves splashing against window panes. Only after closer inspection does the materiality reveal itself.

In another work shown at Villa Manin, Italy, 49 preapred dc-motors, rope, glasses, 11.6 kg wood, (2023), tiny wooden blocks are spun by slender ropes inside of drinking glasses. The gentle percussion creates a delicate soundscape that hovers between mechanical precision and organic randomness.

In 658 prepared dc-motors, cotton balls, cardboard boxes 70x70x70cm, (2017), cotton balls pulsate against cardboard in hypnotic unison, creating a visual field that resembles a living, breathing organism. The soft thumping generates a bass-heavy ambience that fills the exhibition space with textured sound.

A work shown at Kulturhaus obere Stube, Stein am Rhein, Switzerland, 2022/2023, 198 prepared dc-motors, chains, cardboard boxes 10x10x10 cm, (2022) involves tiny beaded metal chains rattling on cardboard boxes, producing a higher-pitched sound compared with the cotton ball installations, reminiscent of rainfall on a tin roof or countless tiny fingers tapping impatiently.

The first thing that comes across is the surprising aesthetic balance he achieves by way of sheer quantity, something that runs contrary to the seemingly haphazard way the objects are placed. There is order in chaos, pattern in randomness—a contradiction that speaks to Zimoun’s masterful command of space and material.

The objects flutter and tap and sometimes whisper (but we’ll get to that in a minute). They move with mechanical consistency yet produce results that feel strangely alive, echoing natural phenomena despite their industrial components.

As the objects engage in their repetitive motions, they create monotonous droning that initially appears uniform and unchanging. The sound seems to flatten time and space, enveloping visitors in an auditory cocoon of mechanical white noise.

But if you have the patience, rhythms begin to emerge and reveal themselves like muted utterances in quiet rooms. The intricate syncopations underlying repetitive notes in a Phillip Glass composition. And once you hear them, as they say, you can’t unhear them.

It is a revelation that completes the experience, a realization that Zimoun’s physical sculptures have been transformed into a legion of automata shaping the surrounding ether, transcending their material constraints to become conduits for something more ethereal—sound architecture that constructs invisible spaces within visible ones.

Zimoun set aside some time to discuss his approach to art with SCINQ.

Your works often involve minimalistic structures and mechanical systems. How do you define minimalism in your art, and what draws you to it?

Minimalism is deeply rooted in my activities and methodology. The facets of minimalism are versatile and expansive. For me minimalism is a strategy of precision and focus: removing everything until only the essence remains, which can then be examined more closely. I also associate minimalism with simplicity. I am using simple systems to explore complexity. This approach is then directly tied to my choice of materials: I work with simple, raw, functional, and mostly recycled materials from everyday life and industry. 

A material ethic is also linked to this choice, creating connections to ecology, resources, our throwaway society and therefore also politics, and an aesthetic of the unspectacular. Simplicity can reveal complex interactions between material, sound, and space, offering connections to chaos theory and emergence: reduced systems generate intricate dynamics through random interactions. These systems exist in a tension between geometric order and chaotic behavior.

Minimalist principles are also reflected in the serial arrangement of multiplied elements and the modular structures of my installations. Through multiplication, fields of sound emerge, creating a three-dimensional sound spaces. At the same time, multiplication and the resulting mass make the individuality of each element visible and observable.

These are a few examples. I find connections to minimalism, reductive approaches, methods, and principles in virtually every aspect of my practice.

Many of your installations are characterized by soundscapes generated by mechanical elements. What role does sound play in how you approach creating new work?

Sound is the reason why my works are based on mechanical systems: I aim to create sounds and noises in real time within three-dimensional space. I am particularly interested in generating behavior that appears organic using simple, artificial systems. My goal is to create complexity despite the simplicity inherent in these systems. This allows me to engage with complexity and how we perceive it.

Space and material are directly connected to sound, but the visual aesthetics and functionality of the elements are equally central to me, as is the spatial and atmospheric effect. I cannot say that acoustics are more important than optics or vice versa—everything is interconnected and equally significant. The origin of my work with mechanical systems, however, lies in sound—it was initially a matter of function.

Most of my works are site-specific, meaning the space itself plays a central role too in developing a new piece. It is, therefore, a process of assembling many puzzle pieces that ultimately come together to form a whole.

How do you view the relationship between chaos and control in your installations?

There are many apparent contradictions in my work: simplicity and complexity, routine and chance, artificial and organic, precision and imperfection, mass and individuality, … I am interested in how these opposites can coexist within the same system, even though they may seem mutually exclusive. Order and chaos are part of this dynamic. Just as simplicity can be useful for studying complexity, order can help to observe chaos. They are coexisting forces that often resemble natural processes. In nature, simple rules can lead to complex behaviors, such as swarming or flowing patterns, resulting in emergent structures.

So on one hand, I control a great deal until the final system is developed. This process involves numerous decisions made across multiple stages of prototyping, experimenting, and testing. On the other hand, once the system is complete, I allow it to unfold its own behavior. My focus is on developing systems that, within a specific and precisely defined framework, go out of control, creating an apparent sense of vitality. At this stage, I no longer intervene, as doing so would disrupt the system and its purity.

What significance does the repetition of simple materials and motions hold in your creative process?

There are various aspects of repetition and multiplication that interest me. The repetition of simple elements creates a seemingly static “sound field” that continuously evolves and varies, yet never completely changes nor repeats exactly. This static dynamism allows for the observation of micro-events and material properties.

Through multiplication, subtle differences and the individual behaviors of materials become visible. It also leads to complex sound structures through overlaps and polycyclic shifts. Additionally, repetition and mass enhance a hypnotic effect, opening further perspectives for observation and exploration.

Repetition offers a way to observe the transition from order to chaos and can be connected to cyclical processes in nature, such as rhythms, recurrence, and transience. In science, repeated experiments are used to investigate variation and consistency. Similarly, repetition in my work allows for the observation of subtle differences and emergent phenomena, while emphasizing patterns and variations that arise.

At the same time, when viewed from afar, your work presents an illusion of uniformity, but upon closer viewing, it’s usually anything but. There’s something very quantum about it. Can you discuss this?

The repetition of simple elements creates a seeming homogeneity that is disrupted upon closer inspection. The structure and motion of the installations often lead us to perceive patterns or familiar forms and movements that are not actually present. This phenomenon is called pareidolia—a psychological effect where people recognize familiar shapes in random patterns. It reflects the brain’s natural tendency to seek or even “invent” order and familiar structures within chaotic or unstructured stimuli. These seemingly uniform systems develop a wide range of possible behaviors through minimal variations.

What is your approach to the physical and auditory space where your installations are displayed? How do location and acoustics influence your work?

The architectural space always forms the starting point for a site-specific work. Its proportions, material properties, resonance characteristics, atmosphere, architectural qualities, and visual aesthetics all influence the final piece and become an integral part of it.

Particularly significant is the sound of the space: its reflections, specific acoustic properties, and sound behavior. The space itself completes the overall sound of an installation. Only once the installation is finished can the full extent of its resonance characteristics be explored and understood in all its complexity—always an exciting moment in the creation process.

The physical space strongly influences the acoustic space and behaves differently at various positions within the room. As a result, the created soundscape changes depending on the visitor’s location.

Many of your works seem to bridge the gap between sculpture, sound art, and installation art. Do you see yourself aligned with one particular discipline, or do you intentionally blur those boundaries?

For me, categorizations are not that interesting and therefore hold no importance. The works are simply what they are, and they can be viewed from different perspectives.

Your works often explore the intersection of technology and nature. How do you see this relationship evolving in the future, both in art and society?

This is a fascinating topic, and we are at an intriguing point in human history. It is particularly interesting because the future could take vastly different directions. The rapid pace of development makes it nearly impossible to predict where this journey will lead. While there is great potential, significant risks and troubling global circumstances persist.

If technology can help bring us closer to nature—and thus to ourselves and one another—that would certainly hold great promise. However, everything always seems to center around the short-term financial profit of a few and the accompanying selfishness. Humanity has never been characterized by longterm thinking or holistic action, but rather driven by greed and fear.

Unfortunately, this leaves me not really optimistic.

ALL IMAGE CREDITS: Zimoun