In the browser you already have, on the phone in your pocket. Nothing to install. You sign in once with your email, a code and no password. Add it to the home screen and after that it keeps working with the network switched off.
A free instrument that runs in the browser you already have. Give it your voice, a camera, the way you move, a controller or a plant on a cable: it answers in sound and in light. There is nothing to install. You sign in once with your email, and what you play never leaves your device.
Pick one. It opens the console with that source already set up, and play is the only thing left to press.
Savia began as a way to hear a plant. It is bigger than that now. The console is the instrument, and a plant is one of the things that can drive it, next to a voice, a lens, a controller, a phone in a pocket and a pattern you draw yourself. What all of them have in common: none of them is a recording. It is reading something that is happening in the room, now.
In the browser you already have, on the phone in your pocket. Nothing to install. You sign in once with your email, a code and no password. Add it to the home screen and after that it keeps working with the network switched off.
Sound and light, from one measurement. A synth, an effects rack and a four-track looper on one side. On the other the screen answers the same notes, so the phone in your hand becomes the lamp in the room.
Nowhere. Every reading is made on your device and stays there. The console makes no network call after it loads, with one exception it tells you about: the karaoke tab has to ask the internet what song is playing.
Six performers at once, MIDI in and out, a screen you can send to a projector, and a session log you can take with you. Free, MIT licensed, and it does not ask who you are.
A current is only a number until somebody decides what it means. Drag, move, and listen: each of these turns one kind of change into sound, and every one of them is a choice that could have been made differently. Nothing is recorded and nothing leaves the tab.
One number that rises and falls, which is what every one of these sources comes down to in the end. Drag it and hear the pitch follow.
The same engine, driven by how fast you move instead. On a phone it reads the accelerometer; on a laptop it reads the pointer. Move slowly and it stays low.
Hold the pad. Here that is capacitance in a screen; on a Savia unit it is your hand closing the circuit. The same gesture either way.
Every one of these is a choice, not a measurement. Much of what people hear as the character of a species is that choice, and most instruments do not admit it. Change the mapping in the console →
This is the console's light, running right here. Press play and a short piece of music starts: every note it hears takes its own colour, every hit lands on the picture, and the scene you pick draws it. Or turn on your microphone and it follows you instead. The picture is never a video: it is drawn from the sound as it plays.
Light · idle
The microphone is optional. It stays in this tab and is never recorded.
C is green. Take the note's own frequency and double it until it lands in visible light: middle C at 261.626 Hz, doubled 41 times, is 575 THz, which is 521 nm, which is green. The twelve climb from there through blue-green and blue to violet at E, run off the top of what an eye can see, and come back at F as the deepest red it still registers. The octave is the lightness: a higher C is a lighter green, a lower C a darker one, and the same for every colour. We chose the rule. The rule chose the colours.
Pick cymatics and you are looking at a Chladni plate: sand on a vibrating plate gathers on the lines that stand still, and every frequency has its own figure. The note's real frequency (A4 = 440 Hz) chooses the figure, so a higher note is always a finer one. Pick forms and each sound takes the shape people tend to draw for it: high is thin and pointed, low is round and heavy, a hit is a burst, a held note is a ribbon.
Nothing here pulses to a clock. The light listens to the sound itself on every frame, and a pulse is a hit that happened: a kick, a clap, a consonant. In silence the picture slows down and waits for the next sound.
This is a visualisation, not a measurement. It draws what the sound is doing and says nothing on its own about a plant or a body. The Chladni figures are the standing waves of a square plate, solved per pixel. It does not move under prefers-reduced-motion unless you started it yourself, and it stops when it scrolls out of view.
Step by Steph is a multidisciplinary artist and creative technologist whose work is permanently archived on the Moon through the Lunaprise Museum. With Savia Flow she performs live with plants: a garden on stage, each species wired to its own voice, and the set built in real time around what they play. The plant sets the tempo and the phrasing; she answers with harmony, texture, and rhythm. Nothing is pre-recorded from the plant side. Every set is a first take.
There is a physical Savia too. Two contacts, a circuit that turns a changing resistance into a pulse, and a board that hands that pulse to the console over the cable, over USB or over Bluetooth. It never asks what is between the contacts: a leaf, a mushroom, soil or your own forearm all close the circuit the same way, which is why the instrument crossed species before anybody asked it to.
We are still testing, so this page is not going to quote you a price, a build time or a parts list yet. The first units are being made by hand at the Commons Hub and the bill of materials is not frozen. When the numbers stop moving they go here. The files are open the whole time.
One contact, then another, and whatever sits between them closes the circuit. A timer turns that changing resistance into a heartbeat, faster when the sap moves and slower when it rests. A microcontroller maps the heartbeat to notes and sends them on. The living thing chooses the timing. You choose the instrument.
WHAT IT READS: water status · ion movement · light · temperature ·
touch · wounding.
WHAT IT DOES NOT READ: thoughts.
See the science →
Not everyone wants to solder. The first units are being made by hand at the Commons Hub, and the workshop leaves the skill behind rather than only the object.
A mesh that carries one node's reading to another valley over radio, with no internet in the middle, is the direction after this. Nothing of it is built, so nothing of it is described here yet.
The 1968 “plant perception” experiments did not replicate. Rigor is how nature keeps its voice credible.
Nobody has built the version of this that a garden can afford and a school can repair. We are looking for it in the open: every circuit, every dead end, every file, published as we go. That takes hands far more than it takes money.
The firmware is MIT, the hardware is CERN-OHL-S, and a recording belongs to whoever made it. None of that changes later.