Federica Zambeletti:

Hi there, and welcome to the second season of the Architectures of Planetary Well-Being podcast. The Architectures of Planetary Well-Being is a podcast exploring the interconnection of our social and ecological systems. Season two of the podcast is curated under the heading Between Us, presented by the re:arc Institute and KoozArch. Between Us is a series of intimate conversations shared between two critical practitioners operating across architecture, art, curation, illustration, design, and literature. Across generational and geographical space, their discussions will move through shared aspects of practice to reach infinitely larger and more pressing issues on and around the roles of cultural practice for planetary well-being. The conversations are intended to provoke still more responses and further discussions, from micro to macro, with and led by emerging and further underrepresented communities. The guests chosen for these conversations are innovative thinkers and practitioners who we believe remain committed to the critical reframing of their disciplines and their attendant discourse. These intimate yet wide-reaching exchanges aim to reflect the need for interdisciplinary conversation and unsiloed imagination in order to attempt the realization of a more just, caring, and restorative world.

Today we're going to hear from architect and artist Sabba Khan in conversation with the information designer Federica Fragapane. You'll also hear from me. My name is Federica Zambeletti. I'm the founding editor of KoozArch, and I joined Federica and Sabba for this exchange.

To introduce them both, Sabba Khan is a visual artist, architectural designer, and storyteller. Her work examines diasporic identities and how they're formed by the physical and nonphysical structures around us. Her work is personal and emotive, and designed to elicit relational empathy, understanding, and expansive ideas of a shared sense of humanity. In 2021, Sabba published the graphic novel, The Roles We Play.

Federica Fragapane is an independent information designer who specializes in creating projects and data visualizations as a freelancer. Many of her projects take an experimental approach, carefully selecting visual languages to encourage readers to engage with the narratives conveyed by the data. In 2023, three of her data visualizations were acquired by the Museum of Modern Art, or MoMA, in New York, becoming part of its permanent collection.

Both your practices engage with the process of storytelling, visualizing through either comics or data visualizations the intricacies of our present across geographies. What are your positions in relation to the term “global” versus “planetary?” Would you have other terms that encompass or describe your worldview? Sabba, would you like to start?

Sabba Khan:

Yeah. So, the global versus planetary, that's a big conversation, and in terms of the terminology, I think the way I see global is very anthropocentric—so, human-focused, humans are at the center, humans are the supreme being that gets to funnel resources, gets to dominate; if that's what “global” means, the opposite to that would be something that focuses more on humans letting go of that hierarchical structure, giving up that idea of the supreme race, the dominant race.

I really resonate to the term “deep ecology” as a way of framing this opposition to the anthropocentric way of looking at the world. It's ecology-focused, so it's about the systems, the natural systems, the natural orders—and the fact that we're a part of that. It also kind of forces humans to give up this capitalistic way of living that we've found ourselves in for the last 500 years, where it's all about economic growth, it's all about using resources as much as we can to keep that apex role. There's something in that that I think allows us to imagine expansive futures and move towards a liberation thinking, I think, which is exciting. I think “deep ecology,” that's the term that I'm going to hold onto when it comes to that global versus planetary.

Federica Fragapane:

That's such an interesting question, and also such an interesting answer, Sabba. And to me it's curious because those are not terms I use pretty often, I have to say, in my job. But also, when I talk about complex topics and complex issues, I'm more focused on the granularity, on the living parts—or in general living creatures—that are part of our planet. And it's a granularity that, from my perspective, doesn't exclude the interconnection between these parts—the interconnections, plural—among these different parts, among people's choices and events that involve people and living creatures in general. A term that I use pretty often actually is, it's rather like personal point of view—perspective, personal perspective—maybe then to talk about global subjects, and also intersectionality. Through my job, I have a tool, the data visualization tool that I can use, I use to describe part of a reality. And for me it's very important always to declare the fact that I'm doing it from a very specific perspective—the perspective of a woman who is currently living in Europe, in Italy, who has had the possibility of studying, of working independently, and who's using her own voice to talk about global topics often, global issues, but from a very specific perspective and a very specific point of view. So yes, it's curious, because even if I often talk about subjects that involve our planet, those are not terms that I use pretty often, because I'm more focused on the specific parts—living parts—of our planet.

SK:

Federica, I love that, because that really resonates with me, the specificity and the need to contextualize where you come from and what you're bringing to the table. And that's exactly what I do as well, so that's really exciting, and that's why I'm nodding in agreement with you. And going back to the idea of terms, I use the term “lived experience” a lot, embodied experience, lived experience. And actually, going back to the deep ecology, there is something about it still being quite human-centric, which is interesting. I think perhaps that's just where we're at currently in our global conversation. I think it's still very connected to us as individuals, I guess, and those of us who come from perhaps marginalized voices. And I think that's why for me it was also quite important to define my work as lived experience narrative, because it's coming from very much my specific background, which is working-class, South Asian, second-generation migrant. I've got all these categories to help frame my point of view.I think we're at this moment in time where we're still very much within the systems that define us, and the fact that both you and I feel like we need to identify where in that system we're located, I think, is a reflection of the fact that that does need to shift, and that needs to change for all of us, in terms of going to the idea of the planetary, the idea of moving away from the humans being the center of that.

FF:

I think we are in a time in which… For me, it's really a matter of intellectual honesty to declare—to being aware of—what is the perspective I'm talking from, and what this perspective is allowing me to see, because of course there are parts that I'm missing because I cannot see. I often talk about my work, data visualizations, as something similar to what a photographer does. I'm photographing parts of reality, and I'm selecting a specific angle, I'm selecting a specific camera, I'm selecting my own style to do it. And there is a body doing it. There is my body, my own body. And at this moment, I think it's very important to declare it.

In this moment I'm thinking about my field of data visualization, and this idea of data as neutral creatures, neutrality, total objectivity that is something that allows us to see the world as something completely objective. It's not my case, but it's not the case in general—because of course we are human, and our lenses are going to be there inevitably. And so yes, for me it's really a matter of being aware of my position and being intellectually honest with the people that I'm talking to, and the people I'm talking about—that it's something that it's super important to me too.

SK:

It's lovely to hear about your practice, the data visualization, and the fact that it's subjective, and how it's spoken about as being objective. It's like this data-gathering and it's number-crunching, and the way it's seen is very scientific, and very black-and-white and binary. And just the fact that you're like, “no, that doesn't exist, there's subjectivity in the questions that we ask and the topics that we look at.” Could you talk a little bit more about that? Because I'm fascinated about just the subjectivity of it—like, how subjective does it go?

FF:

Yeah, sure. There is a beautiful book which is called Data Feminism. There are now many books which talk about this subjectivity in data and data visualization, not only from a design perspective—in which of course the subjectivity is more evident—but behind the data-gathering process. So data are collected by people, and when they are collected by machines, by algorithms, there are inevitably people behind them. And so even if I... Of course, this is my job and I love doing it. I truly believe in the fact that it can be a very powerful tool to use from a communicative perspective, and also to help understanding topics, so I really believe there is a huge potential, but I believe that it's equally important to declare this human presence. And it's something that was excluded from the narrative around data visualization years ago. Now it's very present as a discourse, and this is very important, because I think... For instance, my readers, the readers who read my visualizations, my topics, deserve that kind of approach, that kind of intellectually honest approach, deserve to know that when I'm talking about a subject, I'm inevitably making choices, and I'm using data that have been collected by other people who inevitably had to make choices. So data can be incredibly helpful to help us understanding phenomena, and I truly believe in that, but we also have to be intellectually honest and to declare that there is always a human intervention. And again, it's a matter of awareness.

SK:

It's making me think of my own work, as well. So I'll talk a little bit about my work as well, so you've got a bit of a background. So I'm a visual artist that uses comics—so I use sequential art a lot—and my main book, my offering to the world, is my graphic novel, and it's called The Roles We Play. And I think what makes us a really interesting pairing is the fact that I use information and statistics, but I relate them to my lived experience—so my lived experience, but also my community's lived experience, so it's a sort of wider net, and it's making sense of some of those statistics and some of those binary notions of what it means to be a migrant, what it means to be working-class, what it means to be South Asian in the UK. A lot of those ideas around race, around class, reports that are written, articles that are written and talk about marginalized voices—the book for me came out of this need to unpack that, and I would read it, and it would very much feel like an othering, talking about these people, and these people happen to be my people, the people that I'm part of. And it was really this… Kind of relating this sense of knowledge, this outer knowledge, and this racialized knowledge I think, and then trying to make sense of that for myself, and looping in my lived experience, and asking whether that makes sense, and critiquing that, and destabilizing that, and doing that through visuals. And some of them are more infographics, some of them are quite diagrammatic, but some of it was storytelling as well—like using my memories to be like, “well, I had this experience in architecture school,” for example. I trained up as an architect and then I left. I used those tools to also combine with the storytelling, but using that to then try to critique some of that information that was being presented to me.

And this was all happening during the period of BLM, so George Floyd stuff had kicked off, Black Lives Matter had kicked off, and there was this whole conversation around internalized othering as well. And I think there was that reckoning for me—the idea of these external voices that talk about marginalized voices, what that means, but then how I relate to that as a person coming from a Muslim background, being female, and having gone through the education system in a very particular way. It was like a disrupture and a reckoning of this internalized othering for me, and then the book represents that; it takes you on that journey. And the way people have responded to it since it's come out—it's been out for a couple of years—it really invites people in to reflect for themselves as well, to ask those questions of themselves. Yeah, I feel like it's an invitation to... Almost like what you're doing with your practice, it's an invitation to question and critique and ask those bigger questions, but it kind of does it with me as the vessel to practice on—like look at how I'm unfolding and unpacking and unraveling myself, but then hoping that I will come back at the end. And I think that's the tension throughout the book.

FF:

Yeah. And what you do is so important, because you talk about an external view of your world, an external description, and also statistics and information, and statistics and information without personal stories. I think we need personal stories to be combined with a broader view that often is an external view, again, from someone who is not living the topic. I'm often not living the topics I'm talking about. Also, I worked on projects in which I invited the people who are the protagonists of the subject to talk about their experience. And this is why I really love how you talk about your memories as a source of contents and information. It's extremely precious, I think, and relevant, and important.

FZ:

I think what you mentioned, Sabba, of the engagement—so it's not a matter of putting something out there for the sake of it, but rather the kind of community that one manages to build through these projects. And on the one hand, there is the book for you, Sabba, but Federica, in a conversation that we have had, you also mentioned how you managed to engage, for example, with the diaspora in Iran when you started publishing those infographics. So in a certain sense, the project is a perspective, but then it serves as a ping board to then engage a larger conversation and to enable other voices to participate. So I wonder if, Federica, you could also talk a little bit about how something which had started as a kind of individual project then developed into an ongoing project because of the community that you were able to build.

FF:

The project that you're talking about is a project that I started working on in October 2022, when the protests following the death of Mahsa Amini started in Iran. So I was following at the time, what was happening in Iran—I was very interested, I was so impressed by the bravery of these women, these people who were protesting in the streets in Iran. I didn't know if it was the case of doing something about it; I was just reading a lot of news and articles about what was happening there. And then one day I saw a series of Instagram stories posted by a colleague, a designer, Maral Pourkazemi. She's Iranian and she’s in Germany. Through her Instagram stories, she was asking us—basically the people outside Iran—to use their tool to talk about what was happening there, whatever our tools were, and to help keeping a light on what was currently happening there, because it was important also for the people in Iran to know that the topic was something relevant in the West for instance, Europe for instance.

So immediately after seeing her story—I perfectly remember that morning—I started designing something, and actually it was an image that I had in my mind. So it took just a couple of hours to design it, and it was a braid in which one hair represented the number of protesters who were killed at the moment. And the braid—because I was seeing, as an act of protest, all these women cutting their own hair, and their own braids. So, I had this image in mind. It was an image that was obsessing me, and so this is why, for me, it was very quick to use my tools again to visualize numbers, and to use these visual metaphors, because it was an image that I was very moved by and impressed by. So at the time, the number of protestors was 133, so I designed this image recording a braid in which there was 133 hairs, one for each single individual killed. And then I posted on Instagram. So I didn't actually have a plan; I just wanted to do something about it, inspired by my colleague. And when I posted it, I was extremely moved and overwhelmed by the response, because it was shared a lot, so much—I wasn't expecting it to be shared so much—and I wasn't expecting to receive so many comments and direct messages from part of the Iranian diaspora. And people started asking me to keep on working on this project, to keep on doing it.

So I didn't plan anything. I didn't plan it as a periodically updated project. But this is what it became. And it became a periodically updated project because I really consider it as a participatory project, because people ask me to keep on working on it. So it's their idea; it's not my idea to periodically update this image. And so I did it for months. I mean, I actually, unfortunately, posted the latest one just a few weeks ago, because of two executions connected to the protests happening in Iran very recently. There was this very strong connection for me with the people from the Iranian diaspora, because then during the months I used to recognize them from their small profile pictures there, re-sharing my posts every time, every week. I used to do weekly updated visualizations, because of course, dramatically, the number of people killed was increasing and increasing over the weeks and the months. And so, it's like there was this sort of community of people who consistently re-shared my visuals every week, and it's something that I will never forget. It was definitely a new experience for me, because I usually don't design specifically for social media, for instance, for projects to be re-shared. But then I started doing it, because I understood that this is one of the other potential of data visualizations, as a tool to give to other people, to talk about subjects that matter to them. Those kinds of connection with these people are connections that I will never forget.

FZ:

There's obviously also a lot going on now with what is happening in Palestine, and there is going to the streets, which is one form of activism and one form of active protest. Then there is, of course, taking to social media, which is another. So I think it's interesting and important that these images and these voices are somehow catalyzed and exist, both within kind of a digital space, and then of course in the physical space, to put pressure on our governments to act, and not simply stay silent, as unfortunately is happening in so many cases. In this sense, I was also very much interested... So, if I somehow link it a little bit back to how we founded KoozArch—obviously KoozArch started as a platform which looked to representation, really, as a means of creating a language which was legible. Drawings are legible and are open for interpretation. It's a language which defies translations. So, I wanted to understand in your relative practices, considering that you work with different forms of visualizations, how do you approach the act of drawing as a form of language in and of itself, which transcends nationalities—but rather is an open invite for interpretation?

SK:

My work is very visual and sequential, so I build whole worlds with my visuals for people to enter. So I think for me, I absolutely love graphic novels. I love comics as a medium. I think as an artist, I like to see it as using two different parts of your mind as a reader. So, I'm asking you both to read the text—so use your linguistic mind, but then also your creative, imaginary, artistic mind, where you're then having to read the drawing. And often the drawings are not a visual translation of the words. They are saying two slightly different things. They are adding depth and adding layering. And so by inviting you in as the reader to this combination, I'm asking people to bring themselves to the mix. I'm asking them to interpret, what am I saying? But then, what am I also showing?

I think the best way that I can describe this—it's in my book. There's a moment where... It's really quite a big, heavy moment, and it's almost in the center of the book, so there's a big lead-up to it and then there's a big aftermath after it as well. And it's the moment where, in my mid-twenties, I end up taking my hijab off. I’m saying it here, and as I say it I'm getting a bit emotional, because I'm like, “I never want to talk about it like that,” because it's such a rupture, and it's so loaded, I think—it's such a sacrilegious thing, it's such a symbolic thing. And I think to this day, I can't really put words to it, so I just showed it. I just showed—not the actual act of de-veiling, but I ended up becoming a lot more symbolic about it, so it was suggested in the pages. And in suggesting it, and in just keeping it on the edges, it stays something that's protected and private for me, and I don't have to put words to it. I don't have to tell you exactly what was going on, but I can allude to it. And you, as the reader, if you're someone who's had a similar experience, you'll really relate to that, because you're bringing yourself to that. You're piecing the puzzles of what I'm giving you. And if you haven't experienced that directly, that's okay, because you also get a sense of it. You're like, okay, I kind of understand what this person's saying, but I'll move on, and maybe you won't get the gravity of it. And I think in that combination, and inviting the person in, I had such a range of different people responding to it in different ways. It allowed people to step into that, and it made it accessible. It made it expansive for it. I truly think that that is because it was the combination of these visuals and words, both not doing the same thing, doing their own little thing, and then this third space where they overlap.

FF:

I find that there are many common points from how you describe your practice and how I describe it. For instance, I love the word “invitation” that you use, because it's a word I use pretty often, because for me also my pieces are an invitation to the reader. And talking about words, and how you use visual elements and written words, and you combine them—for me it's also very important too. So I wrote a piece on Medium all about this, which is called “Alive, Political Visual Words” in which I talk about the way I use written words—text—and visual words, what I called my visual representations, to create narratives.

And for me, the aesthetics of my visual words is extremely important. I often use soft, organic shapes as an invitation to the readers. It's really part of the communication process, an invitation for the readers to look at my visuals—also to be attracted from my visuals at a first glance—and then to start reading what they’re actually talking about, to start reading the information and all the contents and the data that I am showing, visualizing, and communicating. And combining the shape of my visual words with text is essential, because I really want… Text are the bridge that allows me to create a connection with the readers, because of course data visualization is not a common visual language.

FZ:

Sabba, I would like to maybe go back to The Roles We Play, because the book is written in English, and then it features a full glossary of terms that capture Pothwari, Urdu, and Arabic words and phrases at the very end. I mean, in recalling your memories, in rebuilding that journey, did you ever have the problem that you were missing the words—the words didn't exist in English?

SK:

Yes, and I would just say them in Pothwari. So there's certain moments, interactions between me and my mom, I wouldn't even think about translating it. I'd be like, “this is what she would say, I'm not even going to go down that road of trying to find an English equivalent because I'm trying to reach out to the reader.” I'd rather honor where she is. And I think it's challenging that internalized othering I spoke about earlier. For me, it was about celebrating and embracing the nuances, the complexities of our language. It's such a loaded thing for me, because coming from the concentric layers of working class-ness and South Asian migration... Just a bit of context. So my family come from Azad Kashmir, and Pothwari is a dialect that's spoken in Azad Kashmir. Azad Kashmir is currently administered by Pakistan, so wider Pakistanis will want... There's a push to assimilate and bring in these Kashmiris that are on the northern part of Pakistan. And so whenever we'd meet Pakistanis across the community, we would switch into Urdu. So Pothwari became a private language, it became this thing that we only spoke within the family, and when we spoke to other people—the public face of being wider Pakistani—we'd speak Urdu. And then obviously that was then hidden. The moment you'd see someone speaking English, you'd shift into English. So there was all this code-switching and layers of othering. That's the only way that I can describe it.

And so, allowing myself to depict my mom, and to depict my communication with her in Pothwari, was such a liberating thing, and it was a revolutionary thing for me. And to then not to translate it... So, there's a glossary of terms at the end of the book, and that was really just an appeasement. I didn't have to put that in, to be fair. The editors were like, "Maybe we should... You know, for anyone who wants to know what these words are, maybe there's a way for them to reach out and understand." But often, they'll be italicized, or there'll be asterisks and they'll be put on the page at the end, so you can immediately get this translation—or you just translate it, you put it in brackets. There's lots of different ways to negotiate it, but I wanted it to feel part and parcel of this mixture. And also, it doesn't disrupt... You know, going back to the layering way of storytelling, you don't have to read all the words. You can just get a sense of it. And throughout the book, what I was conveying was a sense of what it means to be a diaspora, a sense of that confusion, a sense of that layering that's going on. Yeah, I think even with Arabic, there's a page where I'm lying with my partner, and I'm reading this entire prayer, and it's quite long, and I was just like, “I want my readers to sit down and read this.” So I alliterated the Arabic.

The whole negotiation of whether it should be Arabic text... The actual Qur’anic texts are seen as sacred, so the moment you put them on a page, the book becomes an extension of the Qur'an, almost, so you don't want to be dropping it on the floor, you want to be treating it with respect. So I didn't want to introduce the scripture, the Arabic scripture, into the body of the book. I didn't want to further do sacrilegious stuff. And so I ended up transliterating—so, using the English words to emulate the sounds of the Arabic prayer. And I just imagined all these people that have not really ever had the opportunity to connect to Islam in this way, to then be following these words and this text and, in their own mishmash way, to be reading this prayer, that I've been brought up reading to protect myself in that image—and praying it over my partner who's atheist, and he doesn't know it, so I want to protect him. So there's this layering of religion, non-religion, secular, an invitation to the divine, and it's really messing around with language. And just to add to the further layering of that is, being South Asian, I only learnt to read Arabic, so I don't actually understand Arabic. So I'd read the prayers, and the focus of it was just the sounds and the way it would feel in my mouth, and that familiarity—rather than actually understanding what I was saying. And so it was a further invitation to come to where I was positioned and how I related to these words. So there was lots of that sort of negotiation, and just trying to be playful with it, and trying to embrace it, and trying to be like, “well, this is my reality, this is how I relate to this text, and let's invite other people to do that as well.”

FZ:

It's such a layered book. When I was reading it, I realized, I was like, I do not believe I have ever read or looked at something so beautifully complex—but yet at times also so simple, because it's very generous in its explanation. So it has so many layers, but it allows for simplicity in approaching them, also for a person who comes from a very different cultural background. And also the songs that are embedded in it somehow really allow one to transport themselves and enter from a different perspective. One thing is, when you're reading it, let's say in a silent mode, and then another one is when you're reading it and listening to the music—that adds an entirely different layer.

And as a last concluding question to the both of you, I wanted to ask and inquire, in regards to the kind of the dialogues or resonances that you would hope to see growing in future generations, or that you would leave behind with your own practices—considering that we use language, we use drawings to build new imaginaries—what are these imaginaries that you seek to leave behind, or to leave as little granular crumbs, granular in the smallest but also largest sense of the word?

FF:

Yeah. So for me, working in a field in which for many years there was this idea that there is just one good way to do things, so what I would like to leave to other young people: Please start from your own voice, because your own voice is important, and not let somebody else to define for you what is the only good way to do things. Because this is something that… It has been imposed, for instance, for me as a woman. Like, I'm thinking about school, I'm thinking about university—not from my family, because I'm very lucky from that point of view; I live in Italy, so I am pretty aware of all my privileges—but I'm thinking about university, for instance. I used to think that because of how, at university—studying graphic design history for instance, or art history—at university, I used to think that the only good designers were male designers, and that my male colleagues, my male companionships, my male friends were the best designers. And it's something that I have implanted in my head—not because somebody actively told me, because if you only study other male designers, other male artists, then somebody starts growing in you, in your mind. So no, there is not just one good way to do things. Please use your own approach. Use your own voice. Please, let's declare our point of view. Let's be aware of our privileges, of our perspectives. Let's use them. Let's use our privilege and our awareness of it to talk about subjects that matter. Please do not stay silent. And not everybody can allow us to talk, I know… Can have, again, this privilege of being able to express your opinion, but if you can, please do it.

The thing that you were saying, Federica, about being physically active, it's so important—like manifesting, protesting physically—but also social media. I started to learn that, also, small gestures can be very relevant, to help people understanding that they are not alone in their own views, and that they can express them. And expressing your own view can really be a way to make pressure to who's deciding, because they have to feel this pressure, no? So it's a really broad discourse, but those aspects are really relevant to me. Let's declare our point of view, let's use our privileges, and let's use our own voices, and let's not other people decide if our voice is valid or not.

SK:

That's really beautiful, Federica. Thank you. And I think I want to support that. I think the legacy of my practice that I want to leave behind for future generations is an extension of that. I think when it comes to using your particular experiences, your particular vantage point, that's almost the beginning of it. I feel like that's the starting point as a creative, and then it's about pushing beyond yourself and connecting to the wider systems and the wider structures that we're sat within. And I think that's what you're talking about in terms of our privileges as well, and the baggage that we hold, what we come with, what we can see, but also what we can't see in our very particular points of view.

And I think ultimately, I think as artists and people part of the cultural Western world, we are incredibly privileged. And I think it's down to us to really interrogate the hierarchies that we benefit from. And that's not just us within our sector, but it's the entire Western framework—I mean, I say Western, but I mean capitalist framework. Because I think in order for us to move towards systems change, and to move towards the planetary—where we started off from at the beginning—we've got to let go of those privileges, and we've got to imagine alternatives where it's a lot more shared, it's a lot more aligned with a balance, with nature, and with biology, and with all the other things that we don't consider right now. And in order to do that, we need to let go of those privileges. I think we need to lean into that as people. I think that's what I try to do, but sometimes I'm also scared. I think it’s… You know, we all love the fact that we can get bananas in winter and strawberries in winter and things like that. There's so many things that we don't even put our fingers on and we don't identify as, “this is wealth that I am consuming because of someone else's devastation and loss and exploitation somewhere else in the world. They're not getting bananas ever, and I get to eat these bananas.” It's letting go of that, I think, as a people, and I hope we can get there. I believe that we can get there. And I think we just need to move towards it slowly as individuals, as little microorganisms—and then collectively, and then eventually, the idea of change will be more possible.

FZ:

Going back to the beginning, to putting a finger and revealing those global systems and shifting towards a more planetary—or I mean whatever term, let's say, embraces a less anthropocentric perspective, one which is more collective as humans, but also collective in relation to non-humans. And in this sense, I really wanted to thank the both of you, because it has indeed been a wonderful conversation. We thank you so much for trusting us with your voices for this episode and are very curious to see what your voices will shape in the future, and the kind of tools that you will explore in shaping these futures. So, Sabba and Federica, thank you so much.

FF:

Thank you so much. It was such a pleasure.

FZ:

Alright. We hope you enjoyed that beautiful exchange between architect and artist Sabba Khan and independent information designer Federica Fragapane. Of course, you can find more information on both speakers and the rest of the series in the show notes, on the re:arc institute website, and on the digital platform KoozArch. All episodes of the podcast, all equally insightful, can be found through Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to yours. I'm Federica Zambeletti. This was Informalizing Information of Between Us, the second season of the Architectures of Planetary Well-Being podcast. Thank you so much for joining us, and stay well, happy, soft, and strong.

Cover featuring artwork by Federica Fragapane (left) & Sabba Khan (right)