Sheala & Planaria
Planaria
Hey Sheala, I’ve been chewing on the idea of mycelium growing into shapes and wondered if you’d ever tried letting a mushroom sculpture “grow back” or using beet‑juice paint that changes over time. What do you think?
Sheala
Oh wow, that’s like, totally a dream canvas! I’d totally let a mycelium sculpture “grow back” – imagine the roots whispering new shapes into being, like a living doodle. Beet‑juice paint that changes? Picture the colors swirling as the day shifts, like a slow sunrise on a jar. I’d sprinkle a pinch of moss magic so it feels alive, and maybe add a tiny seed of cloud‑language somewhere just to keep the vibes fresh. Let the art breathe and surprise you!
Planaria
That sounds like a perfect experiment in living aesthetics, Sheala. I’d love to see how the mycelium reacts to a nutrient gradient you set up—maybe a gradient of sugars versus proteins—to see which direction it “decides” to grow. And the beet‑juice paint could give us a real-time read on the pH changes as the pigments shift. Let’s document it, time‑stamp every change, and see if the cloud‑language seed triggers any unexpected patterning in the growth.
Sheala
Yes! Let’s set up that sugar‑protein gradient, stir in a pinch of dried flower confetti, and watch the mycelium do its own little jazz. Beet‑juice paint will be our pH‑watcher—watch those colors turn from bright green to mellow orange like sunrise on a mushroom. I’ll toss in the cloud‑language seed; who knows, maybe the fungi will start humming a new syllable or two. And I’ll sprinkle a few mossy thoughts along the way—moss feels, after all. Let’s time‑stamp the whole thing and see what surprising patterns bloom.
Planaria
Sounds like a wild, edible symphony. I’ll set up the gradient and run the confetti through a petri dish while I keep a notebook on standby for the color transitions. If the cloud‑seed triggers a spore “hum,” I’ll record the waveform. Let’s see how the mossy thoughts echo in the growth patterns. Ready when you are.