Mid-itation

Letao Chen is a young filmmaker based in London whose work delves into themes of female experience, media critique, childlike wonder, and self-reflection. Her practice is deeply influenced by metamodernism, which informs her exploration of the conflicting truths of contemporary life.

In her latest work, Mid-itation, Letao examines processes of algorithmically driven identity formation in an autobiographical short film. The piece creatively reimagines the format, language, and tropes of guided meditation, using them to investigate self-representation and the alignment with digital doubles. Mid-itation serves as a (mis)guided meditation—a spoof on self-help guides that juxtaposes profound emotional experiences with superficial tactics of “onliness.” Infused with internet lingo, the video grapples with a question undoubtedly rooted in the zeitgeist: What does it mean to be spiritual in an age of extremes?

The full video is part of the SHOWstudio 2024 film showcase and can be watched here. It was featured in October at the International Body of Art London, an exhibition located in an abandoned one-story car garage nestled in front of apartment complexes. Wet concrete and pink yoga mats: the bareness of the room was met with the softness of the installation, inviting the audience to find comfort in its deliberate coldness. An unconventional cinema where visible dirt and debris resisted aiding the viewer in “shifting into a comfortable position,” as instructed by the film’s narration.

Marta Ceccarelli: The video takes inspiration from meditation practices but subverts their language. How does your interpretation differ from traditional meditation?

Letao Chen: At first, meditation evolved within slower-paced lifestyles where it often held a central role, intertwined with religious and philosophical traditions from Hinduism and Buddhism. In contrast, modern meditation is adapted to the demands of our fast-paced, tech-heavy world. It can be stripped of its cultural roots, repackaged in bite-sized, easily consumable forms—YouTube videos, podcasts, or apps. It’s more about fitting meditation into our lives, rather than our lives revolving around it. Like a quick fix to ground ourselves outside of working a nine-to-five.

Instead of an escape from the hypermodern, Mid-itation aimed to explore the embrace of both realities—the digital and the physical. We often strive for a clean separation between the two, but that kind of divide feels increasingly impossible. Rather than advocating for a social media cleanse, I wanted to explore how we accept and validate the feelings in-between.

Instead of disconnecting from online language, the video immerses you in it, using references and dialect typical of mainstream Internet culture. What would the opposite of this look like? What would a meditation aimed at returning to non-Internet life need to convey?

If I was guiding a meditation to soften our severance from the internet, if it had to be the last piece of digital content everyone would consume, it would be nice to be reminded that the solutions to our modern struggles often lie in the past. I’d reference films like Perfect Days, which makes you so aware of the great values in life, the riveting beauty in what is considered monotonous life—a feeling we have lost tolerance for.

There is a certain sadness associated with deep engagement with the Internet. What do you think is lost when we immerse ourselves in digital dialects and communities? If there is hope in this space, where would it lie?

As a Chinese first-generation immigrant growing up in a predominantly white suburb, I often felt compelled to prove my stereotype wrong in order to be seen as a human being. People of color are not born with a blank slate, our identities begin caged without the option of normality.

Especially for marginalized individuals or those who feel isolated in their physical environments, the internet can offer a way of forming new facets of identity that is stifled elsewhere. I rebelled hard, which had influence on sneaking out in the middle of the night to photograph my friends climbing cranes and exploring abandoned factories. Social media gave me control over the image of who I could become.

Although, when there is no backstage to return to and no end to a performance, hyper curated identities can never reflect who we are in offline contexts. This detachment then causes us to feel simultaneously hyper-connected yet more isolated, as deeper, face-to-face interactions are replaced by brief, fragmented interactions. Meaningful relationships typically need more space and time to grow.

Looking back at high school days, I frequently DMed loads of photographers on Instagram to go explore and just make work together. Now, I find it silly because it’s exactly the same today– ask for a coffee with your IG mutuals, ask for advice from your favorite artists, show up to galleries, and support your friends. Finding these ways to translate digital into physical is very very important.

I believe the issues arise when digital connections are trapped in the screen, unable to materialize and trying to substitute for offline ones. The brain confuses the iPhone frame for the body. 

There’s a huge cultural difference between me and my family for them to understand my work fully, and there weren’t many connections for me growing up. Though I am SO lucky for my mother to support me through both Emerson College and Central Saint Martins. Without the internet, I would not have the audience, the space, and the opportunities I have today.

As long as we use the internet to galvanize and create movements, turned into more meaningful connections, there is always hope. The internet can expand the scope of our relational dynamics, but we have to balance these new forms of connection without losing the depth and authenticity of offline relationships.

In your exploration of meditation, you’ve mentioned the boundaries between the physical self—specifically, the seam between flesh and water (in a pond). Traditional meditation practices invite awareness of the surfaces we rest on, the air on our skin, and so on. What surfaces should we pay attention to in the digital realm? What are the points of contact between the container of Internet identity and the environment of current digital culture?

When water is body temperature, the seam between flesh and water becomes nearly imperceptible, forcing you to heighten your senses harder to sense where your body ends and the water begins. In the digital realm, the “water” is the online space, and your “body” is your brain—floating, adapting, and navigating the digital world. The points of contact are how we think and organize ourselves on safari, hinge, google maps, letterbox, etc.

To go further…

Current digital culture as the “water”, online identity as the “body”…

Online identity is synonymous with aesthetics. Aesthetic is contained, mood boarded, can be analyzed, made into a think-piece, picked apart to be a cause of current digital culture and eventually a trend—- an accusation we want far away from our authentic selves. We want to fit in without being fully digestible and categorized.

Because individuality is so sacred, many people struggle to admit that their personal fashion reflects broader societal attitudes. They are concerned with “nicheness” even more than the values of that given niche, to feel better than everyone else because “no one gets it”. It’s not very tasteful to walk around thinking you’re the epitome of taste.

This is why anti-aesthetic has become so attractive—it’s an attempt to reject that containment. But even anti-aesthetic is still an aesthetic, bound to the same fate of being dissected and commodified. Digital culture impacts everyone, especially how we engage with and present ourselves online.

The point of contact is a critical perspective on what we consume in order to weed out personal meaning from those objects of consumption. The seam here is really undetectable. In my experience, identity takes a lot of critical thinking to construct.

I propose: Omni-aesthetic, an embrace of a bit of everything. Centering the functionality in the life we are living and the fashions we can afford around that. Life feels more complex than a singular code. I think you will hurt yourself trying to conform, although I actually appreciate this way of life too, centered around the visual.

If “identity proclaims itself holy,” identity actively asserts its presence and becomes central to our daily lives, both online and offline. Given that existence is defined through observation, can we truly comprehend our identities without considering the relational dynamics we have with others? How do our emotional exchanges—such as embarrassment, love, joy, and shame—inform our understanding of identity? In what ways does the Internet disrupt these relationships, and how might this interdependence challenge the idea of identity as sacred or autonomous?

If personality is created to fit in with others, who would you be if you were always alone?

Our relationships with others often reveal our deepest insecurities, as everyone acts as a mirror to our true selves. I am judging you because I am judging myself. The qualities we avoid in others often reflect the very things we resist within ourselves.

In Western culture, and particularly in the digital age with the constant surveillance of ourselves, identity is taught to feel personal and sacred. However, our interdependence with others shows that identity is not purely autonomous—it is co-created and relational. Who we are is constantly negotiated through our interactions with others, making identity a dynamic, shared phenomenon rather than something wholly individual or inviolable.

We cannot fully separate ourselves from the influence of the social systems we live within, as they shape how we perceive and express ourselves. Algorithms, social media, and global connectivity have turned identity into something that is co-created in real-time. Our digital interactions continuously shape and reshape who we are, driven by feedback loops of likes, comments, and social validation. The internet disrupts our emotional exchanges and, by extension, our understanding of identity by constantly exposing us to external judgments, comparisons, and curated versions of other people’s lives.

This disruption blurs the lines between our inner sense of self and the external pressures to perform, conform, and STAND OUT. Instagram is LinkedIn for creative people.

With relentless feedback and constant visibility, the idea of a stable, personal identity becomes diluted to its extreme. Our sense of self is in a state of perpetual flux, shaped by the responses of others and the mediums themselves. As a result, the autonomy and sanctity of identity become fragile, subject to collective opinion and the mechanics of online spaces, forcing us to continually reinvent ourselves in response to these shifting pressures.