“Our need to belong is like our need for water.”

Kelly-Ann Allen, The Psychology of Belonging (2020)

Belonging is the felt sense of being accepted, included, understood, welcomed, liked and appreciated.

Psychology describes it as “a pervasive drive to form and maintain at least a minimum quantity of lasting, positive, and significant interpersonal relationships” (Baumeister & Leary, 1995). But reading the research as artists, what struck us was how much belonging depends on things a space can hold: small rituals, shared attention, the texture of a room, the warmth of light, the chance to be heard.

That makes it a subject for art as much as for science.

Five facets

What we mean when we say belonging

  1. 01

    A fundamental human need

    Belonging is a universal, evolutionarily rooted drive to form and keep meaningful connections. In Maslow’s hierarchy, it comes right after food, water and safety. It is felt as being accepted, valued and understood.

    Baumeister & Leary, 1995; Allen, 2020

  2. 02

    A process, not a state

    Belonging is never fixed. It flickers, depends on context, and is renegotiated all the time. It is shaped by autonomy, choice and commitment, so it can’t be imposed.

    Allen, 2020

  3. 03

    Built in small acts

    Sharing a thought or a memory, listening, affirming, moving in time with someone. And reframing shared struggles as normal, so that difficulty doesn’t read as proof that you don’t fit in.

    Walton & Cohen, 2011

  4. 04

    Quality over quantity

    What matters is frequent, warm, stable contact within real mutual care. Going from no close relationships to two changes everything; going from twenty to twenty-two changes very little.

    Baumeister & Leary, 1995

  5. 05

    Embodied and placed

    Belonging lives in the body and attaches to places, objects, sounds, smells and textures. Think of a place where you belong and every sense comes back at once.

    Allen, 2020

Beyond people

Interbeing: there is a cloud in your tea

Thich Nhat Hanh often pointed to a cup of tea and saw a cloud in it. The cloud has not died: it became rain, then a river, then this tea. Nothing is only itself. It inter-is with everything that made it possible.

Where belonging is warm, social and fragile, interbeing is quiet and continuous. It never really goes away. Our project lives between the two. It invites people to feel connected to each other, and also to something larger that was here before them and will continue after: weather, water, sky.

Belonging in ourselves, with others, and with our environment are always connected. In this work, we lean towards the environment, and let the others follow.

See how the installation puts this into practice

Where mindfulness meets belonging

Practices that make room for each other

Our project began in contemplative practice. The literature suggests that some of its most powerful effects are social.

Practising together

Compared with meditating alone, studies of group practice report a deeper experience that is easier to sustain. It is also linked with more care for others, empathy and co-regulation of mood.

Sharing afterwards

A sharing round after a practice normalises experience. People discover that what they felt was not theirs alone, and they are listened to without judgement.

Fagioli et al., 2023; Wyatt et al., 2014

Listening in pairs

Contemplative dyads — one speaks, one listens, then swap — increased perceived social connectedness over months of training.

Kok & Singer, 2017

Why art, why research-creation

Belonging can’t be streamed

You can read about belonging, but you can’t download it. It happens between bodies in a shared place and a shared time. That is exactly what installations, rituals and performances are good at: they gather people, suspend ordinary rules for a while, and give attention something to rest on together.

Research-creation lets us do both at once. We make something, invite people into it, and listen carefully to what they experience: through questionnaires, physiology and, above all, their own words. The artwork becomes a way of asking a question, and the question keeps reshaping the artwork.

We think belonging deserves far more attention from artists and researchers, especially now, when so many people feel alone in crowded places.

An example of belonging

Belonging to nature, built into a room

Belonging to ourselves, to each other and to nature are always connected. Cloudfulness leans towards nature: a shared sky, weather and water, something larger that was here before us and will continue after.

We started from what the research says belonging is, and turned each quality into a design choice. See the installation →

Belonging is embodied and anchored
A multisensory space. You take off your shoes and lie down beneath the cloud, among soft fabric, warm light and a glass of tea.
Belonging is a journey
An evolving score. Dusk, a magical twilight, then breath synchrony: the experience moves, and you move with it.
Belonging is dynamic
Biofeedback. A sensor follows your breathing, and the cloud’s light rises and settles with it. You breathe with the cloud rather than control it.
Belonging depends on the quality of connections
A shared experience. One sky over everyone in the room, with nobody in a better seat.

Why a cloud

Something we all live under

It is above everyone

Nobody has a better seat. A cloud offers a shared perspective without a stage.

It gives light a body

A cloud is a volume for light to live in — glowing, flashing, catching the sun.

It is always changing

Clouds are impermanence made visible. They form, drift, rain and form again.

It is water, and so are we

The water cycle is continuity and unity: the same water in vapour, rain, river, tea, and us.

It follows you home

Everyone sees clouds. We hope the next one you see brings a little of this back.

It is forgiving

Dim, diffuse light feels primal and hides the imperfections of whatever room we are in.

Looking up from the floor at the fibre cloud glowing warm white, hanging from the ceiling in a dark room.
Looking up at the pilot cloud, 29 July 2026.

The score

From dusk to a cloud that breathes with you

The installation unfolds in three stages. The magical twilight turns the experience into a story and builds intensity, so that by the time the cloud begins to breathe with you, you already feel bound to it.

  1. Before

    Arrival

    Shoes off, lying down beneath a cloud in warm golden light, before anything begins.

  2. I

    Dusk

    Sunset as a threshold · Lightning begins

  3. II

    Magical twilight

    A narrative turn · Colour blooms · Bonding with the cloud

  4. III

    Breath synchrony

    Driven by your respiration · Breathing with, not controlling

How we reasoned

Why it is the way it is

Every element of the installation answers a question about belonging. These are the decisions we made, and our reasons for them.

Breath as the interface
Breath is both voluntary and involuntary, and everyone has it. Breathing in rhythm with something is one of the simplest forms of co-regulation. It also builds on what Zéphir learned from Réespiration.
Breathing with the cloud, not controlling it
We want people to feel that they belong with the cloud, not that they are in charge of it. Its light follows the rise and fall of your respiration, like a companion keeping time with you, rather than obeying commands.
Lightning at dusk
People arrive carrying their day. As the sun sets, the first lightning pulls attention into the room and towards weather: nature as vast, a little wild, and very present.
A magical twilight before the breath
The twilight turns the experience into a story. As its light intensifies and colours flare up through the whole cloud at once, the cloud gains a presence and a character. By the time it begins to breathe with you, a bond is already there.
Lying down, shoes off
Posture changes the role you play. Lying on the floor under a sky turns a visitor into an inhabitant, and the small ritual of preparation already begins the shared experience.
No instructions about feelings
Being told to feel connected is the fastest way not to be. The space offers conditions and a little mystery, and leaves the story to the people in it.

Sources

What we read

A selection from our literature review. These readings shaped our thinking about belonging, group practice, ritual and interactive experience.

An open invitation

Questions we are living with

We explored belonging to nature. Belonging to ourselves, to each other, to places and to communities are waiting to be explored too. We don’t have answers to these questions. If any of them pull at you, take them into your own practice, and tell us what you find.

About belonging

  • How do you feel that you belong without feeling that you are being controlled?
  • What is the difference between having control and playing a role?
  • Can a room of strangers become a “we” in half an hour — and should it?
  • Can we belong to weather? To a sky, a cloud, a season?
  • How do you design for connection that is felt, not performed?
  • What trace can a one-off encounter leave, so that people might meet again?
  • When everyone breathes together, where does my breath end?

About the cloud

  • How do we invite someone to breathe with the cloud without instructing them?
  • How much of the twilight’s story should be told, and how much left to the imagination?
  • How does the bond with the cloud carry on after you leave?
  • Where could it live next: a gallery, a public space, a train carriage, a boat?
  • What would a space for belonging to each other, or to ourselves, look like?