Every second your brain is flooded with millions of sensory signals. Light sound, movement, thoughts. But most of it passes unnoticed. What you notice is what your brain marks as useful.

Neuroscientists call this selective attention: a filtering system shaped by evolution to help us survive. We’re wired to detect faces, spot danger, and look out for the unfamiliar. Once tuned to the rustle of predators, our monkey brain is now tuned to glowing screens. As historian Yuval Noah Harari notes, we have become “hackable animals.” Our attention is being hijacked, and used against us by companies like Meta, who pour absurd amounts of money into hiring psychologists and data scientists. Their Job? To find the perfect balance of stimulation and unpredictability to keep us scrolling. But we’re no longer worried about predators. In most parts of the world we are safer, wealthier, and get older than ever before. And yet, our attention remains in survival mode. Constantly reacting. Rarely choosing.

Imagine only knowing what you look like from seeing yourself in the reflection of a puddle. Thats what is was like for most of human history. Only with the invention of mirrors we began to see ourselves as other might - and ever since then we obsess about it. Now we are not just surrounded by mirrors - but carry a black mirror with us at all times - one that reflects not just our image, but our attention: where it goes, who gets it, and how it’s fed back to us.

We carefully choose what we eat, how we move, what we wear. But how often do we choose what information we take in? If our minds can be hacked, shouldn’t we think more deliberately about our information diet?

Lets shine a light on the bright side of things now.

What if attention wasn’t just something taken from us - but something we offer?

What if we used it not only to consume, but to connect? To create a world that we want our children to witness. One species, sharing one planet - with the rare ability to think, choose, and reflect.

Attention is not just a resource. It’s a gift. When offered with care, it becomes presence. No one remembers the last five reels they watched zoned out. But we remember that one artwork that unsettled us. The lyric in a song we started crying to. The stillness after a conversation that stayed with us - long after we left the room.

Because when attention is truly given - not just spent - it leaves a trace.

This exhibition invites you to notice what notices you. To pause in a space where nothing scrolls, blinks, or refreshes - except your own awareness.