Manija - On my Time as a Fellow at Edge City Patagonia 2025

This is a guest post by Rucha Benare, shared here with permission. The views are Maxwell's own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Edge City. Read more Edge City Patagonia Fellowship reflections from Maxwell, Brian, Rhea, and Akshaya.

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‘‘I’m outside’’ texted my friend Desirée. I was stuffing my dry mouth with the last bits of cream cheese and soda bread left in my fridge. It all felt too crumbly. It was 2 hours before my flight to Argentina. My housemates Cian and Alyx were busy hyping me up. It was not that I was not excited for yet another weird-adventure-where-I-get-to-go-off-the-grid-in-a-country-where-I-don’t-know-anyone-nor-do-I-speak-their-language-and-make-new-friends-and-do-my-sciencey-and-artsy-bits; it was just that I was kinda getting used to the Big Smoke¹ finally. I had finally found a lovely lab where I wanted to do my sciencey (organ-on-chip) and artsy (biomechanics art curation) bits with others, while contributing for healthcare and people in the best way I could via a PhD (and finally getting over my reservations re: academia over the past 4 years). I just kinda wanted to double down on having a room of my own², living with my few solid friends, and being stable, normal, finally.

I was offered a fellowship to go to Patagonia. I would have a 4-week long fully funded opportunity to live in a pop-up city, a society incubator called Edge City prototyping future city developments, and come-up with my own design of work while living with other like-minded high-agency people. It sounded fabulous. I was, however, hesitant to disrupt my new-found stability and line of experiments for something so novel —even for me. So what, I will go about the town on my own for some scientific and artistic in-field explorations– that’s not new for me. But this time it would be with 600ish other people, kinda with the same purpose, along with a lot of investors, architects of governance/decentralisation, and all other people with wordy word backgrounds. For the longest time, I thought they were full of gas. However, something urged me to go try this one. I couldn’t go to their previous one in California they had offered me in the summer of 2025. It looked mad cool and I got a bit of FOMO.

But Desirée was calling me, and Cian and Alyx offered to help me with my bags as I was sweating. I contemplated faking a stomach ache or something so I could stop myself from going. But, I let them take my bags. I put the trash out of my room. Turned off the lights. Locked the doors. Gave my friends a few hugs. Hopped into the car. Let out a big sigh. Let’s figure it out as we go. Desirée started the engine.

It takes around 30 minutes to get to the Dublin Airport. Be grand.

I always loved taking the shotgun and nostalgically watching the Georgian houses and the trees mush into a beautiful blur of orange, brown, and green (when it is not rush hour and you are not stuck in an ugly silver sea of cars). The blur provided a loom for my stream of consciousness to mesh and weave through. It let my thinking and feelings breathe. Desirée asked if I was okay. I was taking it all in.

San Martín de Los Andes was crisp, chilly, with dewy fresh air. It shone like a Swiss town sparkling under spring sun. Meticulous and clean, with its grid-ladden roads dotted with tall triangular roofed wooden buildings. All roads leading either to lush green hills or the deep blue lake and sky held by even more hills. Every venue was beautiful, every café pristine. I vaguely had a plan of what I wanted to do here. I had been working with my mentors back home on coming up with new protocols on collaborating with people with Muscular Dystrophy. I had recently officially begun my PhD in developing muscle-on-chip platforms to better disease-models and test treatments for skeletal-muscle diseases. I had also been steadily building my art collective, Muse Ex Machina, over the last 3 years, during which we have curated and exhibited artworks researching specific problems in biomechanics and healthcare across 3 countries. I wanted to continue merging the artistic techniques with biomedical engineering experience for a more healthcare-oriented application. I wanted to keep meeting new creatives who believed in joining forces for this mission.

So I started wandering. First, food. I consulted Google Maps for some hot, ready-to-eat, cheap snacks to satiate my 33-hour-flight-ridden, half-asleep, mega-hungry body, and stepped into a small food store. I ordered via some broken spanish and a lot of hand gestures— phew. I was handed a frozen empanada— sigh. But the lady was so excited to explain it to me that I didn’t have it in my heart to stop her. I asked what she did. She told me she worked for the government’s conservation of national parks. I told her my research and my longstanding ambition to merge indigenous artistic knowledge with engineering for biomedical research. She told me about the wonderful Mapuché community³ and the hospital 35 km away that sort of merges their ways of being into modern medicine. We became friends. Liliane invited me to visit her government building⁴. This was Day 1, Hour 003. I was getting excited. This could actually work. I was taking it all in.

Many such encounters happened during my first week in Patagonia which gave me new friends, nuggets of wisdom, and a semblance of hope that I can create something not-full-of-gas here . There were some parts of me that, despite many reassurances to focus on just fact-finding from my mentors, wanted to still impress them. And some parts of me, despite knowing that, were afraid of coming back home empty-handed. A deeper issue, I know. I had been trying to re-wire my motivations for the past 4 years. I tried distracting myself. So I went to many events, talks, and venues Edge City had curated. I was taking it all in. Fascinating topics like Borges short stories, intro to the Upanishads, Solarpunk discussions with Timour (the co-founder of Edge City) on transhumanism, polarity of choice, protecting human discernment in the context of AI. I was taking it all in. Privacy-preserving tech, and importantly, everyone having the right to choose the level of technology they wish to integrate with. Very much reminiscent of a book⁵ I was reading recently. I was taking it all in.

Some of these talks and people I met at random cafés and events were just fun. It surreptitiously charged me; the curator-brain was at work already. One evening, a quantum physicist, Matias Bilkis⁶, gave a talk⁷ at 8 pm. It was cool to see almost 50 people show up despite the time/long day of well-curated activties. Afterwards, I asked if we could get coffee tomorrow to talk about an idea I had. He said maybe, after his other talk, three hours before his flight. No problem. The next day, he apologised that he was running late. I said No problem, let’s do this as you pack. We hit it off. He showed me some awesome leads and connections. I suggested that we merge some of his qubit stuff with my cellular biology experimental design poems I wrote during my time at the University of Tokyo (when I was an artist-in-residence) on my own in Japan⁸, thanks to Prof Tyler Cowen’s generous belief in my ‘‘craziness’’). Matti loved it. He nudged up his favourite Schrodinger-y black spectacles and started explaining decoherence and emergence at the cellular level. A rolled-up green shirt in his hand started becoming undone as he waved his hands fervently. I had to remind him that he had a flight that he should finish packing for. We managed a vague game plan. We said our goodbyes. He managed to get on the flight. Soon after, we started sharing correspondence on creating artwork, researching superposition and quantum biophysics. I had a good feeling we could make an artwork out of this pretty soon.

Desirée had to take a detour because there was a MASSIVE queue on the road ahead. The town during the rush hour was a nightmare. This was not news to me. But here I am. Probably also because I like the thrill of conquering all my hurdles while cutting it close (I’m working on it). My friend was not the type to be crass and curse about this. But I was. I let out a string of colourful words.

While I was making great progress in knowledge leads and people-finding, it was, however, abysmal getting hold of equipment for my other experimental research [to be discussed separately]. I was ⅓ into my time on-site, and I was getting many (and learning about more) dead-ends; customs-problems, strings-attacheds, misalignments in mission/purpose/transactions, etc. I guess no EEG tech for me. Man, I might have to ditch my experiments here. I am going to let my people down – I tried to distract myself again. I also started to feel the effects of not having a stable routine and eating just whatever and whenever. And getting zapped of my energy by spreading myself too thin. There were just too many people with out-there ideas (or rather, were good at telling them out there). Sometimes, I kept interacting with people not meant for me, thinking I could discover or learn why they do things I would not. Sometimes, I would listen to people clearly giving me wrong advice. Or had my levers pushed to get something done that would benefit both of us, but at my expense, by ignoring my requests. Many times, I did not slow down to process instances that open semi-healed wounds of the psyche. So much so that I found myself curled up in my bed for an entire day and turning down invites- especially a good one, a local governor and his wife (with Irish relatives) who wanted to have me over for lunch and show me the national park and Huechulafquen lake⁹. I felt super low. I also had started stalling from entering a venue or a meeting and would stand outside- just to get my breathing right. This was getting common. Not a good sign. I needed to get my sh*t together.

Desirée switched gears, took a left. Cut through a regional road. Got on N1, a national road, slightly bigger. But the traffic had not reduced by much. Roadblocks are normal, you know, it’s okay, let’s find a way around. You got this. I trusted her; she’s an excellent driver. We got this. You made this plan, trust your gut. 20 minutes to go.

To recover, I kept frequenting the lake nearby, either in solitude or with friends. I went grocery shopping, trying to suss out the best way to decipher all the ‘‘sin’’ and ‘‘con’’s (Spanish-isms) of preservatives and see what will keep me going. Smoked Cheese, Risotto, Bell peppers, Granola, Yoghurt, Salmon, Chicken. Yes, that will do. More sleep. At the beach, I was getting inspired by the view of the water held by the mountains folding around it; I was getting visuals of new architectures for my microfluidic chips! Sunsets here in solitude were just sublime; I recalled the positives that we achieved so far.

Mostly the wins indeed had been funny- in both senses of the meaning… Like when I found myself running along with another wonderful friend I made at a fabulous women’s nourishment dinner party by Cait Chizmar, Xamantha, who was gracious enough to let me tag along and explain what we could work on as she FOUGHT for her life walking back to her house because she needed to pee. When we reached her residency house, I walked in and saw another person, Annie, whom I had met at the dinner party, holding… an EEG device. Holy macaroni. LFG¹⁰. We immediately hit it off; Her group told me about their ambitions, I told them about my plans, and we formed an alliance. We started working very closely. Lots of 3ams. She had solved repairing the very old EEG tech overnight. She was amazing. She, with Federico, Prof Javier, Paulo, and other Argentinians in the house, made a team of electronic engineers who were so skilled and passionate about their own work and the collaborations, it was energising me all the more. She said they have this saying called ‘Manija’, a door handle, like a turbo, once you have it set off, you can’t be stopped.

Manija. A flow state-starter. I was getting there.

In parallel, at a fellowship dinner party, Timour, upon hearing my interests in poetry, introduced me to a poet. I put it on the long list of people to meet for the week- hope it works out. But the next day, I was already having coffee with this guy, Watson, and walking around eating some of the silkiest ice cream I had ever had, talking about the mechanics of poetry. His poems naturally dealt with physicality and positioning. We started exchanging our poems, and we started analysing them. I told him my plans about investigating and educating about biomechanics and illnesses through poetry. He told me about his experience in conducting poetry workshops. Another moment of serendipity. We hung out organically almost daily and revealed just how aligned our interests were. But my gut had already chosen to work with him due to a particular instance that happened in the first 15 minutes of meeting him– when he calmly managed to include me back in our conversation, when someone I introduced him to tried to take over our first meeting and exclude me. A lot of such instances reminded me that it was not about the tech or the money or the position, it was always about the people and how they treated others and themselves. He is now one of my closest friends (who just visited me in Dublin) and a close collaborator on projects for Muse Ex Machina. Trust your gut.

And thus the experiments were afoot. Together, we set the experimental design in motion. Manija.

The experiment entailed giving the participants a few prompts, increasing in complexity, to empower them to write their own poems dealing with biomechanics while reading their brain states to cross-check and analyse. This was a little cog in a bigger system to establish a pipeline for participatory research for Public and Patient Involvement for my PhD research at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland and Muscle Dystrophy Ireland. More on this later.

Naturally enough, the first trial of our experiment was a horrible mess. I just had too many things to orchestrate from the get-go, had wavering energy levels, many ears waiting for my commands to proceed, and just many things I was trying to predict as I was setting things up. There were just so many confounding variables popping up– of the way participants use the equipment in non-conventional ways (that you just sourced + still figuring out its finicalities), or get up and move around, or someone interrupting the flow by walking in to get a charger, or getting up for water, etc. Deep breaths, it’s just a pilot. Watching Watson steadily proceed with his prompting to write poetry and Annie setting the EEG tech up and pairing, while I improvised and improved, reassured me. Them believing in my vision and execution of my ideas without hesitation reassured me. Them still trusting me with my stylistic choice of conducting the experiments while watching me go a bit mad while putting down fires reassured me. But I also knew I had to suss the root of my hiccups pretty soon...

Desirée found an exit from the N1, got back on a tinier but emptier regional road. We passed by a favourite takeaway shop of mine. Man, I would really enjoy a spice bag¹¹ right now. Nevermind. 17 minutes to go.

So with my new local friends, I stepped back to wind-down and reassessed my gameplan by going on hikes and enjoying gatherings and houseparties. I also sampled a wonderful curation of Asados, houseparties, homey argentinian food (yummiest take on chicken rice combo of all I have sampled around so far), women’s nourishment circle dinner (teas and loads of greens), walks with other lovely fellows, especially Maxwell Opondo, matcha latte’s and clubbing with Kris, and especially calming poetry sessions in the garden and living room hosted by Watson. These crafted periodic pick-me-ups that I needed to recover and power through my ups and downs. Once during a hike through a mapuche territory, Javier Jorge, a professor in Computer Engineering from Cordoba, explained that ‘‘The type, amount, and location of moss on the side of trees in forest indicate wind direction and that winds from different directions have different humidity’’. Nourishment and recovery, in different factions (spiritual, intellectual, physical, social) was what I needed to titrate more into my life. And that it was very visible where I could improve and what next I had to do…

…Recharged, I went back to the arena. I decided to finish this high-intensity field-work research via an event-led output. By prototyping an exhibition. I hoped I had enough Manija in me.

Desirée managed to get us on M50. Finally a motorway – wide and free. Everyone around us was zooming. Now she revved up. 10 minutes to go. Manija.

The experiments then went smooth sailing. We got a LOT of data. A lot of EEGs scans to process and biomechanical poems to analyse–- thanks to the ones who consented and submitted. I also gave a talk about my scientific/engineering research and the artistic hero (or heroine¹²)’s journey in my process. Seeing those 20ish people following my craft and story so closely (I yapped for a solid 45 minutes) was inspiring. I got my new artist-friends further psyched about the vision. We were all charging up to pull a mini exhibition in 3 days. Timour and the production team were generously on board with letting me use the closing ceremony venue for the exhibition.

However, just like me, my artist-friends would also disappear to lock-in. Normally, I would never mind this as part of my management style. But it is NOT convenient when your main event is in 72 hours, and your people just GO. OFF. THE. GRID. for 24 hours or more. I almost wanted to pull my hair out. I never had my trust and patience (and cynicism) tested so much. I loved it. It was a GREAT practice in building and rebuilding my trust in people. Some indeed disappeared, but most almost always showed up. One of our creatives, Rich Lee¹³, made a magnificent life-size sculpture called ‘The Sutures of an Immortalist’. It was glorious. Manija.

The 3 days thus were mad fun for me. Days morphed into nights into days. I had a random song on repeat for 72 times last night while I tried to make a sculpture for my piece ‘quantum biological rice’ based on my dialogue with quantum physicist Mati Bilkis. It was such a trance. Time folded in on itself. I resumed being back in the world when I heard a big POP in the Argentine oven (lit by a lighter) and I half-yelled at 3:40 am. Sorry LeVillage¹⁴. Sorry, my lovely housemate fellow, and thank god that you are a deep sleeper. I went through the exhibits, crafting last-minute touches to the ones that needed it. I felt like a parent or a teacher fixing her kindergarten children’s project the night before their Science fair. Moreover, it was only because I had already managed to be friends with the housekeeping staff that when one of them found the cabin in a state, the next day. She just stared blankly and then joked in Spanish if ‘‘a storm crashed into your place last night’’ (my friend had to translate this). We indeed had brewed a storm.

On the day of the exhibition, I had almost 8 tasks left to do around town. 6 hours to do them and drop stuff 30 minutes off-site, come back and work on the rest. Printing, picking up, dropping off, signing off on things, updating the closing-ceremony production team, etc, etc, etc. I almost forgot I also had to give a talk at Demo day, an event where the community gathers every weekend to present their work in a few minutes. There are just too many things to do. There is just not enough time. I am being too last-minute to try to ask for help. Lots of self-doubt bubbling. Lots of excuses as to why people won’t show up. Lots of reasons why people won’t help me. But this village was a big community of kind people. So wherever I went, I ran into my favourite people. And they were more than happy to help. I did not have to do it all alone. Kind and generous volunteers who just showed up on the way that day. Daniel and Oumayma. Thank you so much for agreeing at the last minute to take my stuff to the venue. I went to get ready to give the talk. I was still shaky, but people cheering for me as I walked up the stage helped. It was such a joy to see such a wonderful sea of people and smiles who built this gorgeous community. Watson was waiting for me at the back of the hall of 200 people. He volunteered, for the millionth time, to help. We now had barely 1 hour to set up the exhibition. I gave the talk and ran to him. We ran to get the artworks and the car. We revved for the mountains.

The exhibition set up was a blur with a few ups and downs. But the prototype of an exhibition held on its own. People started interacting with it. Our friends cheered us on. I took a step back. Kris van’s fabulous photography showcasing the biomechanics of shame, Steph’s fine-art pelvic sculpture on women’s health, 3D printed models by Oumayma and Xavier, Maxwell’s prosthetic hand from his previous work, Watson’s poetry installations, and more. We had 9 works of biomechanical artwork prototypes here in flesh¹⁵. And people were vibing with it! It made me feel so… honoured. This was a physical manifestation, a celebration, of my time here in Patagonia. Of all the people, ideas, disciplines, and collaborations I had come to know and adore. This was a physical installation and reinforcement of our hope of achieving transtemporality in the artistic and scientific process.

People were entering and leaving this venue, this bubble. It made me think of how much more we need such islands of work, play, community as training grounds (a personalisation for each hero’s journey) to prototype a better future. It made me think of the people that are yet to join this yet. Folks who know what it’s like to live with rare diseases or conditions (or disabilities). Who could also be architects of a better future¹⁶. I’m excited to see them join me as collaborators on my work soon.

A glorious golden sunset bowing goodbye right beside the 300 guests enjoying this exhibit along with other cool pop-up stalls and sick DJs. It was all-magical. I thought of all the things I was running away from. I took a deep breath. I drank a tall glass of water. My mouth did not feel dry anymore. I looked at my newfound wonderful circle of friends dancing by the DJ, the sunset, and the water. Watson, Noemi, Max, Gigi, Emma, Maxwell. I felt stronger, bolder. I’m ready for all that’s next. Time to get back home and build a better routine to develop further.

It is always the last 5 minutes before reaching something that you feel yourself sinking further down into your seat. You try to take it all in. The car smell. The merged blue sky and grey road splitting to show the airport terminal dotted with the colorful bags and jackets moving. The cozy air. Your friends’ warm laugh. The indicator ticking. The hugs. You will miss this place. But you have a feeling you will meet some amazing people soon. So you thank Desirée for the drop and the well wishes. You check in your bags. You go through security. You gather all the important things, pack them back in your armarium. You look at the wallpaper of your friends on your phone; you thank all your loved ones, mentors, funders, supporters and books¹⁷ that got you this far¹⁸. The gate will open soon now.

You are excited to see how you will fly with others, and what you will build next.

Manija.

Acknowledgements

There are just so MANY wonderful people to thank who made this car keep revving and get so far.

Timour Kosters & Janine Leger. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful opportunity to learn and develop as a fellow and for helping me meet some of the kindest and most wonderful people I know. The learnings from my time at Patagonia have been many and evident, as from the essay. Watson Deacon, more than a million thanks for being such a great friend and such an AWESOME collaborator. Kris Van, thank you for being there for my ups and downs and all the matcha hunting. The fab Sofia Scarlat, for the many many coordinations and all the help, Rhea and the fellows cohort – it was superb to work alongside you all.

And many many thanks to the FABULOUS creatives for pulling arguably the fastest pop-exhibition ever?! My awe knows no bounds. Rich Lee, Kris Van, Stephanie B, Oumayma, Watson, Matias Bilkis, Federico Bonino, Javier Alejandro Jorge, Anabella Scigliano and the Alter Mundi team, and more.

My eternal gratitude is to my mentors: Prof Oran Kennedy, Prof Lylas Aljohmani, and Prof Karl Lewis. Words are not enough.

My sincerest thanks still remain to the awesomest Tyler Cowen, for having such faith in my random ideas 2 years ago that still inspires me, and has opened infinitely many doors to new, wonderful people, ideas, and worlds that keep reshaping my life positively.

My deep gratitude is also to Ursina Merkt for her wonderful counsel, and the Arte Terra Clima Foundation Board (Ruedi, Thomas, Sophia) for their generosity and continued support.

And of course, the boys. The Fitzwilliam boys: Sam Enright, Tom McCarthy, Sean O’Neill McPartlin, Oisín Thomas Morrin, David McSherry, Sean Keyes, Fergus McCullough, Gavin Leech, Peter McLaughlin, and more (whom I look forward to getting to know more). Growing up beside you over the past few years has been such a privilege. Each one of you has inspired me to take up space, to take myself seriously, (try to have discipline, to write more, and to feel more at home here. Also take it in, I would never say this to ye faces :P

Most importantly, my friends and family. Cian Donovan and Sam Enright for the unfiltered feedback and the invaluable (and endless) counsel. And joining forces for the royal endless bullying to get me to blog. And Desi, Alyx, Liv, Aoife – you know.

And many more thanks to more and then some more.

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Footnotes

1 Dublin.

2 Virginia Woolf, A Room Of One’s Own.

3 Indigenous inhabitants of south-central Chile, southwestern Argentina, parts of Patagonia.

4 Conservation and Management Department of Lanin National Park, San Martín De Los Andes.

5 Boris Groys’ Becoming Artwork.

6 Matias Bilkis.

7 Edge City Patagonia Guest Speaker, Matias Bilkis, giving the talk: ‘Quantum Beyond the Hype‘.

8 Another weird-adventure-where-I-get-to-go-off-the-grid-in-a-country-where-I-don’t-know-anyone-nor-do-I-speak-their-language-and-make-new-friends-and-do-my-sciencey-and-artsy-bits, many thanks to Tyler Cowen via Emergent Ventures.

9 Huechulafquen lake.

10 Short for Let’s F***** Go!!!!

11 A spice bag is a peculiarly Irish form of Chinese food. It has no right to be as good as it is.

12 Thank you, Laura Rodman, for introducing this term to me.

13 Rich Lee for Muse Ex Machina.

14 The beautiful cabin Edge City had arranged me to stay at.

15 The exhibition prototypes! Muse Ex Machina at Edge City Patagonia Closing Ceremony.

16 Some literature re: ‘‘curb-cut effect’’, which is disability-centered research leading to better universal solutions, indirectly. à la necessity leading to inventions.

17 Some recents: Zhuanzi, Frank Oppenheimer Exploratorium (h/t Sam E + Tom M),  Rick Rubin, Dirk Vis, Free Radicals: Anarchy of Science, Frankenstein, Pride and Prejudice, etc.

18 Acknowledgements :)