INTERVIEW Sept 2025 Jazmin Morris on Gaming, World-Building, and Inclusive Futures

Harpreet Kaur

Leeds-based creative computing artist and educator Jazmin Morris is part of the Abandon Normal Devices (AND) Creative Associate Scheme working with the School of Digital Art (SODA) at Manchester Metropolitan University (MMU) to present new work at in-house digital Modal gallery. AND initiate new approaches to art making and digital invention within new cinema, digital culture & art. Morris uses free and open-source tools to generate participatory digital works that challenge power dynamics and hierarchies within cyberspace. Harpreet Kaur, a writer and dynamic innovation leader driving equitable growth and tech-focused social impact, talks creative computing, games design, and social commentary with Morris in the following dynamic interview that ranges from ancient indigenous computational systems to Super Mario 64.

In an era defined by rapid technological advancement and an ever-blurring line between the physical and the digital, the world of contemporary art is undergoing an intriguing transformation. No longer confined to the traditional canvas or plinth, artistic expression is increasingly finding its voice within immersive digital realms, interactive experiences, and, perhaps most notably, the vibrant landscape of gaming. This shift represents not just a new frontier for artists, but a critical evolution in how we conceive of, create, and consume art.

Gaming, once a niche pastime, has exploded into a global cultural phenomenon, becoming a dominant force in popular culture and a significant driver within innovation ecosystems worldwide. Its influence extends far beyond entertainment, shaping narratives, fostering communities, and pushing the boundaries of interactive design. This burgeoning sector attracts substantial development and funding, creating dynamic spaces for creativity and technological innovation. For me, as someone deeply embedded in the innovation ecosystem with a fervent passion for inclusivity and a background rooted in arts and culture, this convergence is an area of curiosity.

The “Sandbox” project by Jazmin Morris, presented by Abandon Normal Devices and the School of Digital Arts (SODA) at MMU, stands as a good example of this exciting trajectory. By re-imagining a gallery space as a community resource, both in-person and through an 8-bit virtual platform, Morris challenges conventional notions of exhibition and engagement. Her work, which uses creative computing and games design as mediums for social and political criticism, offers a glimpse into a future where art is not just observed, but actively participated in.

This exhibition, with its focus on “worlding,” knowledge exchange, and a commitment to accessible technology, directly addresses critical questions about representation and inclusivity within creative tech practices. It highlights the urgent need for diverse voices in the creation of digital worlds, moving beyond traditional structures to foster collective resistance and liberation through media. As galleries and museums continue to evolve, embracing digital dimensions and advanced technologies, understanding projects like “Sandbox” becomes paramount. They illuminate a path forward where public spaces for art are not merely venues for display, but dynamic, inclusive environments where art is experienced, shared, and co-created, fundamentally rethinking what an exhibition can be beyond “just paintings on a wall.” 

Harpreet Kaur: Jazmin, your work is incredibly compelling, blending creative computing, games design, and social commentary. For someone who might not be familiar with these fields, could you describe in your own words what you actually do as a Creative Computing Artist and Educator? Where did your inspiration for this unique practice come from, and how did it all begin for you?

Jazmin Morris: My practice began with frustrations born from exploring how my identity was, or wasn’t, presented in cyberspace and digital worlds. I remember back when I was 19, doing my Foundation, I started asking why we show up in certain ways online, and what systems might be oppressing us, or conversely, liberating us, a [sense] of not always feeling like my identity was welcomed or even able to be constructed. This eventually led me to critique the gaming landscape, especially around avatar creators.

As a Creative Computing Artist and Educator, I essentially flip-flop between being a creative practitioner and using creative computing as both a medium and a technology that I actively play with and criticise. This is quite expansive, involving everything from visual coding and exploring the politics and history of code, to 3D modelling, game design, and even looking at hardware. The education aspect has been embedded in my practice since the beginning; I’ve always run community workshops and open discussions for the general public, because I believe it starts with education and knowledge, so we can then co-create worlds and technologies. Working in academia now, it makes sense to refer to myself as both an artist and educator.

HK: Your practice is described as considering “the historical trajectories of modern technology” and critically speculating on “human-computer interaction.” How do these historical and speculative lenses inform the themes and aesthetics of your digital worlds?

JM: I’m deeply interested in the histories of technology, often looking beyond modern origins to ancient indigenous computational approaches and how colonisation influenced development. Questions like “would things look differently if technology was developed elsewhere by other people?” and exploring ties to military and surveillance all inform the critical, humanitarian side of my work. Books like ‘Gods and Robots’ (1) help anchor these conversations. Aesthetically, my work is always participatory and socially engaged, aiming to be accessible. As a self-taught artist in this field, my work doesn’t have a polished aesthetic; it’s often janky, with the process on show. This intentional approach makes it approachable, hoping audiences feel they could “make that” or that it evokes nostalgia, contributing to a deliberate archaic digital aesthetic.

My critique extends to the early internet’s ethos, epitomised by mottos like Facebook’s former “move fast and break things.” While initially exciting, this approach has been incredibly damaging, reflecting a pervasive violence within the industry where boundaries were non-existent, and the impact of digital actions was often dismissed as intangible or invisible. This has left us with what I describe as a “malaise of everything.” I advocate for a different approach: “move slow and fix things”, which better aligns with the careful consideration needed for technology’s ethical and social implications.

HK: You often use free and open-source tools. What is the significance of this choice in your creative process, and how does it align with your broader artistic and critical intentions?

JM: Using free and open-source tools is crucial, especially when I’m running workshops. I can adapt my sessions for older devices and institutions in low socio-economic areas that might not have the latest hardware. This allows me to work with what’s available, whether it’s three old tablets or a single old computer in an office. It’s important to me that participants can go home and continue making; I want to inspire ongoing creativity, not create dependency on expensive software or equipment they can’t afford. This choice directly combats the class disparity in digital access and aligns with my belief that community centres and libraries should be hubs for accessing cutting-edge technology like 3D printers and VR headsets, fostering collaboration and knowledge sharing.

HK: “Sandbox” re-imagines Modal gallery as a community resource and manifests both in-person and via Gather, an 8-bit style virtual platform. What was the vision behind creating this hybrid, immersive experience, and what unique opportunities does it offer for “inclusive and participatory exchange of knowledge and experiences” that a traditional gallery setting might not?

JM: The Gather component of “Sandbox” is highly experimental. I haven’t simulated an exhibition in conferencing software not explicitly built for it before, but it felt like an extension of “Sandbox”‘s DIY folk computing approach. The vision was accessibility for those who can’t physically come to Manchester, although I’m aware it doesn’t solve universal digital access. It allowed me to have a digital presence, extending the exhibition into another virtual “room” where people can explore texts and games. Running a talk in Gather was far more immersive than Zoom; people felt freer, leading to better communication in an inspirational and creative space, truly blending IRL and URL.

HK: During the workshop with Michelle Collier the topic came up of whether games can be safe spaces for catharsis or if they are predominantly driven by themes of violence and capitalism. How does “Sandbox” specifically engage with this tension, and what kind of “worlds” are you aiming to create or critique through its interactive elements?

JM: The tension you mention is very present in “Sandbox”. There are elements like a masculine figure with a gun, and I exhibit games with problematic portrayals of cultures, identities, or war. This is intentional; I want us to confront these realities. Through the exhibition’s interactivity, I invite people to play these games, criticise them, and reflect on their impact. Then, they can use other resources in “Sandbox” to create alternatives. It’s about being influenced by both the good and the bad, and addressing the “elephant in the room.” I also wanted young people to feel seen, so including popular titles they recognise was important, even if I critique them. The library at “Sandbox”, filled with literature on race, gender, and cyber feminism, serves as a positive counterpoint, encouraging audiences to formulate their own opinions from a diverse array of media.

HK: You aim to disrupt traditional archiving and knowledge sharing, situating media as a tool for “collective resistance and liberation.” Can you elaborate on how “Sandbox” and its open-access library challenge conventional notions of knowledge dissemination and empower audiences?

JM: My work aims to fill the gaps created by funding cuts and rising tuition fees that limit access to cultural and educational experiences. I believe skills and knowledge should exist in more accessible spaces beyond traditional institutions. “Sandbox” provides a space for diverse individuals - not just young people, but single parents or older people, who might face financial or other barriers to access. By offering an open-access library and media that people can freely engage with, “Sandbox” challenges the often oppressive and exclusive nature of some traditional art and educational spaces, making knowledge more welcoming and empowering for those outside conventional identities.

HK: Your work with Rekindle, an alternative school for working-class young people in Manchester, is a powerful example of your commitment to accessibility. How did this partnership come about and what specific outcomes or insights have emerged from collaborating with a hyperlocal community of students, academics, and local groups?

JM: While I advocate for accessibility, Modal gallery is still within a university, and universities can be difficult for young people to access. I didn’t want the exhibition to lack a direct invitation to the local community. Having recently moved back to the North, I wanted to build local relationships similar to those I had in London. So, I decided early on to collaborate directly with an existing local group of young people. Rekindle was a perfect fit; they are an amazing organisation, and running workshops with their young people within the “Sandbox” environment has been a dream. It ensures that the project actively engages with a hyper-local community, bridging the gap between institutional spaces and the young people who might benefit most.

HK: My notes from Ama Dogbe’s workshop highlighted the statistic that only 13% of individuals in the gaming industry come from working-class backgrounds. How do you see your work, particularly through initiatives like “folk computing” and accessible tools like Twine and Bitsy, addressing these crucial representation gaps in the creation and consumption of digital art and games?

JM: This statistic isn’t surprising, as access to creative technology is a significant barrier. My practice, through using and teaching with free, accessible tools, aims to show that successful art and digital creation don’t require expensive software or high-end hardware. I try to normalise a janky aesthetic, encouraging others to realise they too can create without perfect tools. I believe public makerspaces and well-equipped community centres are vital, as it’s unfeasible for many working-class individuals to rent or buy the necessary equipment. This lack of access directly impacts who can engage with and eventually enter the digital creative industries. My work seeks to build confidence and foster continuous engagement, starting with fundamental access to tools and knowledge, which I believe is key to addressing these representation gaps.

HK: Beyond the creation aspect, how do you envision “Sandbox” fostering greater inclusivity and diversity amongst its audience and players? What steps have been taken to ensure that the exhibition reaches and resonates with a broad spectrum of people?

JM: “Sandbox” is designed to be as open and inviting as possible. By partnering with local community groups like Rekindle, hosting events both in-person and virtually through Gather, and focusing on accessible and relatable themes, the aim is to lower barriers to entry. The exhibition encourages varied forms of engagement – from simply observing to actively playing, reading, critiquing, and co-creating. This multi-layered approach ensures that individuals from diverse backgrounds and with different levels of familiarity with digital art feel welcome and empowered to engage with the concepts and tools presented.

HK: You mentioned that your research explores how the representation of different cultures has not been done well in games. Could you share specific examples or approaches you take to ensure mindful and respectful cultural impact in your own “world-building”?

JM: My primary approach is “building with” – through collaboration. Whether it’s direct partnerships or incorporating insights from conversations with diverse individuals, I believe that worlds are best co-created. This collaborative environment, which Sandbox aims to facilitate, is crucial for avoiding problematic notions rooted in colonialism or biased perspectives. World-building doesn’t always have to be a polished immersive game; it can be oral storytelling, simple sketches, or other forms of expression. I also draw heavily from my own lived experience, creating environments that feel authentic and safe to me, such as working-class settings or council estates. This combination of collaborative, inclusive creation and drawing from personal experience helps ensure more mindful and respectful cultural impact.

HK: Ama Dogbe noted that some museums simply mimic physical experiences online, but she believes in building “new worlds that can’t be done in real life.” You, however, don’t separate URL and IRL worlds. Could you expand on your philosophy regarding the interplay between physical and digital spaces in art, and how “Sandbox” exemplifies this integrated approach?

JM: I intentionally avoid separating IRL (in-real-life) and URL (online) because everything we do in cyberspace ultimately affects our physicality, and the digital world draws all its references from the physical. Mystifying technology by separating these realms makes it inaccessible and less tangible. It’s a crucial reminder that server farms, undersea cables, and satellites – the physical infrastructure of the internet – exist in our tangible world. While I philosophically integrate them, I agree with Ama artistically: we need to be more creative. We haven’t yet achieved the imaginative aesthetics and immersive experiences possible in cyberspace because we keep simulating reality. It’s not about needing new tech; it’s about pushing our own imagination and challenging ourselves to create truly new, boundless digital worlds.

HK: Looking ahead, what do you believe the “Sandbox” project, and digital art more broadly, signifies for the future of galleries and exhibitions? How can these spaces evolve beyond “just paintings on a wall” to embrace the full potential of immersive and interactive experiences?

JM: My work in “Sandbox” stems from a frustration with the traditional, often Eurocentric, “no-touch” approach of many museums and galleries. While I appreciate paintings, I believe institutions need to create more space for digital art, which inherently demands physical interaction with hardware. Exhibiting games or VR requires more audience support and presence, but the enhanced immersive experience makes it worthwhile. I see institutions as sometimes being “gatekeepers” to innovation. In “Sandbox,” I pushed Modal gallery to allow the games and books to be openly accessible, not locked away. This was an experiment in trusting the public, and it worked—nothing was taken. I believe cultural institutions need to shed this colonial-rooted mistrust of the public and embrace true accessibility and interaction to evolve fully.

HK: Given your appreciation for classic gaming icons like Super Mario 64 and your critical approach to modern technology, how do you balance nostalgia and critique in your work? What lessons from early gaming or internet culture do you think are most relevant for today’s digital artists and world-builders?

JM: My decision to include older game examples in “Sandbox” was deliberate. It demonstrates how interesting and powerful stories, even with less resolution, portability, or computational power, were still possible in early gaming. It’s a lesson that you don’t need “snazzy tech” to tell immersive stories. The inclusion of board games in the exhibition also speaks to this; my practice always looks back at the history of play and gaming. The most relevant lesson is that true innovation isn’t solely about technological advancement, but about the idea and the message. Digital artists today should focus on creativity and meaning, understanding that compelling narratives and experiences can be built with accessible tools, challenging the obsession with purely high-fidelity graphics.

HK: Your background includes self-training and learning through workshops and platforms like YouTube, which you credit. How has this non-traditional path influenced your unique perspective and approach to creative computing and digital art?

JM: I owe a great deal to YouTube creators, Stack Overflow, and community
resources – many digital artists feel the same. However, I noticed that many tutorials
were inaccessible, with very few women creating them. Others in the industry have noticed this gap – “Softer Digital Futures” consists of two women that create specific, gentle tutorials with a low barrier to entry and a yearly ‘soft’ tech conference. Being young, mixed-raced, and from working-class Yorkshire, I’m aware of alternative learning paths, which shaped my love and hate relationship with DIY. This background informs my unique perspective: advocating for approachable, inclusive, and community-driven creative computing that challenges traditional, often exclusive, learning hierarchies.

HK: Finally, what is one key message or feeling you hope visitors take away from their experience with “Sandbox”?

JM: The overarching message I hope visitors take away from “Sandbox” is: “Creative tech is for me.” The project does many things, from exploring world-building through oral traditions and tarot cards to physical and digital elements. Ultimately, I want people to actively think about the kind of world we want to see in the future, including radical, anarchist proposals alongside the digital. If visitors feel that creative technology is genuinely for them, whether through engaging with the literature, the physical space, or the interactive elements, then I feel I have done my job. The level of engagement is up to them—they can observe, play, read, or be critical—because it’s not an exclusive world.

Footnote

(1) Adrienne Mayor Gods and Robots – Myths, Machines, and Ancient Dreams of Technology (2018) Princeton University Press: New Jersey