In Conversation with Cathy Mager: Deaf-Led Storytelling Blooms in Plymouth’s Immersive Dome

In this In Conversation feature, we speak with Cathy Mager, Artistic Director of Spectroscope and the creative force behind Night Bloom, a groundbreaking 360° immersive artwork coming to Plymouth’s Market Hall Dome this October. Cathy reflects on her journey as a deaf artist, the power of sign language as storytelling, and how biodiversity and resilience inspire this extraordinary work.

Can you tell us a bit about your journey into the arts and how you came to found Spectroscope?

I spent 20 years working as a curator and producer in museums and galleries, specialising in monumental installations often set in unexpected environments such as castles, forests and rivers. As a deaf person raised within the Deaf community and deeply committed to disability rights, I was rarely given the chance to reflect my culture or incorporate sign language into my work. I wanted to change that. During the 2020 pandemic, I had a vision to found my own company, creating spectacular artworks led by, and inspired by, deaf and disabled people worldwide.

Night Bloom is such a unique blend of dance, sign language, and immersive visuals. How did the concept first take shape?

We began by exploring improvised storytelling in sign language, collaborating with three exceptional Chinese dancers to choreograph the performance elements of the work. At the same time, we researched botanical archives dating back 150 years, gathering hand-drawn depictions of flora and fauna. These illustrations were later woven into landscapes created by a Chinese illustrator, bringing together language, history, and art in a unified vision.

The work uses Visual Vernacular and Chinese Sign Language. How do these elements deepen the storytelling?

Visual Vernacular is a unique artform within the global Deaf community. I believe sign language has the power to tell stories of beauty, darkness, and hope in ways that transcend the written and spoken word. Through its visual richness, it can convey layered scientific, social, and political histories while also creating evolving puns through the subtlest shifts of the hand—for example, the blooming fist that means “fall in love” can transform into “enlightenment.” Traditional Chinese Sign Language, with its deep symbolism drawn from Chinese culture—such as the lotus flower, the sun, and the moon—has been woven into this artwork, expanding its meaning and resonance.

You’ve described Night Bloom as a deaf-led perspective on the climate emergency. Why was biodiversity the right metaphor for this?

There is a rich tradition of botanical metaphors in Deaf poetry, Visual Vernacular, and activism, yet much of this history remains little known. Spectroscope seeks to honour and extend the legacy of this marginalised artform while also underscoring the urgent need to include deaf and disabled people in shaping the future of our planet. Every day, deaf and disabled people navigate barriers and restrictions, facing oppression simply for being different. Deaf people’s language, too, has been under threat for generations, with attempts to ban sign language dating back to the late 19th century. I believe that the resilience and adaptive skills developed through these experiences uniquely position deaf and disabled voices to respond to the challenges of environmental change, biodiversity loss, and fragmentation.

 The garden in Night Bloom experiences both abundance and destruction. What does the storm represent for you?

The storm symbolises oppression and the destructive force of arrogance and greed, which drive the eradication of communities and biodiversity.

The hand-drawn botanical illustrations and archival references give the piece a very organic feel. Why was it important to keep that “handmade” approach?

We wanted to keep the reference to hands throughout the artwork, hands that plant seeds of thought and nature, hands that draw to capture our natural world and hands that sign stories and envision the future beyond. Sometimes CGI and AI created work can feel detached and lacking in emotional depth, so we wanted to retain the realness, the texture and imperfections of hand made work throughout the piece. 

Shanghai’s deaf community was a key inspiration. Could you share more about their resilience and what they mean to the work?

In the past, deaf people in Shanghai lived together in close-knit communities, creating a thriving local microclimate of sign language and mutual support. In the 1960s, however, these vibrant streets were demolished, and residents were displaced, scattered far from one another. To stay connected, they began gathering weekly in the gardens of Luxun Park, a tradition that has continued for over 50 years. Under the trees, they meet to converse in sign language and practice Tai Chi together. We were honoured to be the first international visitors welcomed into this remarkable community.

Market Hall’s immersive dome is a rare space. How does showing Night Bloom in 360° change the audience’s experience?

We are excited to reimagine this artwork as a 360-degree experience. In the Deaf community, gatherings often take place in circles so that everyone can see one another and follow signing clearly. Our language is three-dimensional, unfolding through the face, hands, and body, and storytelling flows naturally within a circular space. This setting is therefore the perfect environment for Deaf storytelling, offering audiences the chance to see the world through Deaf eyes. We are adapting the original artwork specifically for the dome, creating a bespoke experience unique to Plymouth—the first 360-degree sign language artwork in the world led by Deaf artists.

Spectroscope’s projects have included large-scale projections for venues around the world. How does this dome production compare creatively?

The dome allows us to fully immerse audiences in a hand-drawn, hand-shaped world. It becomes a portal into the Deaf experience—an invitation to step out of the hearing world and into a mystical landscape of nature and sign language. Across the curved surface, hands will stretch, shift, and move in breathtaking formations, transforming the space into a living, visual spectacle.

What do you hope audiences — deaf, disabled, and hearing — will carry with them after experiencing Night Bloom?

I hope Night Bloom offers a sense of hope. Too often, we are confronted with bleak, dystopian visions of the world’s future. Instead, Night Bloom imagines the possibility of survival and renewal—a future where difference and diversity, in both human and natural forms, are not only accepted but celebrated.