A large wooden table serves as a stage for these non-human performers: a lever pulls a string fixed to an electrode plunger in a jar of electrified saltwater; a light dimmer’s dial turns slowly under the control of a small motor; vibrating electromagnetic fields sound piano wires and create percussive pulses in drums and metal cans; yogurt lids pinned to sticks sway to and fro over light sensors. These elements combine to spontaneously compose Instrumentation’s hypnotic chorus. To create vibrating magnetic fields I use simple oscillator circuits, rare earth magnets and cheap or hand-wound electromagnetic coils. These fields sonically activate a range of material such as scrap glass, metal objects, and tensioned wire. Light-sensing photocells on the circuits enable the frequencies to be varied by ambient light levels, regulated by the mechanical performers—motorized light-dimmer devices and automated light-blocking shutters. Held together with paperclips, blue-tack and hot melt glue, the makeshift appearance of the arrangement preserves a sense of the experiments from which it has evolved. The overall aesthetic is open, in that the underlying technology has been left as transparent as possible. Though they may be used in unfamiliar ways, cues come from familiar items; like sewing machine bobbin electromagnets or garbage can resonators. Coupled to the compelling sound, domestic parts provide an immediate bodily engagement with otherwise intangible phenomena. A primary goal I have as an artist is to build systems that I do not fully understand, with behaviours I cannot fully predict. In Instrumentation cycles overlap, synchronize and step out of phase, collectively generating an endlessly fluctuating sound track. The repetitive actions of each performer are a manifestation of the clock, the fundamental digital device.