On the edge of a former military terrain near Ede stands a strange, spherical structure: De Stingerbol, or The Stinger Dome. Built in 1984 at the height of the Cold War, this 18-meter-wide dome once functioned as a 3D simulation chamber for training soldiers in the use of the Stinger missile system. Inside, projections of enemy aircraft moved across the curved surface while soldiers learned to aim and fire. The dome was sealed and abandoned in the early 1990s, after the Cold War ended. Today, it remains intact—but empty.

What makes this structure unique is not only its shape, but its acoustic and spatial presence. The dome responds to every sound—whispers, footsteps, breath—with infinite, overlapping echoes. Inside, verbal communication becomes nearly impossible. When the doors are closed, the space is completely dark. It is immersive, disorienting, and strangely intimate.

I first entered the Stinger Dome in 2012, during a commission to design an artwork referencing the site’s military past. But instead of placing an object in or near the dome, I proposed that the dome itself become the artwork—a sculpture made of space, sound, memory, and potential. That proposal saved the building from demolition.

In 2019, I returned with a drumstick and an audio recorder. I walked through the dark, hitting the floor and walls with the drumstick, letting the space answer back. In that moment, the dome became an instrument. A performer. A witness.

In 2020, I initiated an Artist-in-Residence program inside the Stinger Dome, inviting four artists to work with the site not just as a location, but as a medium. Their responses—visual, sonic, spatial—were developed under pandemic restrictions, so largely unseen by a wider audience. But they were documented in a publication, alongside the oral histories of veterans who once trained inside the dome. These personal accounts added layers of narrative to a space previously defined only by its military function.

This project is an ongoing exploration of how a site shaped by warfare can be reimagined as a space for collective meaning-making. The Stinger Dome holds within it both trauma and possibility—and through art, I aim to shift its role from simulation of destruction to invitation for connection.

My long-term vision is simple but radical:

To remove both doors of the dome.
To fully empty the space.
To let the public in.

To allow people to experience the dome as a living artwork—one they shape by being present in it.

A place where they might sing, whisper, mourn, marry, or simply listen.

A sculpture you walk into.
A void filled with meaning, again and again.