Scrolling addicted hands x binary sentence x Monster face
Two hands, symmetrically mirrored, rise and fall in an endless scroll—at once mechanical, monstrous, and intimate. This looping gesture, captured from the artist’s own body, is overlaid with a curtain of binary code: an unreadable confession, a punishment encrypted. Beneath the digits, a form emerges—a face, or perhaps a beast born from habit and repetition.
In Gluetton, the fingers become organs of addiction, wired for frictionless compulsion. Recent medical studies are evoked: scrolling injuries, early-onset joint degeneration, a digital-age arthritis born not from labor, but from endless consumption.
This is the portrait of a new user-species—part mammal, part machine, part captive. The name Gluetton fuses gluttony and glue: a creature stuck in its own hunger. It feeds on feeds. And it cannot stop
La skyline de Manhattan — tranchante, dense, iconique — se révèle être tout autre chose : une forteresse de serveurs de données, verticalement froide, uniformément chiffrée. Sous chaque tour, des larmes numériques tombent, calquées sur l’onde sonore d’un enregistrement réel : la voix de Z affirmant, comme un mantra, que tout ce qu’il fait est « pour le bien du monde ».
Au centre, à peine visible mais reconnaissable entre toutes, la Statue de la Liberté est teintée de rose vif — non plus symbole d’émancipation, mais leurre au cœur du contrôle. L’œuvre détourne la grandeur architecturale de New York en un diagramme carcéral, où chaque gratte-ciel devient cellule, cage de données, entrepôt monétisé de fragments de vie.
Hutches n’est pas une vue urbaine, c’est une machine à confessions, une cartographie de l’effondrement de la liberté en idéologie. Les larmes ne tombent pas seulement des bâtiments. Elles tombent de la croyance elle-même.
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NYC x Z. auto persuasion audio recording x Data servers x Statue of liberty
The skyline of Manhattan—sharp, dense, iconic—reveals itself as something else: a fortress of data servers, coldly vertical, uniformly encrypted. Beneath each tower, digital tears fall, echoing the waveform of a real audio clip: Z’s recorded justification that everything he does is “for the good of the world.”
At the center, barely visible yet unmistakable, stands the Statue of Liberty, colored in bright pink—no longer a symbol of freedom, but a decoy amid control. The piece transforms New York’s architectural grandeur into a carceral diagram, where each skyscraper becomes a hutche, a cage of data, a monetized storage of lives.
Hutches is not just a cityscape—it is a confession machine, mapping the collapse of liberty into ideology. The tears don’t just fall from the buildings. They fall from belief itself.
Old greek x Couch x Laziness economy A neoclassical body, idealised and smooth, reclines on a synthetic throne: the couch. The virility of ancient Greece meets the comfort of the gig economy. This is not a hero resting—it’s a monument to passivity, shaped by hyper-efficiency and over-servicing. Everything is white. Everything is silent. The statue doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t need to. The ‘Uberlazied’ man is no longer a thinker or a warrior, just a user—optimised, idle, aesthetically sterile. The tension lies in this contradiction: divine muscles, sculpted for action, petrified by convenience.
This is the perfect client of the laziness economy. The one who scrolls instead of searching, who orders instead of moving, who clicks instead of acting. The digital giants have no interest in awakening him. His inertia is their business model. As long as he stays seated, he produces: data, engagement, money. A body immobilised, a mind subdued—yet hyperprofitable.
Audio recording Z. at American Congress x Start-up Mantra This work unfolds in two registers. First, as a visual transcription: the tear-shaped forms are not human sorrow, but the soundwave of Z. public apology before the U.S. Congress. No visible emotion. No rupture. Just the smooth, calculated rhythm of a voice designed not to tremble.
Second, as a title—Data Beats Emotion—the phrase echoes a dominant mantra in the startup world. In tech culture, feelings are noise. Growth requires data: measurable, scalable, testable. Emotion is seen as inefficiency—something to simulate perhaps, but never to follow.
By overlapping these layers, the piece reveals a tension: between affect and performance, between sincerity and computation. The tear is not real—it is rendered. And the apology, like the system it represents, is more a metric than a moment.
At first glance, the drawing appears to be a crude sketch of a human brain—nervous, pulsing, alive. But a closer look reveals a different truth: these are the real-world underwater cables that transmit global internet data, linking continents through the ocean floor.
Names like Echo, Jupiter, Grace Hopper, and Curie trace not neurons, but corporate arteries—private infrastructure owned by tech giants, invisible yet vital. Their layout unintentionally mimics a cerebral cortex, forming a new digital nervous system, artificial yet organic in form.
Underwater Private Network Cables questions the anatomy of connection in the 21st century. Are we still the ones thinking—or have these cables begun to think for us? It’s no longer metaphor. It’s structure. The internet is not in the cloud. It’s underwater, wired, mapped—and increasingly privatized. A brain not of flesh, but of fiber.
Cette sculpture cinétique flotte avec délicatesse dans l’espace, mais son élégance dissimule une vérité brutale : chaque forme géométrique reproduit la structure moléculaire exacte de substances addictives — alcool, cocaïne, nicotine, opioïdes. Suspendue comme un mobile d’enfant, l’œuvre détourne son innocence en incarnant les mécanismes biochimiques de la dépendance.
L’équilibre est trompeur : un simple mouvement dérègle l’ensemble, rappelant la fragilité du contrôle neurochimique. La lumière projette des ombres emmêlées, prolongeant l’emprise chimique au-delà de l’objet lui-même.
L’œuvre met en scène l’addiction comme un système, une chorégraphie — silencieuse, belle, et profondément destructrice.
Une innocence perdue
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This kinetic sculpture floats delicately in space, yet its elegance masks a brutal truth: each geometric shape reproduces the exact molecular structure of addictive substances—alcohol, cocaine, nicotine, opioids. Suspended like a child’s mobile, the piece subverts its innocence by embodying the biochemical mechanisms of dependency. The balance is deceptive: a single movement disrupts the whole, echoing the fragile equilibrium of neurochemical control. Light casts tangled shadows, extending the chemical grip beyond the object itself. The work stages addiction as both system and choreography—silent, beautiful, and deeply destructive.
A transparent hand, filled with printed circuitry, holds an immaculate smartphone—yet the screen is blank. No app. No notification. No signal.
This synthetic body-part, part-prosthesis, part-avatar, is not simply a hand: it’s an interface. Designed for the gesture of grasping the device, its entire architecture serves the object it holds. But what happens when the object is hollowed out?
By exposing the internal wiring and rendering the phone as a void, Handroid questions who holds what—or whom. Is the hand using the phone, or is the phone defining the hand? The piece echoes our current state of symbiosis: where the body becomes optimized for digital consumption, and the tool becomes the master.
The future is already here, and it’s holding on tight.
Food Waste x Tomatoe shout sound x Water Waste x WC
The bathroom, a symbol of excess and hygiene, becomes the unlikely greenhouse for a grotesque harvest. Overflowing with lush tomato plants rooted in the bowl of a toilet, this sterile space is transformed into a site of vegetal protest.
Science tells us tomatoes emit ultrasonic cries when stressed by thirst. Here, that finding is turned into a visual scream. Red fruit—ripe, luminous—spills from a place of waste, while water, the most vital resource, leaks and pools in silence.
The installation plays with paradox: food growing from filth, beauty in a site of disposal, plants pleading in frequencies humans cannot hear. The absurdity becomes confrontation.
This is not about growth, but neglect. Not about ecology, but the irony of abundance. A piece where the tomatoes, quite literally, have something to say.
Dopamine synthesis x screen shadows x kids hands x universe x La nuit étoilée
Photo 30 x 40 cm
Des dizaines de petites perforations irrégulières illuminent une surface brun poussiéreux, comme une carte céleste. Pourtant, il ne s’agit pas d’une vision du cosmos, mais d’un plan biochimique : le motif reproduit avec exactitude la synthèse moléculaire de la dopamine, ce neurotransmetteur qui régule nos récompenses, nos pulsions, nos dépendances.
Le carton est tenu par la main d’un enfant — à peine visible, mais essentielle. C’est ce geste qui transforme cette carte de signaux neuronaux en ciel étoilé. Une tension fragile émerge : entre l’innocence du jeu et l’omniprésence du conditionnement comportemental.
La surface est déchirée, imparfaite. La lumière est artificielle. Mais l’évocation est immense. Il ne s’agit pas simplement d’une molécule représentée. C’est un écran — au sens propre comme au figuré — à travers lequel toute une génération voit, ressent, réagit, clique. Une réflexion poétique mais incisive sur la manière dont les environnements numériques détournent, dès l’enfance, nos circuits neurochimiques les plus primitifs.
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Dozens of small, irregular punctures light up a dusty brown surface like a constellation map. Yet this isn’t a view of the cosmos—it’s a biochemical blueprint. The pattern mimics the exact molecular synthesis pathway of dopamine, the neurotransmitter that governs our rewards, urges, and dependencies.
The cardboard is held by a child’s hand—barely visible, but crucial. Their gesture is what transforms this map of neuronal signals into a starry sky. A fragile tension appears: between the innocence of play and the omnipresence of behavioural conditioning.
The surface is torn, imperfect. The light is artificial. But the evocation is vast. This is not just a representation of a molecule. It is a screen—literal and metaphorical—through which an entire generation sees and feels, reacts and clicks. A poetic yet critical reflection on how digital environments hijack primal neurochemical circuits, from childhood on.
At first glance, Dopa resembles a minimalist circuit board: glowing nodes, clean intersections, crisp linearity. But beneath its aesthetic geometry lies a biological deception—this is the biochemical pathway of dopamine synthesis, redrawn in the language of electronic engineering.
By merging molecular biology with digital systems design, Clear Shadows underscores a haunting truth: dopamine—the molecule of pleasure, motivation, reward—is no longer just biological. It has become a product, a KPI, a currency manipulated by algorithms designed to maximize engagement, scroll time, and dependence.
This map is not neutral. It’s a weaponized diagram, a portrait of how Big Tech reengineers human behavior by hacking brain chemistry itself.
Dopa is not just a circuit. It’s a trigger, drawn with surgical precision. You’re not addicted to your phone. You’re addicted to what it’s learned to release.
Essaie de deviner qui sont les points sans étiquette, tu les connais tous !
Cette œuvre se présente comme une carte cérébrale — mais elle fonctionne plutôt comme un miroir. Une neuroéconomie spéculative où le Moi n’est plus un sujet, mais un nœud. Un corps réduit à des besoins primaires : manger, penser, ressentir, jouer, aimer, se reposer. Tous ces élans — légitimes, profondément humains — sont désormais interceptés, détournés, optimisés.
Le canapé n’est pas un confort : c’est un piège. Autour, des nœuds anonymes pulsent en silence des besoins primaires. Mais on peut deviner :
– ce point rose près de Manger pourrait bien être les plateformes de livraison – celui proche de Penser ressemble fort aux moteurs de suggestion IA – celui qui gravite autour de Émotion évoque les algorithmes de recommandation de contenu – le point à peine visible entre Jouer et S’informer pourrait être les plateformes de streaming – et celui niché entre Sexe et Amis chuchote le nom des applis de rencontre ou des réseaux sociaux
Cette cartographie ne montre pas un cerveau, mais un écosystème économique parasitant son hôte. Un monde où chaque besoin fondamental est intermédié, capté, converti en chiffre d’affaires. L’économie de la paresse n’est pas un accident : c’est l’aboutissement du capitalisme numérique — mouvement minimal, conversion maximale.
L’intention ultime serait-elle de nous laisser sur notre canapé à scroller, en remplissant nos besoins primaires virtuellement
Au centre : un individu. À la périphérie : une industrie à plusieurs milliards. Entre les deux : l’érosion lente de l’autonomie… et peut-être de la condition humaine elle-même.
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Try to guess who are unlabelized points!
This work presents itself as a cerebral map—but it operates more like a mirror. A speculative neuroeconomy where Me is no longer a subject, but a node. A body reduced to primal needs: eat, think, feel, play, love, rest. All these impulses—legitimate, human—are now intercepted, diverted, optimised.
The couch is not a comfort; it’s a trap. Around it, unnamed nodes pulse silently. But one can guess: – that pink dot near “Eat” might be food delivery platforms – that one by “Think” could well be AI suggestion engines – the one orbiting “Emotion” seems like content recommendation algorithms – the barely visible node linking “Play” and “Inform” could be streaming platforms – and the one tucked between “Sex” and “Friends” whispers dating apps
This mapping doesn’t just show a brain. It reveals an economic ecosystem parasitising its host. One where every basic human need has been intermediated, captured, converted into revenue. The laziness economy is not accidental—it is the endgame of digital capitalism: minimal movement, maximal conversion.
At the core: an individual. At the periphery: a billion-dollar industry. In between: the slow erosion of autonomy, and perhaps, of the human condition itself.
This seemingly technical layout, reminiscent of a computer motherboard, is in fact the stylised transcription of a portion of the chemical pathway for dopamine synthesis—the neurochemical responsible for reward, motivation and compulsion. The lines and nodes retrace not an electronic signal, but the molecular construction of desire itself.
Beyond biology, this representation highlights how platforms and tech companies have appropriated these neurological circuits. Notification systems in mobile apps have been deliberately engineered to trigger short-term dopamine bursts—designed for immediate satisfaction rather than sustained happiness. The goal is not long-term fulfilment, but repeated engagement, dependence, loops.
Here, chemical formula, interface mechanics and business objectives intersect. If equations could be drawn between dopamine synthesis, tech giants’ retention models, and UX designs exploiting human vulnerability, this piece would be their visual map. What remains of autonomy when emotions are systematically stimulated for profit?
Pharmacy marketing plastic rubish x Light transparency x Low hanging fruit
Plastic sculpture 90 x 50 x 50 cm
Suspendue à une chaîne métallique, cette forme spectrale émerge d’un amas de fragments plastiques transparents — éléments d’étagères jetés, avant même d’être utilisés pour mettre en valeur des produits pharmaceutiques. Des rebuts. Des coproduits produits inutilement. La sculpture flotte comme un fruit contaminé de l’économie moderne : fragile, lumineux, mais saturé des résidus de l’hyperconsommation.
La lumière traverse la structure, projetant un halo chaotique qui révèle la violence invisible des déchets marketing du quotidien. Plastic Tree se dresse comme un monument au cycle de vie invisible de la marchandisation — montrant comment même les structures censées « aider » sont vouées à l’excès, à la pollution, à l’effondrement.
Un fossile de la logique promotionnelle, suspendu dans un silence stérile.
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Suspended by a metal chain, this ghostly form emerges from a mass of transparent plastic fragments—discarded shelving elements once used to promote pharmaceutical products. The sculpture hangs like a contaminated fruit of the modern economy: fragile, luminous, yet saturated with the residues of hyper-consumption. Light penetrates the structure, projecting a chaotic halo that reveals the invisible violence of everyday marketing debris. Plastic Tree stands as a monument to the unseen lifecycle of commodification—how even the structures meant to “help” are wasteful, polluting, and destined to collapse. A fossil of promotional logic suspended in sterile silence.
Trois silhouettes filiformes surgissent dans un mouvement spectral, façonnées en fil de fer torsadé — humanoïdes mais fracturées, comme sculptées en plein spasme. Leurs formes fantomatiques évoquent à la fois la vitalité et la déformation, prises dans une danse sans rythme ni intention.
Dancing Puppets met en scène une chorégraphie du contrôle et du désordre : des corps animés par des forces invisibles, privés de volonté, dansant au rythme d’un algorithme. Ce chaos n’est pas aléatoire — il reflète nos gestes sous des systèmes que nous ne maîtrisons plus.
Ces marionnettes, c’est nous : emmêlés, réactifs, déconnectés, mais synchronisés avec une machinerie devenue trop complexe pour être comprise.
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Three wiry figures emerge in spectral motion, crafted from twisted iron wire—humanoid but fractured, as if sculpted mid-twitch. Their ghostly forms suggest both vitality and distortion, caught in an endless dance without rhythm or intent. Dancing Puppets stages the choreography of control and disarray: bodies animated by invisible forces, stripped of agency, dancing to an algorithmic beat. The chaos is not random—it mirrors our movements under systems we no longer master. These puppets are us: tangled, reactive, disconnected yet in sync with a machinery too complex to grasp.
A rollercoaster, partially submerged, reveals its skeletal structure—once thrilling, now fragile, spectral. This funfair, captured mid-flood, seems paused in an uncanny moment where pleasure is suspended. Yet nothing has truly stopped. The digital twin persists. The metadata of the amusement survives, resumes, profits.
In this ghostly engraving, joy and collapse are superimposed. It’s a snapshot of denial: a society that continues to dance as the water rises. The party pauses for the flood, only to resume, oblivious. The reflection in the water echoes a deeper truth—what we replicate, we refuse to abandon.
The flood isn’t just physical. It’s symbolic of an age that drowns beneath excess, distraction, spectacle. This image reminds us: the architecture of entertainment will always find a way to restart—until it’s too late.
