The Tool Was Always a Nervous System

I wanted to show that limb, interface, and device were never separate—so I split a face, a hand, and a phone into floating shards and then entangled them with a cold, razor-edged prism that refracts impossible warm geometries back into their skins. I chose porcelain-cracked skin, bone with fiber-optic veins, and a scuffed titanium-glass slab, all cross-cut by a paradox prism whose facets pour terracotta and aged gold into places biology didn’t plan for. In one overlapping patch, I force three temporal layers—pre-residue, active strike, and healed scar—to rewrite each other at once, so the viewer feels the ecstatic vertigo of a boundary dissolving into a larger self they already were.