Arcadia is not a place. It is a passage
A body of plexiglass stands in symmetry.
Light moves across it like memory.
A video pulses above, galaxies collapsing, cells dividing, time folding in on itself.
Everything breathes. Everything breaks. Everything begins again.
Light moves across it like memory.
A video pulses above, galaxies collapsing, cells dividing, time folding in on itself.
Everything breathes. Everything breaks. Everything begins again.
The space surrounds you with sound, movement, projection.
The boundaries blur.
What is body. What is matter. What is illusion.
You are no longer the viewer. You are the vessel.
The boundaries blur.
What is body. What is matter. What is illusion.
You are no longer the viewer. You are the vessel.
This work is a cycle.
Creation. Intimacy. Death. Rebirth.
Not told, but felt through the skin, the ears, the nervous system.
Creation. Intimacy. Death. Rebirth.
Not told, but felt through the skin, the ears, the nervous system.
You are not just watching.
You are inside.
You are inside.