DCF 7318 was discovered by field techs trapped in a collapsed building. This hybrid uses a foetal unit for data collection and uplink. While the biomech base utiliising a former living skull is an operational syncaster. The gray matter was resusitated and used to broadcast corrupt Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, Theta signals to render a local population inert. Techs wore Faraday suits and neutralised the broadcast. The foetal unit will be flashed and integrated into Institute infrastructure.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #horror #sculpture #art #scifiart #cyberpunkart

Ansibles of the 50's were doubleplus class and stylewise. Now the State prefers functionwise over iconic looks.

#sculpture #art #scifi #sciencefiction #scifiart #functionalart

"Good art does not ask to be remembered.

It makes forgetting impossible."

I just said this and, I think, it is kind of profound. Funny how, when you say it out loud, it finally takes form.

#art #fineart #philosophy #thunking #ideas #POV

RE: https://sfba.social/@giantspecks/117010578837716422

Try and unsee this. I double dare you. Not that you'd want to anyway.

2 years flew by. Poof. Gone. Magic time loss.

#scifi #sciencefiction #art #sculpture #cyberpunk #fineart #artshow #soloartshow s

My setup at the CONvergence art gallery this past week.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #sculpture #mixedmedia

If you're in MPLS at CONvergence stop by the art gallery. If not, here's a 3D look.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #art #sculpture #art #biomech #scifiart #sciencefictionart #cyberpunkart #mixedmediaart

NIX 42124

Found just outside a remote consciousness research facility. This area was never attacked much during the Conflict, but, like everywhere else, resources eventually devastated the infrastructure and population. The facility was a cell focused on permanent containment of a viable consciousness.

The INSTITUTE's early report indicate thi s mech was an experimental prototype utilising some tech later implemented in vessel containment. Current status on full independence is unknown.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #scifiart #sculpture #scfiart

If you are in MPLS this week for CONvergence, stop by to see NIX.

Artists... lets talk. I'm not going to demean you by calling you creators. That term has been soiled with the stain of seo algorithms. While artists create, I've never thought of the creation, in my hands, as art.

Art is the moment someone connects. Someone looks, hears, touches, tastes, interacts with the work and something in them says: "Yes, this is me too." Whatever their journey, not just the time, but the pain and joy, the failure and learning, the self loathing and pride, that's what they brought to it too.

And the work, the gap filler between us, we call that art because it is the relationship and connection between us.

This is a truth that the universe holds for us all. We are not monuments that stand tall in time. We are the ebb and flow from one event, or person, or time to another. Our synapses are reforming as I write and you read this. They are not immutable, they are fluid. Memory is not laser etched in platinum, it is the telling and retelling, the truth and the interpretations of truth, that rest in our minds, but things we cannot touch or own.

Our art is a mirror to our reality. Not just ontologically or physically, it follows the same pattern of quantum physics. Our reality's only constant is flux. The only substance is the relationship between one form of energy and another. Nothing fills the gap and yet uncountable nothings in Planck space create the mountains of Mars or the gas swirls in a nebula.

A monument erodes, falls, and is forgot. Laughably inane in the face of time and physics. But the tiniest of perturbations can create waves that collapse a galaxy.

We relate, we create, we make nothing that is permanent. But the tiniest amounts of our time can form relationships that withstand all barriers, even time. Those waves of connection often seem so insignificant we spend no time thinking of them. Yet they can create new interactions, new paths, create new realities that supersede any possible version of our lives we could have imagined.

Don't stop making your work. No matter how noncommercial, or worthless, how much time it wasted. Make work that has the most profoundly connected ties to who you truly are. Not what I want to see. Not what you expect will sell. Make work that is extracted and excised from the core of you and all that you ever are.

And then, let it go completely. Let the work find a path. Connect to one other person. Let is create the tiniest of waves in this reality.

It is only in being true and being released from our imagined ownership that we can truly create. Somewhere in time someone else will find that connection. In that moment, true, profound, meaningful change can become reality.

I am compltely shit at capitalism. I used to think of this as a failure. But the older I get the more I feel it to be wise, perhaps even noble.

40k years ago someone began painting in a cave in France. SEO, data metrics, click monetisation, focused traffic nodes, all of that is absurdly laughable in relationship to that person or their art. In 40k more years, some thinking thing will look in awe the same way I do, the same way that aritist did, and our personal nows will overlap as we touch with this conjoined grace. Capitalism cannot monetise our humanity or our timeless curiosity.

I think of all the other nows that were there for only one observer. How heartbreakingly beautiful they are.

Imagine every quiet triumph that nobody saw.

An old woman who remembered a song for the last time.

A child who found a perfect stick.

A mechanic who fixed that misfire after three days working on it and quietly smiled.

A soldier who looked at the stars one last time.

The cave painter who stepped back and thought, "That's good."

No witnesses. No record.
Just a single awareness meeting a single moment. Then it vanished forever.

There's something almost unbearable about that thought to me.

But those nows are not dimished by the lack of audience. They existed for that person who found meaning in them.

Money is not validation or measure of greatness or a measure of our humanness. Those moments, those nows, only requires an experiencer.

We've become so accustomed to external validation that we forget most of human history happened without anyone documenting it.

The overwhelming majority of lives have left no record at all.

And yet those lives contained first kisses, arguments, laughter, grief, embarrassment, curiosity, music, sunsets, jokes, failures, moments of transcendence.

They weren't less real because nobody archived them. They didn't have less meaning to the experiencer becuse there was no click through metric.

Those people were... are... valid, human, beautifu, meaningful because they existed.

We impose structure and use metrics to validate and say we have meaning, constructs that have no bearing on this unverise and its existance... on our existance. The only value I have is in this moment, in this now. And the only person who can gauge the worth is me.

And sometimes we can reach through time. We needen't shout: "I WAS HERE!" But instead we should yell into the void: "I KNOW YOU WERE HERE TOO!!!" There's no profit, no need for it, just the timelessness of being human.

Meaning doesn't require an audience.
It only requires an experiencer.

RE: https://defcon.social/@R_3_T_3_C_H/116710095015334014

Boosting my own work. I'm really happy with how the environment shots turned out.

Thank you @toddz for posting this.

First contact: OMEGA 137BR
(additional images)

The Omegas were a group of anti-state rule subversives. Using available supply and working in disconnected pods, they plus sought to achieve consciousness transfer.

This unit appears doubleplus success with fully operationalwise functions.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #transhumanism #bodyhorror #biomech #art #sculpture #mixedmedia #scifiart #cyberpunkart

First contact: OMEGA 137BR

The Omegas were a group of anti-state rule subversives. Using available supply and working in disconnected pods, they plus sought to achieve consciousness transfer.

This unit appears doubleplus success with fully operationalwise functions.

#scifi #sciencefiction #cyberpunk #biomech #art #sculpture #mixedmedia #scifiart #cyberpunkart

RE: https://mastodon.social/@iamgerardthomas/116547116378567783

I missed this, but here I am now.

Sometimes, I am not really sure why I post anymore. A long time ago in a net long since forgot, there were people, many many people, and some corporations. The only reason a corp had a site was to put contact info, like to get in touch with live humans, or their pdf catalogues, or sometimes current events and or sales. And people, the mavericks, the geeks, the artists, the uni people, were reaching out to find others who had similarities.

But that was then, this is now. Every fucking click is monetised. No one is sure who is online for what reasons so it is best to remain guarded or behind walled gardens where your group is half AI bots and some irate and often conspiracy drunk idiots.

In those olde times, I met more people globally than I could ever hope to now. So many topics and groups that it was fun to chat and learn. See new art, find people doing research in areas I liked... you know actual humans that wanted to find other living actual humans. It wasn't about money, ego, or subversion.

I miss that. And I detest this now.

So I put out my art to make connections, however rare. I have no way online to purchase any of my work. I have not sold anything online for nearly 15yrs now. I fight against this current reality so hard that it is nearly impossible to search for either myself or my art. I actively push against the shit. No search engines have me indexed, at least nothing more recent than 8yrs ago. Even that is very difficult to find.

I assume, at this point, that I will only grow more reclusive as this corp shithole wants more and more of my data. I say, often, that I will give them nothing because they've made billions off my data, I've made nothing. As this gets more aggressive, I just slip further and further in a life completely without digital communication. It's a choice. It's a hill I've chosen to die and be forgot upon.

But part of me still reaches out. Maybe someone will like the art, like the stories, find connection, find a few minutes of respite in an otherwise monetised nightmare.

Side note: The site grows ever more complicated. It is a long labyrinth of the art and associated stories told in a non-linear way. It has hidden easter eggs that you can find but remember you so they will never appear again. It randomises much of that hidden stuff two so that no two people can have the same experience. Huge amounts of hidden messages and codes. It is a labour of artistic love for the scant 2-3 humans who find it and enjoy it a year. In 2000, my peak traffic year, I got 31,000 humans a month on average. I never charted to see how many were repeats. Never separated bot from human, but, lets face it, there were nearly no bots or even search engines doing much indexing. As the shitshow grew that traffic died. Too many things actively stealing attention and precious minutes. Too many things I have no intention on competing with. Since, to do so, you have to become them. FB and IG marketing, coordinated socials posting, automated regular posting, automated replies to keep up with it. That's not human. That's not connecting. That's just stealing some of their minutes so they have less of a life and you have a falsely inflated ego.

I will die poor, unknown, and long forgot in this mess. But I will die as my own person with my own art that never became a tool for the broligarchs.

This world houses less than 4k billionaires along with 8 billion other humans.

I am not one of the 4k.

I was born with a finite number of minutes. They are the only things of value in my existence. I trade those minutes for health, joy, education, love, strife, pain, relaxation, art, and so much more.

Capitalism has put a dollar value on my minutes. When we say things like "I had nothing better to do with my time." or "I wasn't doing anything worth while." We are repeating a lie capitalism has trained us to believe. Even if we think we were doing nothing, we were relaxing, loving, learning, laughing, resting, living.

If these minutes had no value, then they, the 4k, would not have built financial fortresses by taking them from us. Those cute games, the endless scrolling of pure shit, collecting our data to find more holes to bleed more of our minutes.

They are where they are by taking our "valueless" minutes.

I cannot possibly have less of a voice in this world. I cannot be more valueless. I cannot have less impact on the arc of human culture or progression. Yet they continue to want more of my minutes. I can, however, keep my minutes from them and use them how I alone want to. This is necessary.

I refuse to offer them my data; I block it at every turn. I do not use their services. I do not subscribe to their products or conveniences. I offer conflicting info when forced to comply. I push to keep my life my own.

They have no right to my life, to my minutes. They became billionaires by taking our minutes, we did not.