Posts

Unlock the Cosmos: Why the Obsidian/Ember Interface Will Make Your Space a Sci-Fi Sanctuary (And How It Saved My Sanity)

Imagine staring at your wall... and feeling the universe stare back.   Not with judgment. With invitation . A fractal star, laser-etched in obsidian black, pulsing with ember interfaces that whisper: "You're not stuck in this dimension. Leap." That's the Obsidian/Ember Interface. Not just art. A filament core —your personal warp gate to cosmic clarity. For $55 NZD, it arrives ready-to-hang, transforming blank walls into black holes of inspiration. If you're a sci-fi soul (Dune deep-diver? Cyberpunk 2077 grinder? Just a human craving stars over screensavers), this is your sign. Keep reading—I built this piece from my own "creative void" nightmare. By the end, you'll wonder how you lived without it.   Secure your portal now.   The Black Hole in Your Space (The Pain That Started It All) Let's get real. You're here because something's off . Your office feels like a cubicle cryo-pod: Beige walls sucking the life out of your 9-to-5. No wond...

Your Office Thinks It’s Immortal. This Wheel of Rust Just Rolled In to Laugh at That

Image
Your headquarters looks like it still believes the servers will never go down, the valuation will only go up, and the espresso machine will keep frothing forever. Cute. Adorable, even. Like a golden retriever that hasn’t realized it’s fourteen. Meanwhile, reality has been sending gentle reminders in the form of outages, layoffs, and that one viral tweet from a sixteen-year-old who just shorted your entire sector for lulz. Enter stage left: the artistic equivalent of a polite cough in a quiet room. Digital Industrial Art: Abstract Symmetrical Wheel (“sorry to interrupt your delusion, champ”) Imagine the most perfect cybernetic mandala ever designed by a Victorian engineer who mainlined Red Bull and existential dread. Now let it sit in an abandoned data center for twenty years. Let the rust crawl across chrome like orange mold on wedding cake. Let the neon filaments stutter like a GPU on its last prayer. Freeze that exact moment and stretch it to six-and-a-quarter feet of framed “me...

Accession Note | Z3VIOS

Image
" Machine Core: Nanobot Abstraction " 2025 - z3vios (M J TEKA) Acrylite-faced archival pigment print.  Acquired for immediate placement in forward-thinking corporate and private collections. One does not merely “hang” this work. One submits the wall to it. At first encounter the viewer confronts an icosahedral monolith of liquid titanium (twenty perfect facets, each a mirror that refuses flattery).  The geometry is absolute, almost arrogant in its Platonic certainty. Then the infection reveals itself: a subcutaneous lattice of arterial crimson and molten magma-orange filaments, self-replicating across the metallic skin like a trillion von Neumann probes discovering the pleasures of flesh. This is not a depiction of the post-human. This is the post-human gazing back, amused, already halfway through metabolizing the frame. Chiaroscuro is weaponised here : rim-lighting carves the polyhedron from an abyss so pure it feels vacuum-sealed, while internal bioluminescent pulses (s...

The One Artwork Your Executive Floor Is Missing (and How It Pays for Itself)

Image
You’ve closed eight-figure deals, built a company that moves markets, and still, when a Fortune-500 client walks into your headquarters, the first thing they see is… a blank wall the color of cheap printer paper. That silence is expensive. It quietly undermines every signal of permanence, taste, and forward-thinking authority you’ve spent decades constructing. In under three seconds, the subconscious verdict is rendered: “Successful, yes. Visionary? Not quite.” There is a fix, and it’s simpler—and far more profitable—than you think. Introducing “An Ornate Study in Shadow and Light” This is not another mass-produced hotel-lobby print. This is a museum-grade, made-to-order masterwork that feels like it was commissioned for a 14th-century banking house that somehow discovered quantum physics. Imagine a vast gothic vault rendered in absolute obsidian and charcoal. Ribbed arches and impossibly intricate geometries recede into infinity, interrupted only by needle-thin blades of pure li...

Doctor Tee T-shirt Giveaway Project

 I have attained some competency, perhaps even proficiency in my t-shirt designs creation-work. So, I'm able and fortunate to be able to procure copies - actual t-shirts with my designs on them and give them away via my facebook page competitions. I also have the doctor tee dot co dot nz web domain, web site. https://www.doctortee.co.nz  

The Evolution of Punk Culture: A Detailed Synopsis

Punk culture, originally rooted in rebellion, counterculture, and anarchy, has undergone a fascinating metamorphosis over the decades.  What began as an anti-establishment movement in music and fashion has since fractured and evolved into a kaleidoscope of subgenres, each reflecting shifts in technology, philosophy, and society.  Below is a detailed breakdown of how punk culture has transformed across different eras, leading to the emergence of new 'punk' subgenres. 1. Steampunk – The Dawn of Retro-Futuristic Punk (Late 20th Century - Present)  Steampunk, one of the earliest and most widely recognized punk subgenres, emerged as a fusion of Victorian-era aesthetics with speculative technology. Rooted in the works of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, Steampunk envisions a world where steam power, brass machinery, and elaborate mechanical contraptions define society. Key Characteristics: Victorian and Edwardian-era influence with gears, cogs, and steam-powered inventions. Air...

The Pulse Beneath the Grid: Datapunk-Hypergrid Fiction

The hypergrid hums, a ceaseless hymn of steel and neon threading through the sprawl of New Ashkarr. Towers claw at a sky choked with ash, their veins pulsing with data—lifeblood of a civilization that forgot how to breathe. Kael Vorn is no one here, a shadow among shadows, a design monster who once shaped the grid’s arteries. Now he’s a ghost, scraping by in the undergrid, where the discarded rust of progress festers. He doesn’t sleep much; the hum won’t let him. It’s in his skull, a rhythm that syncs with the flicker of his cracked dataslate, its screen a fractured mirror of his mind. Tonight, the hum shifts—a glitch, a stutter. Kael notices it while splicing a dead node in Sector 7’s gutter-maze. The grid doesn’t stutter. It’s too perfect, too absolute.   He pulls the slate closer, fingers tracing code that shouldn’t be there: a string of glyphs, jagged and alive, pulsing like a heartbeat. It’s not a virus—it’s older, rawer, a whisper from something the grid buried.   His gu...