Mike's Hypermodern Musings

" 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 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...