077 – 079 — 2026
Three pieces about presence. A warm glow behind glass that breathes too slowly to see. A world that grows from words you type. Sunlight on a wall that moves with your clock.
077 waits to be found. 078 needs your language. 079 needs your time — it runs at the speed of the actual sun, all day, and goes dark when the sun does. They have in common that they’re here with you, right now, in your room.
A near-black screen with a faint warm glow at its center. The glow breathes — expanding and contracting over three minutes. The breathing is too slow to see. The viewer discovers the warmth, and then maybe, after sitting long enough, discovers it’s alive. 47 lines. The quietest piece in the series.
Type a phrase. Press Enter. A world grows from it. Hundreds of painters follow a flow field seeded by your words — the same phrase always makes the same world. Some produce organic landscapes, some bilateral symmetry, some crystalline rotational forms. The words appear at center and fade as the world replaces them. The world keeps evolving. Type again.
type a phrase
keyboard required
Sunlight in a room. The position, color, edge softness, and shape of the light come from the viewer’s local clock. Not compressed time — real time. Amber at dawn, near-white at noon, golden in the afternoon, dark at night. The first piece in the series that takes all day. Redraws every three seconds. The change between frames is imperceptible.