群組

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The Hapticity of Being explores existence as something felt before it is understood. The face emerges not as identity but as surface—granular, burdened, fragmented by color and shadow. Space curves into a tangible corridor where forms hang suspended like sensations waiting to be registered. The path curves forward, inviting movement, not toward meaning but toward contact. Colors here are not symbols; they are pressure, temperature, and resistance to perception. The suspended spheres act as interruptions, reminding us that touch is never continuous, only fragmented. This work suggests that being is not primarily visual or rational, but haptic: known through proximity, texture, and embodied presence. Consciousness becomes a surface landscape where existence is confirmed not by reflection but by the friction between self, space, and the silent matter that shapes it.

This is not a cry of emotion but the cry of a structure that has lost its sense of existence. The eye, immersed in architecture, does not observe the world—it registers its cracks. Stairs lead nowhere, into the depths of an empty form, where light becomes a wound, not hope. Trees grow from geometry like nerves from a dead body, tearing apart an order that was meant to be permanent. This space is a record of consciousness after the loss of a subject: a thought persists, but the one who uttered it is no longer there. The cry does not flow down the cheek—it crumbles the stone, shatters the structure, and transforms memory into a landscape that exists only because it cannot disappear.

Orange morality emerges as a suspended condition, neither innocent nor condemned. Figures glow with borrowed warmth, stripped of faces, reduced to ethical silhouettes. A blackened tree pierces the crowd, its branches bearing fruit like warnings, verdicts, or quiet witnesses. The orange stains suggest responsibility without redemption, visibility without voice. Individuals stand together yet isolated, bound by a shared color rather than a shared conscience. This is morality as signal: loud, simplified, imposed. It marks bodies for judgment, not understanding, turning ethics into spectacle and complexity into shadow. Memory fades, nuance dissolves, and silence grows heavy as the forest of choices hardens into symbols that accuse, divide, and endure beyond those who briefly carried them through history’s unlit corridors of fear alone.

Abandoned architecture intertwines with the eye of memory; the silence of the walls preserves traces of a life that still looks on, though it has disappeared.