Some days feel like they need to be ripped apart. Today is one of those days.
I took a recent Fantastic Four comic, tore it to pieces, and rearranged the wreckage into something new—something barely holding itself together. No glue, no permanence. Just a mess of fragmented storylines, frozen for a moment before I brush it all away.
There’s something cathartic about this. The fire, the impact, the tension of overlapping panels—everything exploding but still contained in the frame.
We live in a world teetering between chaos and control, desperately clinging to illusions that help us make sense of it all. This poem explores the breakdown—of thought, of soul, of society—when those illusions falter, and we scramble for something, anything, to restore order.
Poem
There’s a certain amount of illusion we must maintain,
the mania necessary to keep us from the edge—
the reality of nihilism, our existence on the brink of what?
This piece continues my exploration of fragmentation and reconstruction, using a recent Fantastic Four comic as the foundation. Accentuated by spear-like shapes crafted from Pokémon cards, the sharp lines radiate outward, creating a dynamic interplay between disarray and cohesion.
The spears, in their form and direction, guide the eye through the chaos, punctuating the collision of vibrant comic art and nostalgic elements. Each shard feels like a story in motion, refracted through layers of texture and meaning.
There’s a point where the lines blur—between human and machine, connection and disconnection, the organic and the artificial. We rush forward in a world governed by code and algorithms, often forgetting the fragile, broken pieces of the humanity we leave behind. This poem is a reflection of that tension, a meditation on what we’re losing in the pursuit of progress.
We missed God
in the poor man,
with broken—
No. 31
This is the 31st piece in an ongoing series of abstract collages, each meticulously crafted from fragments of Pokémon cards and constrained to their original size.
The pocket monster, reconfigured.
This particular piece is composed of fragments from the three stages of one Pokémon’s evolutionary chain: Horsea, Seadra, and Kingdra. Even if you know the game, you might not easily recognize the progression here. All three Pokémon are present, but they’ve been remixed—fractured, rearranged, and reshaped into something entirely new.
Preface
This piece is a meditation on the absurdity of progress and its unintended consequences. It asks: as we hurtle forward into the digital age, what do we leave behind? What do we become? It’s about the contradictions of innovation—our dreams of utopia shadowed by exploitation, the sins of our creations, and the weight of forgetting. Here lies a reflection on the Anthropocene inverted, where the machines may win, but at what cost?
This space is a gathering ground for everything that shakes loose from upstairs—poetry, design, and all the creative oddities I find myself weaving. A microblog of musings, sketches, and verse: a unified space for the scattered, the sharp, the abstract.
I don’t promise answers, just echoes. I don’t promise clarity, just a little chaos.
Let’s see what forms.