In the digital afterlife, privacy is no longer something you protect—it’s something that outlives you.
This installation visualizes a contemporary contradiction: our obsession with documenting life collides with our fading control over it. Enclosed within a pristine triangular prism of glass, a flickering monitor quietly loops fragments of personal archives—mundane footage, casual scrolls, unremarkable clicks. It is cold, clinical, inert. Yet it feels familiar.
Surrounded by beams of refracted projection light, the device appears sacred, like a reliquary built not for saints but for search histories. Nothing here is truly private anymore—not even in death. The glass is see-through, the data persistent. This project questions our evolving relationship with ownership, memory, and surveillance.
As legacy becomes algorithm and mourning turns to metadata, we’re left wondering:
Will we be remembered—or simply rendered?
