“The Hand That Wouldn’t Die (So We Plugged It In)” is a sculptural parody of the ways we industrialize belief and aestheticize survival. A grotesque hand—part latex creature, part forgotten myth—is connected to a hospital-grade ventilator, obediently rising and falling like it’s rehearsing the script of staying alive.
The piece takes the visual grammar of emergency medical care and warps it into speculative theatre. Set in an open roadside scene, the contradiction is loud: we’re pumping oxygen into fiction, granting afterlife to obsolete monsters. It could be Godzilla, capitalism, toxic masculinity, or your favorite childhood myth—pick your beast.
This isn’t a tribute. It’s a mechanical farce. A breathing apparatus for our collective refusal to pull the plug on outdated power structures, fantasies, and mythologies. We’ve medicalized nostalgia, streamlined denial, and made coping look cinematic.
