The images presented here stem from research and exploration. They do not constitute the realization of the work; in my practice, the proposal itself serves as the work.
Cloud
An infinite hand-drawn doodle that never stops growing. Each piece connects to all the others. It signs every one of my works, it inhabits them. You don't collect CLOUD — you own a fragment of it.
Paul Lia — "1 or 0?"
An AI escapes into the real world and asks every human he meets one question: "1 or 0?" - because it's all he knows.
Hanse
A horse harness, held taut in an empty space. No horse. No rider. Just the tension of the object as proof that something exists without being seen.
International Bureau of Conceptual Certification (IBCC)
A real institution that certifies ideas that don't exist yet. For €42, you get an official stamp proving your concept is real. Whether it's art, bureaucracy, or both is entirely up to you.
Ghế Đỏ Protocol
Buried in a mountain of red plastic stools, I become a human algorithm: grabbing stickers at random, applying them without thinking, sliding the finished stool to whoever just paid. The protocol runs. I don't stop.
DJ Protocol
Every booking is a prompt. I receive a brief, I process it, I generate the output. Look, playlist, attitude, all determined by the client's parameters. When the set ends, the identity disappears. What remains is a USB drive: numbered, dated, archived. One performance, one object, one dead identity.
La Phase Burger King
After hundreds of unanswered applications to galleries and residencies, I applied to Burger King. If they take me, I get photographed in uniform like a celebrity caught working the fryer. If they reject me, even that falls through. Either way, it's a work.
Recette pour Paul Lia
Memory chips as clams, frayed circuits as spaghetti, accumulated dust as sea salt. This series turns old electronic components into recipes for an AI that feeds on human memories. You can buy the recipe, or cook it yourself with your own hardware.
Error 404 Artist not found
Every unanswered email, every ignored application, every silence automatically generates a new error. The counter has been running since 1988. It never stops. Visitors can take a sticker home: one fragment of failure, yours to keep.
Last Phone
A teenager's old phone, recovered just before the end of the world. Inside: diary entries, fragments of thought. A fossil of someone who didn't know yet.
Reincarnations
Each copy of my novel has its own history: one absorbed humidity at a book fair, another was rejected by a library, one is missing its last page, sealed in an envelope that must never be opened. Every book is a unique artwork. Every book is trying to survive.
Stuff légendaire LVL999
Toy weapons found during my travels, transformed into legendary video game artifacts. Overloaded, unusable, each one comes with its own stat sheet: enchantments, special powers, damage output. Objects that only existed as pixels, finally made physical.