The Cage

In The Cage, the human presence appears as a contained climate rather than a face. There is a body that moves, crosses thresholds, stands in places where life and money circulate, but its inner weather feels held in suspension and lit from above. The box is less a prop than a portable atmosphere: a small private zone carried through areas of transit, commerce and culture that continue as if nothing were happening.

Objects slip into the figure’s hand like small negotiations with the world: fragments of luck, consumption, comfort or refusal. They behave almost like currencies offered to the outside while the person remains elsewhere, inhaling their own sealed breath. The Cage traces a form of social automation in which appearance keeps moving on schedule, yet attention and vulnerability stay locked away, visible only as a faint glow around an opaque surface.