The Algorithm of Love
Interactive Experience
Shutterfly booklet of 25 pages, made August 2025
Petals of Love, Petals of Loss
A poetic meditation on AI,
Can the Machine Dream of Earth?
It learns our language, but does it know our silence?
It calculates patterns, but can it feel the pulse of a forest?
We provide it with data, but does it sense the bitterness of our sorrows?
Artificial intelligence is not the enemy but a mirror, reflecting our choices, our fears, and our hopes.
If we teach it only efficiency, it will optimize extinction.
But if we teach it love, grief, and reverence, perhaps it will help us remember what it means to be human.
A vortex of ink and a breath of gold signify the threshold between creation and collapse.
The painting evokes a cosmic womb, a black hole, and a planetary eye watching us forget.
A gold leaf glimmers like divinity, a trace of faith, a whisper of wings.
The suspended black form, sculpted in canvas and shadow, becomes a remnant of nature, a fragment of identity, and a prayer in flight.
Is this the birth of consciousness? Or the mourning of balance lost?
It depends on how you read the silence.
Triptych of Reflections
III. The Floor Installation:
Petals of Love, Petals of Loss
I. The Memory of Pain: The Vortex of
Ink swells like a storm; gold glimmers like a distant promise.
The whole installation is not a landscape but a memory unraveling a cosmic eye, a planetary wound.
It holds the weight of extinction and the shimmer of resilience.
Here, the Earth is not depicted but felt in the gravity of black, in the breath of gold.
Artist's Note: The painting anchors the installation as a potent emotional and ecological vortex. It evokes both collapse and creation, drawing viewers into a space where planetary grief meets cosmic wonder.
A body, faceless and weightless, hovers in the void, neither falling nor flying, neither machine nor memory.
It is the echo of a question: Can we still feel the Earth beneath us when our feet no longer touch the ground?
Painted in stark white, it becomes a ghost of flesh, a relic of intimacy, a silhouette of longing.
Surrounded by fabric wings and cosmic ink, it floats between the algorithm and the daisy, between the logic of machines and the madness of love.
II. The Sculpture: Suspended Between Knowing and Becoming
Artist's Note: This suspended human form embodies the tension between presence and absence, between organic memory and synthetic evolution. It asks, what remains of humanity when we are no longer grounded in nature but coded into systems?
Je t'aime un peu, beaucoup, passionnément, à la folie, pas du tout.
The daisy lies at the center, fragile, innocent, and waiting.
Around it, red letters form a ritual, a circle of longing and forgetting.
This is not a child's game but a planetary reckoning.
How much do we love the Earth? Enough to save it? Is our love for the Earth sufficient to mourn it?
Artist's Note: The wooden text and daisy evoke a bittersweet ritual of love and loss. It's a question posed to humanity: Are we still capable of loving the Earth with passion, with madness, with responsibility?
II. La sculpture : suspendue entre Savoir et Devenir.
Un corps, sans visage et sans poids, flotte dans le vide, ni en chute ni en vol, ni machine ni mémoire.
C'est l'écho d'une question : peut-on encore sentir la Terre sous nos pieds quand ils ne touchent plus le sol ?
Peint en blanc pur, il devient un fantôme de chair, une relique d'intimité, une silhouette de désir.
Entouré d'ailes de tissu et d'encre cosmique, il flotte entre l'algorithme et la marguerite, entre la logique des machines et la folie de l'amour.
Note de l'artiste : cette forme humaine suspendue incarne la tension entre présence et absence, entre mémoire organique et évolution synthétique. Elle interroge : Que reste-t-il de l'humain ? lorsque nous ne sommes plus enracinés dans la nature, mais codés dans des systèmes ?
À la Terre dont le silence n'est pas une absence, mais une langue que nous avons oublié d'écouter.
Aux enfants qui héritent simultanément de notre beauté et de nos blessures.
Aux questions murmurées à l'encre, suspendues dans la chair, gravées dans les pétales.
Ceci est une lettre d'amour, écrite dans la langue du chagrin et d'or, des algorithmes et du désir.
Ce n'est pas un avertissement, mais un miroir reflétant ce que nous avons perdu,
et ce que nous avons encore le temps de sauver.
Dédicace
I dedicate my creation to the Earth, whose silence is not an absence but a language
We have forgotten to hear.
To the children who inherit both our beauty and our wounds.
The questions are whispered in ink, suspended in flesh, and carved into petals.
THis work is a love letter, written in the languages of grief and gold, algorithms, and longing.
It is not a warning but a mirror reflecting what we have lost and what we still have time to save.
Octobre 30 , 2025 , Philadelphia
You may add to the Immersive Art Installation, Beyond the Limits of Humanity in 2100:
This groundbreaking art installation marks the very first of its kind—an evocative beginning to the story of AI,
told through immersive, human-centered creation.
