Emerging as relics of industrial intimacy—splicing the brutalist form of welding gloves with cutting techniques inspired from the study of malformed hands.
The stitching is fragile, threadbare in places, barely containing the weight of what it holds. Over this tenuous structure, a tar-like coating spreads, accelerating decay. The rough surface resists familiarity, its texture suggestive of chemical danger, a carcinogenic sheen that clings like residue.
This is not protection—it’s exposure.
A paradoxical exoskeleton where the crude and the careful collide, where every gesture becomes a negotiation between collapse and control. The hand becomes artifact, from form into formlessness.
A diagram of waste, leaking into reality.
What Breaks is What Drives.
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