The act of extending our selves with technologies we create has been fundamental in the trajectory of humans. We do not simply use our tools: as we create them, they also create us, modify us, shape us.
I'm interested in the nature of this entanglement we are in with our machines, this relationship: the cyborg condition. This condition, while not new, is certainly accelerating, and I find myself struggling sometimes to still sense a boundary between myself and my machines.

The first part of this project was a way of reasserting this distance: I developed a working font which humans can read, but machines cannot.

In the second part, I gathered seven short texts I'd written describing personal and visceral emotions about my relationship with machines into a zine. The zine was set in Adversarial Mono, printed in risograph in 25 copies and hand-bound.

There is no information in the zine that needs to be hidden from the machines (in any interpretation of the idea). Why, then, so many layers of removal? A font they can't read, a text that devolves towards almost body horror, a printed object that cannot become training data, a tactility they cannot register? I came to realize this project isn't so much about shutting the machines out as about trying to find a sense of allyship with the other humans.

With the zine in their hands, I asked the audience to turn to each other, and to each choose a text for the other to read to them. Finally, I invited them to contribute to an open document (projected overhead for the duration of the exhibition) and leave their own message, for human eyes only.