---- 2015
1115 HeptaLink, Hong Kong

09-11 Wolf+Lamb, NY

---- 2014
---- 2013

1003-25 Tournament, NY


08 AirShipOne, NV

0610 Starfish, NY
0525-0818 Nexxt, NJ
0307 Bracelet SxSW, TX
---- 2012

11-12 Rafale, LA

10 RRC, NJ
0914 Wolf+Lamb, NYC
0825 Drop, BRC
06 ACR, NJ
05 Country Club, NY
05 BLB, NY
0419 Blue Man Group

0308 Cockpit SxSW

0308 Starfish SxSW

0303 GT Blow, NYC

0101 Starfish, NYC
---- 2011
0830 Drop, BRC
0830 Cuddlefish, BRC
0806 Cuddlefish, Hamptons

0310 Cuddlefish SxSW

---- 2010
1201 Drop, Miami
1023 RRC Show, NJ
1009 StarFish PDF, DE
0915 Blow LV, CA
0901 Drop, Nevada
0901 CuddleFish, NV
0718 Secret Garden, UK
0704 CuddleFish, PEX
0619 Opulent Temple, NYC

0612 Figment, NYC

0320 Matelasse, NYC
---- 2009
---- 2008
---- 2007
---- 2006
---- 2005
---- 2004
---- 2003
---- 2002
---- 2001

Texts & Drawings

Note: Dimensions are approximate.

Inflatable Life
by Anakin Koenig

In the relatively short life of the inflatables that I built there are a couple of unique moments, poetic and unsettling at the same time.

Living the first inflation from inside the structure is one of those moments. As soon as the structure is inflated enough to pierce it and cut the first entrance, generally less than half a minute after the fan has been turned on, it is possible to get inside comfortably, without crawling and, maybe because of the noticeable expansion of the space, without claustrophobic sensation.

From a pranayama perspective it's witnessing the birth of this structure, disturbingly, from inside the one being born. The first breath, the first intake of this big lung, the immaculate inside, the strong smell of plastic, everything here screams: primal.

It is a very intimate moment. 100% of my field of vision is filled with the structure. Anywhere I look, the structure is all I can see. My visual range is suddenly reduced. This immersive experience is so intense that I almost have trouble breathing. Technically I can inhale but the fact that I am abruptly presented with an unusual and overwhelming context makes me react in a way that reminds me of the first time I went snorkeling. I just have a hard time believing that I can breathe in such an environment. The panic doesn't last long.

Being isolated in this chamber makes me aware of the slight air movement that I might not have noticed in a regular situation. Suddenly as my senses are deprived of the usual bombardment of stimuli they grab anything they can and their first self-assigned job is to determine whether the incoming air is cool or warm. I have the feeling of being alternatively hot and cold, very fast. As this temperature issue fades away the air strikes me as being of an unusual nature. I can feel it. There is a flow. This flow is constant, without fluctuations, dead regular and almost imperceptible.

"senses are deprived of the usual bombardment of stimuli"
This voluntary immersion into a closed environment providing a stimulus shortage and immediately resulting in awareness enhancement makes this experience the instant-gratification (and disturbing-physical-changes-free) version of Eddie Jessup's (William Hurt) experiences in Ken Russell's 1980 movie Altered States.

The seam between the two sheets of plastic is my new horizon. During the first inflation of pillow-like structures this horizon is rarely parallel to the ground and as my usual reference points are faded in the background behind the translucent film I have difficulties maintaining my balance. I readjust my bench mark by focussing on the floor rather than on the horizon.

The kill, usually at the end of the night, is another noticeable moment. The party is over, the daylight invades the space through any available hole, the structure has been emptied of every object that seemed worth saving, it is time to deflate. In an effort to make the best of it and to do it fast (starting to be pretty tired) I cut the ceiling/roof in the middle of the structure from side to side. The structure deflates rapidly, falling on both my sides at the same pace, letting me emerge from bubble reality in a venusian way.

Time to go to bed.
.


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