Manifesto
Planktos
333 Tokens
Planktos is a generative art collection about the hidden architecture of life: microscopic drifters rendered with the care and scale usually reserved for monuments.
Drifters as monuments
Plankton are some of the smallest and most important beings on Earth. They drift unseen, shaping climates and food webs, holding up entire oceans. Planktos treats them not as background data but as subjects worthy of portraiture.
Each image imagines a single organism — real or composite — presented as if under an impossibly perfect macro lens. Shells become cathedrals of silica. Cilia become crowns of light. Tiny vacuoles and chambers glow like stained glass.
Microscopy as reverence
The collection borrows the visual language of microscopy but leans into tenderness rather than analysis. Backgrounds are simple and deep. Light is careful and directional. Depth of field is shallow, turning water into haze and colour, keeping attention on one drifting form.
There is no clutter, no noise for its own sake. Each disc, spiral, frond and spine is given space to be looked at, the way one might slowly walk around a sculpture in a quiet gallery.
Worlds within worlds
Planktos is interested in scale. At one level, the works are about organisms measured in microns. At another, they read like galaxies, nebulae or distant planets. The same visual structures — rings, halos, radiating lines, clustered points of light — appear at both scales.
The collection invites viewers to move between those readings: from cell to star, from droplet to cosmos, from unnoticed drift to foundational presence.
Code, not specimen jars
Everything in Planktos is generated from code and prompts. There are no scanned slides or captured specimens. Instead, the system is fed a vocabulary of biological and optical ideas and asked to respond.
That means the organisms in Planktos are not literal species but plausible kin: echoes, archetypes, imagined cousins of real plankton. They are meant to evoke the real microscopic world while remaining clearly in the realm of art — faithful to the spirit rather than the catalog.
Taken together, the works form a kind of microcosmic atlas: a map of luminous drifters that could exist, rendered in the language of fine art photography.
Other Collections
Glitch
Glitch is a chronicle of generative destruction — a moment where order dissolves and creation is forced to rewrite itself.
Each image captures the instant a system breaks open, revealing the raw mechanics of collapse: torn planes, corrupted colour,
fractured geometry and unstable architectures dragged through the turbulence of a failing render.
This is not destruction as decay, but destruction as generation: new forms born through rupture, error and computational stress.
Glitch is the story of a machine unmaking itself — and in doing so, discovering unexpected beauty in the wreckage.
Dust
Dust is a study in chalk, pigment and breath — abstract forms arranged like quiet mathematics.
Circles, lines and woven geometries drift across soft paper textures, fading at the edges as if they were drawn and erased a hundred times before settling into their final shape. Some pieces feel like blueprints, others like constellations or half-remembered maps, but all of them carry the same powdered calm: the hush of chalk hanging in the air.
Chairs
Chairs is a study in sculptural absurdity: a museum-grade exploration of chairs that push beyond functional design into expressive, impractical, and architecturally playful form.
Each work is a hyper‑photorealistic portrait of a chair behaving more like a sculpture: a seat that bends too far, loops into itself, contradicts its own engineering, or performs gestures no practical furniture would ever attempt.
The result is a collection where fine‑art photography meets conceptual design, blurring the boundary between object, artwork, and architectural experiment.