Becoming Prosthetic¶
To be the best version of ourselves once sounded like an act of progress, a cleaner, faster, optimized human. Yet, as I explored what a prosthesis could be, that narrative began to dissolve. The more I extended the body, the less human it felt, and paradoxically, the more alive.
A prosthesis is not only an addition, it is a negotiation, between the body and the world, between intimacy and distance, between control and surrender. The prosthesis taught me how to feel again, how to be present in my own body, aware of its limits and its connections.
Each piece became a small experiment in relation and transformation. Through BookGrip, I relearned slowness, the intelligence of holding, of pausing, of thinking with the body. Through Listening Extensions, I imagined new ways of connecting to non-human rhythms, becoming part-plant, part-signal, part-ear. Through To Be Judged, I experienced the tension of surveillance, how the gaze of another can become an extension of both control and vulnerability.
Each work became a question rather than a solution. What if to evolve is to hybridize? What if to become more is to dissolve the borders that keep us separate?
Manel de Aguas speaks of becoming a cyborg, not as a distant future, but as a present condition, where new organs of perception redefine what it means to be human. Thomas Thwaites reminds us that "the body is the first tool we use to interact with the world." If that is true, then every prosthesis, physical, digital, or emotional, continues that dialogue.
To be prosthetic is to exist in relation. To be human is already to be multiple: technological, biological, cultural, environmental. The best version of ourselves may not be the one that rises above, but the one that learns to attune, to evolve in empathy, to listen through the skin, to sense the invisible threads that bind us to everything else.
BookGrip¶
Prosthetics go beyond their traditional function. They are not tools to fix or replace, but extensions that question how we evolve.
BookGrip is a prosthesis that forces the body to hold a book again, to pause, to feel its weight, and to reconnect with knowledge through touch. It reminds us that being the best version of ourselves isn't always about progress, but about remembering what we've forgotten.
Listening Extensions¶
This prosthesis explores the idea of human–nature connection beyond enhancement. Made of wires, threads, and branches, it acts as an interface of sensitivity, a network that expands the human body's perception toward the environment.
It imagines a future where we grow with our surroundings instead of apart from them. Where technology and nature intertwine, and the body becomes a bridge between both.
To be judge¶
We played a game of surveillance, half of us became subjects, half became detectives. For thirty minutes, I was followed without knowing by whom, and for another thirty, I became the one who watched. The constant awareness of being seen changed the way I moved, the way I existed.
Subject
My prototype was my own hair. I usually keep it tied with a hair clip, but this time I let it loose, it became my prosthesis, my shield. The idea of someone following me made me feel anxious, so hiding from my own Detective behind myself seemed like the only thing I could control.
The surveillance started at 12:17. Some of us went to the rooftop, but the sun was too bright so after a few minutes I went downstairs, trying to shake off the feeling of being observed. My original plan was to stay still, to be boring and pretend it was a normal day, but the discomfort pushed me to move. So I ran away from my detective and wandered without direction, not knowing where to go.
By 12:40, I returned to IAAC and ran into Ale and Aishwarya. We walked together toward the coffee shop and then back to the classroom.
Even though I know my phone listens, that cameras watch from every corner, that I'm theoretically being observed all the time, knowing that someone was actually following me was completely different. It made the abstract fear tangible. I felt panic rise in moments I couldn't explain, and even after I lost my Detective, I couldn't shake the feeling of being pursued.
Detective
As the detective, I tried to be discreet, to observe without being noticed, but quickly realized it was harder than I imagined. At 13:02, the subject was deeply focused on the computer with Armin, likely working on something related to the webpage. By 13:11, the subject closed the laptop, returned to her seat, and put some items in her locker. At 13:12, she went downstairs, and I immediately lost track of her. I walked around the building and the surrounding areas, trying to find her again without being noticed, but she seemed to have disappeared for a while.
Since the subject suggested continuing the game, I followed once more. At 14:01, she joined a group on the terrace with Ayal, Max, and Armin, excited to try a new game of Armin's. She ate some pasta, and throughout those moments, she shared music, recommending "Cosa sarà" for sad moments, "Cumbia japonesa" for cooking, "Ella baila sola" for parties, and choosing bossa nova to manage stress, even though she confessed she would have preferred techno. Each song revealed a different version of the subject, a small window into her moods, habits, and how she navigates everyday life.
Trying not to be obvious, I attempted to stay discreet, but the subject quickly realized I was the one following her. Once I lost track of her, I had to ask around and search through her nearby circle to try to find her, which made it clear that discretion alone was ineffective. The exercise showed how challenging it is to be a silent observer, and how quickly the balance of watching can shift, revealing both the watcher and the watched.