Every night, millions of people bring the most powerful attention-capturing machine ever designed into the most vulnerable space they inhabit. The bed, historically a place of rest, dream, and private self, has been quietly colonized. We scroll until we forget who we are, until we lose track of time, until the line between waking and sleep dissolves. Doomscrolling is not a bad habit. It is a behavioural dependency, engineered by design, with documented consequences: chronic sleep disruption, anxiety, depression, isolation, and in the most extreme cases, irreversible harm.
ENDLESS LYING makes you feel this from the inside.
The installation invites the visitor to lie down on a single bed enclosed within an MDF structure. The moment they do, a screen embedded directly overhead floods their field of vision with overlapping reels, competing sounds, and fragmented content impossible to follow, impossible to ignore. Reflective films on the inner walls multiply the images around the body in every direction, dissolving the boundary between self and feed. There is no neutral place to look. The overstimulation is total and deliberate.
From the outside, the structure takes the form of a CT scanner: white, clinical, analytical. Because if doomscrolling is a pathology, the architecture that contains it should look like a machine built to diagnose one. The visitor is simultaneously subject and patient: observed from without, overwhelmed from within.
ENDLESS LYING does not offer solutions. It offers a moment of recognition and the instinct to get up and walk away.
