Making the marvelous real

There is a room in Davos where heads of state wept. No actors, no dialogue. Just a child's bedroom that changes across four years of war. Every object — a toy, a blanket, a crack in the wall — tells what happened without saying a word. I built that room for the International Committee of the Red Cross. It was presented at the World Economic Forum. It made people cry.

In cinema: Vesper, a biopunk fairy tale set in a world where genetic engineering replaced industry and animals vanished — released theatrically in over 30 countries. Before that: Vanishing Waves, the first Lithuanian science fiction feature, winner of the Golden Méliès and 24 international awards.

It started on the web. In 1998, I imagined panoplie.org — one of France's earliest experiments in treating the web as a living medium, not a page. In 2002, I designed Society, the first online game acquired by the French national art collection. In 2009, I built an interactive fiction for Arte — a chatbot inhabited by the ghost of J.G. Ballard.

The thread through all of it isn't a style — it's a method. I start with a question, usually a biological or physical one, and follow the consequences until a world grows. What happens to a civilization with no animals? What does light cost when there's no fire? What does a child's room sound like after the fourth year of a war? I don't invent the answers. I follow them.

This site is where I think in public. The articles here are notes from the workshop: ideas in progress, questions I haven't answered yet, things I've learned by getting them wrong first. If you make worlds, this is for you.