The Function of the Flesh

A slow, ritualistic art piece that lingers on bodies and materials until the base becomes something luminous and strange.

A hypnotic, intimate mirror-play that blurs self-love and narcissism, asking you to sit with unsettling desire.

A nostalgic, intimate rumination on hidden tapes and private rituals, more like leafing through a memory box than watching a story unfold.

A quiet, uneasy slice of teenage intimacy, all glances and screens, that leaves you unsettled rather than moved.

An unsettling, quietly hypnotic art piece that blurs the line between self and image, leaving a lingering unease.

A fleeting, static art-provocation that asks you to study bodies like statues and puzzle over what just happened.

A glittering, stomach-churning plunge into excess where glamour curdles into the grotesque, demanding and unforgettable.

An intimate, pulse-driven encounter that lingers on bodies, gazes and the charged space between artist and subject.

A formally austere, talky experiment that rewards patience with a coolly intellectual, quietly puzzling viewing experience.

A brief, dreamlike drift through desire and doubt, more mood and suggestion than story.

A slow, wordless visual poem that lingers on the body, asking quiet attention and offering sensuous, contemplative imagery rather than story.

A strange, dreamlike short that unsettles more than it explains, asking you to sit with its eerie mirror-logic.