The figures are not real. They do not exist. The question stands as to whether they ever existed at all. They have skin and hair, venous details, but they are subtly wrong, different somehow, too perfect, too regular, too still. The lighting and spaces they reside in are like a pristine studio, a laboratory, an otherworldly nether space where they exist only in limbo. They are lit as if in a photographic studio, but the photographer is a machine. The figures are sprites and any life they have is purely relegated to the ghosts in the machine. Every part of these figures is human… And yet they are inhuman, un aging, un knowing, un changeable.