The storm has changed, but the curse remains. A lone figure in crimson latex stands at the helm of ruin, surrounded by ghosts in tailored black. This is not salvation. This is style as survival, desire as dominion. Coleridge’s haunted voyage reimagined through the myth-machine of fashion, gender, and power. He who shot the albatross now walks the deck in heels.

“Myth//Machine” is an experimental series at the intersection of the past and projection: A visual machine that filters the myths of world literature, religion, and history through the dark glamour of the present. The machine consists of two chambers: One sucks in the symbolic structures of old master engravings—Doré, Duvet, Flaxman, Piranesi. The other spits out photorealistic, dramatically staged fashion images that look as if Helmut Newton had illustrated the Bible or Steven Klein had staged Dante.