asdasd: The Clicker Game
A Windows 95–style clicker game in which you play an exploited internet worker paid 0,01€ per character typed. Early on, you realize your boss does not read what you write,
so typing “asdasdasdasdasd” earns exactly the same money.
To earn more, you buy keyboards and adopt cats, letting them walk across the keys to write automatically. Cats must be cared for -they get hungry, sleepy, or angry- and neglect reduces profits, though productivity can be boosted with catnip. As you save money, you can buy better keyboards, higher payouts per character, and absurd upgrades, including telepathic keyboards controlled by pets.
Eventually, growth requires adopting monkeys from the Deep Web. Monkeys write faster but are harder to manage, needing more food and rest, stimulation, and training. In this escalating system of care, automation, and output, the game functions as a satire of meaningless work and productivity in the digital age.
'asdasd: The Clicker Game' is a free experimental clicker / idle game prototype.
To earn more, you buy keyboards and adopt cats, letting them walk across the keys to write automatically. Cats must be cared for -they get hungry, sleepy, or angry- and neglect reduces profits, though productivity can be boosted with catnip. As you save money, you can buy better keyboards, higher payouts per character, and absurd upgrades, including telepathic keyboards controlled by pets.
Eventually, growth requires adopting monkeys from the Deep Web. Monkeys write faster but are harder to manage, needing more food and rest, stimulation, and training. In this escalating system of care, automation, and output, the game functions as a satire of meaningless work and productivity in the digital age.
'asdasd: The Clicker Game' is a free experimental clicker / idle game prototype.
Plantita y psicólogo
'Plantita y psicólogo' (Little plant and psychologist) is an animation series featuring a group of apparently simple characters: a small plant and her grandmother,
a worm, a patient and his therapist, among others. Through short, straightforward stories, the series adopts the tone of something
light and unpretentious, yet subtly engages with deeper social and emotional issues. Beneath its cute and banal surface, it hides a
commentary on everyday contradictions, collective anxieties, and the way we process meaning in digital culture.
The project emerged from a wish to make something direct and accessible, while still conscious of its critical dimension. By returning to the format of basic computer animations and sharing them on social media, the series plays with the tension between artistic intention and online entertainment. 'Plantita y psicólogo' uses simplicity as both method and disguise. An exploration of how humor, banality, and critique can coexist within the same frame.
The project emerged from a wish to make something direct and accessible, while still conscious of its critical dimension. By returning to the format of basic computer animations and sharing them on social media, the series plays with the tension between artistic intention and online entertainment. 'Plantita y psicólogo' uses simplicity as both method and disguise. An exploration of how humor, banality, and critique can coexist within the same frame.
asdasdasdasd
Thirty keyboards and mice are connected to a single computer, all functioning together. From this setup, participants take on tasks that would
normally be performed by a single person, such as typing coordinated phrases, solving CAPTCHAs, or completing psychomotor exercises, highlighting
the absurdity of collective effort in structured work.
The event also includes practical “tutorials” that explore automation and strategies to cope with alienating work routines. In one exercise, small weights are placed on each key to make multiple keyboards type a phrase in a continuous loop; the chosen message, “back in 5 min”, lets participants step away for a bathroom break during long hours of work. Another tutorial demonstrates how to build a DIY “mouse mover” from an alarm clock, keeping the cursor moving during telework so the system shows the user as active even when they are away.
Through these exercises, the project combines humor, experimentation, and subtle social critique, reflecting on how work is organized, how digital tools shape collaboration, and how trivial or playful actions can reveal larger structural dynamics in everyday labor.
The event also includes practical “tutorials” that explore automation and strategies to cope with alienating work routines. In one exercise, small weights are placed on each key to make multiple keyboards type a phrase in a continuous loop; the chosen message, “back in 5 min”, lets participants step away for a bathroom break during long hours of work. Another tutorial demonstrates how to build a DIY “mouse mover” from an alarm clock, keeping the cursor moving during telework so the system shows the user as active even when they are away.
Through these exercises, the project combines humor, experimentation, and subtle social critique, reflecting on how work is organized, how digital tools shape collaboration, and how trivial or playful actions can reveal larger structural dynamics in everyday labor.
Caca banal
In the digital realm, the term shitposting refers to a type of content that at first glance seems irrelevant or absurd.
Memes, collages, homemade animations, crude renderings, extreme mashups of questionable value.
'Caca banal' (banal poo) operates as an exercise in digital archaeology, delving into how certain seemingly banal forms of online content go far beyond mere chaos.
The exhibition also explores their use as tools for organization and social activism, their absorption by the corporate world, and how this seemingly
innocuous flow of information has significantly shaped the ideological imagination of various generations.
In collaboration with @atractive_smithers
With the participation of Miguel Noguera, Estela Ortiz and Proyecto Una
Systems management: Carlos Carbonell
Exhibition text: Víctor Balcells
Collaborating animator: Manuel Zapater
With the support of BCN Producció 2025 (ICUB)
In collaboration with @atractive_smithers
With the participation of Miguel Noguera, Estela Ortiz and Proyecto Una
Systems management: Carlos Carbonell
Exhibition text: Víctor Balcells
Collaborating animator: Manuel Zapater
With the support of BCN Producció 2025 (ICUB)
Dial nit
'Dial nit' (Night dial) is a musical and audiovisual performance that brings the aesthetics and sound of vaporwave to a live setting.
The project uses restored and sampled material from hundreds of analog cassettes and CDs (jingles, commercials, radio themes,
and programs recorded over thirty years ago) to create an ambient electronic concert with 360º sound and FM radio broadcast.
The surround sound is transmitted through multiple car radios parked around the venue, each tuned to a different channel of the mix.
Their headlights, in turn, become the lighting setup, shaping the atmosphere of the show.
The performance combines live drums, guitar, and vocals with analog visuals. Musicians improvise an adapt to the songs while following a custom in-ear system that provides live cues and guidance throughout the performance. Because the performers respond and adapt in real time, each show becomes a new mix and composition. In the end, the project stands as a celebration of the enthusiastic amateurism of local community radios.
With the collaboration of:
Andi Stecher (drums)
Estel Boada (vocals)
Narr Eph (guitar)
Albert Sánchez (visuals)
Video documentation: Pol Aregall
With the support of Cultural Rizoma
The performance combines live drums, guitar, and vocals with analog visuals. Musicians improvise an adapt to the songs while following a custom in-ear system that provides live cues and guidance throughout the performance. Because the performers respond and adapt in real time, each show becomes a new mix and composition. In the end, the project stands as a celebration of the enthusiastic amateurism of local community radios.
With the collaboration of:
Andi Stecher (drums)
Estel Boada (vocals)
Narr Eph (guitar)
Albert Sánchez (visuals)
Video documentation: Pol Aregall
With the support of Cultural Rizoma
Des que poso aquest dial, escolto coses molt genials
This project is a process of research and experimentation with material from the archive of Ràdio Celrà; primarily jingles and radio themes broadcast
between the 1980s and early 2000s, rescued after the station was destroyed in a fire. The work involves organizing and reinterpreting these recordings
to generate new usable jingles and compositions, in dialogue with the history and spirit of the station.
'Des que poso aquest dial, escolto coses molt genials' (Every time I turn this dial, I hear all sorts of amazing things) -one of the old slogans of Ràdio Celrà, originally used as a jingle in its early days as an amateur radio- was conceived as a process culminating in a live concert at Teatre l’Ateneu de Celrà, transforming the archival exploration into an immersive performance. It acts as a celebration of the culture of technological enthusiasts, similar to the amateur radio pioneers who built and sustained Ràdio Celrà.
With the collaboration of:
Albert Sánchez (visuals)
Estel Boada (vocals)
With the support of Cultural Rizoma and OSIC (Generalitat de Catalunya)
'Des que poso aquest dial, escolto coses molt genials' (Every time I turn this dial, I hear all sorts of amazing things) -one of the old slogans of Ràdio Celrà, originally used as a jingle in its early days as an amateur radio- was conceived as a process culminating in a live concert at Teatre l’Ateneu de Celrà, transforming the archival exploration into an immersive performance. It acts as a celebration of the culture of technological enthusiasts, similar to the amateur radio pioneers who built and sustained Ràdio Celrà.
With the collaboration of:
Albert Sánchez (visuals)
Estel Boada (vocals)
With the support of Cultural Rizoma and OSIC (Generalitat de Catalunya)
Ratboy Genius Last Frontier
In the not-too-distant future, communication infrastructures have begun to collapse, and the internet has split into two large clouds, each covering a part of the world.
However, in order to bridge the gap between the clouds, information must cross a desolate border where no telecommunication structures remain. Fortunately, a few devoted
technology enthusiasts work tirelessly to transmit data through amateur radio systems.
'Ratboy Genius Last Frontier' tells the story of Ratboy Genius, one of these radio aficionados who lives on the frontier of the cloud. One day, he discovers that his radio transmitter has been damaged and sets out on foot to deliver the last package of data he has received to the next communication node.
During his perilous journey, Ratboy Genius meets new friends who will help him overcome obstacles and encourage him to contemplate his role as a radio hobbyist. While his passion for technology has caused him to become socially isolated, it serves as inspiration to believe in the possibility of a decentralized, interconnected world.
Ratboy Genius Last Frontier takes the form of an unofficial (fan-fiction) episode in the Ratboy Genius internet musical series, created by Ryan Dorin.
'Ratboy Genius Last Frontier' tells the story of Ratboy Genius, one of these radio aficionados who lives on the frontier of the cloud. One day, he discovers that his radio transmitter has been damaged and sets out on foot to deliver the last package of data he has received to the next communication node.
During his perilous journey, Ratboy Genius meets new friends who will help him overcome obstacles and encourage him to contemplate his role as a radio hobbyist. While his passion for technology has caused him to become socially isolated, it serves as inspiration to believe in the possibility of a decentralized, interconnected world.
Ratboy Genius Last Frontier takes the form of an unofficial (fan-fiction) episode in the Ratboy Genius internet musical series, created by Ryan Dorin.
Mesita LaserDisc
A coffee table built from a fully functional LaserDisc player.
My best "furni".
Produced with the help of Pense (Hangar)
My best "furni".
Produced with the help of Pense (Hangar)
Après le spectacle, le magicien et son assistant font une pause
Short comic created with the obsolete drawing software Kid Pix (1989), printed on flash paper, a delicate,
highly flammable material that combusts instantly when touched by flame, leaving no trace behind, often used by magicians to create illusions.
The strip narrates, with minimal gestures, the story of a magician and his assistant taking a break between performances. The text reads:
“After the show, the magician and his assistant take a break.”
“Left alone, he has forgotten his trick.”
With the support of Homesession (Barcelona, Spain) and art3 (Valence, France)
The strip narrates, with minimal gestures, the story of a magician and his assistant taking a break between performances. The text reads:
“After the show, the magician and his assistant take a break.”
“Left alone, he has forgotten his trick.”
With the support of Homesession (Barcelona, Spain) and art3 (Valence, France)
Oh uy dolió
Portable televisions, once considered a technological luxury until the early 2000s, can no longer display anything on their screens; only snow or white noise.
With the arrival of digital telecommunications, analogue television was left deserted, and the airwaves through which newscasts, series and films from the main channels were broadcast now carry nothing at all.
Nevertheless, there are people who dedicate their time to patiently listening to television snow in search of some lost message. While some are motivated by the hope of finding voices from beyond (cacophonies), others seek interference bounced off the tail of a meteorite travelling close enough to the ionosphere. All of them are waiting for the televisions to say something.
'Oh uy dolió' (Oh ouch it hurt) is an installation made up of a group of obsolete portable televisions tuned to the same supposedly empty channel. In the space, a microphone hanging from the ceiling continuously records the faint sounds that occasionally seep through the television snow. This sound is processed by text transcription software, in an automated attempt to find linguistic meaning in these erratic interferences. At the same time, the result of this transcription is broadcast over a pirate analogue TV transmitter, which occupies the channel to which the portable televisions are tuned.
From time to time, when the room is empty and the microphone can ignore the voices of the people visiting the space -only when the televisions are alone- serendipitous phrases appear on the screens.
"OH UY DOLIÓ" appeared on the screens just after someone accidentally unplugged the power supply to the installation.
With the arrival of digital telecommunications, analogue television was left deserted, and the airwaves through which newscasts, series and films from the main channels were broadcast now carry nothing at all.
Nevertheless, there are people who dedicate their time to patiently listening to television snow in search of some lost message. While some are motivated by the hope of finding voices from beyond (cacophonies), others seek interference bounced off the tail of a meteorite travelling close enough to the ionosphere. All of them are waiting for the televisions to say something.
'Oh uy dolió' (Oh ouch it hurt) is an installation made up of a group of obsolete portable televisions tuned to the same supposedly empty channel. In the space, a microphone hanging from the ceiling continuously records the faint sounds that occasionally seep through the television snow. This sound is processed by text transcription software, in an automated attempt to find linguistic meaning in these erratic interferences. At the same time, the result of this transcription is broadcast over a pirate analogue TV transmitter, which occupies the channel to which the portable televisions are tuned.
From time to time, when the room is empty and the microphone can ignore the voices of the people visiting the space -only when the televisions are alone- serendipitous phrases appear on the screens.
"OH UY DOLIÓ" appeared on the screens just after someone accidentally unplugged the power supply to the installation.
Cel Inferno
Until the turn of the new millennium, films and cartoons were made using thin sheets of cellulose acetate. On these acetates, each of the frames that would bring the characters and landscapes of the animated story to life were drawn and painted. They were known as "cels." With the arrival of new computer animation techniques, the use of cels in the television and film industry gradually disappeared.
Cel collectors maintain a strong emotional bond with their collections. On the website rubberslug.com, a large community of animation enthusiasts proudly shares their cel archives with other users.
Sadly, acetate sheets are difficult to preserve due to their fragile nature. Moisture warps them, and the paint used on them flakes off with extreme ease if they are not handled with sufficient care -not to mention that they are made of flammable material-.
A user of rubberslug.com, now known as "Inferno," watched his vast collection burn down along with his home in the summer of 2008. In the fire, "Inferno" lost the great majority of his cels, and those he managed to rescue had been partially consumed by the flames. What could be more immersive, hypnotic and apocalyptic than the feeling that, as a cartoon character's world burns, yours -as a viewer- is also in flames?
The video 'Cel Inferno' investigates obsolescence and nostalgia in audiovisual formats, and invites reflection on material fetishism, the notion of scarcity in collecting, and economic speculation rooted in sentimentalism.
Cel collectors maintain a strong emotional bond with their collections. On the website rubberslug.com, a large community of animation enthusiasts proudly shares their cel archives with other users.
Sadly, acetate sheets are difficult to preserve due to their fragile nature. Moisture warps them, and the paint used on them flakes off with extreme ease if they are not handled with sufficient care -not to mention that they are made of flammable material-.
A user of rubberslug.com, now known as "Inferno," watched his vast collection burn down along with his home in the summer of 2008. In the fire, "Inferno" lost the great majority of his cels, and those he managed to rescue had been partially consumed by the flames. What could be more immersive, hypnotic and apocalyptic than the feeling that, as a cartoon character's world burns, yours -as a viewer- is also in flames?
The video 'Cel Inferno' investigates obsolescence and nostalgia in audiovisual formats, and invites reflection on material fetishism, the notion of scarcity in collecting, and economic speculation rooted in sentimentalism.
La troballa d'un artefacte arqueològic renderitzat
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You are too alert to sleep any longer
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Toading
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Honorable Mention
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El dia que hem compartit breument
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Music for Montserrat
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THE END
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