Bléhaut

Description

Electric Mom begins after a fatal accident. Noah brings his wife Hannah back home near a wild forest, but she returns altered, in a biomimetic synthetic body. Her memories seem intact, yet her body is optimized for performance, constant attention, and caregiving inside the family. The film stays in a quiet domestic space that is not sealed. Hannah is permanently connected to what surrounds her, and she starts to register everything as a saturated system, the house, the machines, the garden, the organisms at the edges. The garden grows “restless,” louder each day, until the environment itself becomes a pressure that changes what she can ignore and what she has to notice. A dead oak in the garden becomes a fixed point. Unlike Hannah, it never resurrected, and it introduces an irreversible limit inside a story built on continuity. As Noah remains silent and refuses to answer, Hannah begins to feel gaps in her narrative and to question what was actually preserved, her, or a usable version of her. The work follows that shift, from engineered care toward a need for agency and an exit from the role she was rebuilt to inhabit.

Process

I made Electric Mom as a continuation of my work on AI generated archives and reconstructed memory, but with a stronger focus on embodiment. I wanted to push the question of identity beyond “what is remembered” toward what a body registers, what it is trained to do, and what it costs to keep a constructed continuity running. The film also came from an interest in care as an unstable zone. I wanted to hold together the possibility of love and rescue with the possibility of control, especially when a woman is rebuilt to remain available, functional, and emotionally legible. The story gave me a way to think about how patriarchal expectations can persist under a technological surface, through optimization, curated memories, and domestic roles. Sandra Wollner’s The Trouble with Being Born (2020) was an important reference while writing and developing the work, for its precision around substitution, attachment, and vulnerability by design. More generally, the project grew from wanting to keep the narrative open at the edges, so the film could stay with questions rather than resolve them.

Tools

I composed the film from AI generated sequences made with Midjourney and Krea. I approached these images as if they were fragments of footage, then built the film through collage and editing, focusing on sequencing, pacing, and repetition rather than linear exposition. Visually, I aimed for a handheld cinematography feel, keeping slight instability and small imperfections so the images stay time based and bodily, rather than clean or fixed. This treatment supports the film’s atmosphere of constant registration and saturation, and helps the synthetic material retain a sense of presence and uncertainty.

Description

The image is the second photo from a limited series called "Anna's Dream". Anna is the central character of the series, dreaming of different versions of herself and of her house. "Anna’s Dream" is a fragile recollection of half-remembered selves, between focus and blur, every face almost hers, every room almost home. The series stages a lucid dream where intimacy meets entropy, asking how we inhabit a house—or a body—when both are forever rewriting themselves.

Process

I like creating with AI series of memory albums, where I can explore the notions of entropy, identity manipulation, and the distance between self-images in dreams and reality. In this series I wanted to have a gentle reminder that memories shift, places change, and even our sense of self can blur.

Tools

I used the midjourney v6 intentionnally to reproduce the unperfect and messy feeling of the photos. The results was also based on other AI archives from Dalle 2023.