The name golem refers to a mythical figure: a creature shaped by human hands out of inert matter, brought to life and purpose through language. The golem is a servant, a protector—but also an ambiguous figure, a warning about the limits of creative power. In today’s technological context, the myth re-emerges as a metaphor for the technical entities that replicate—or replace—human faculties.

My most immediate connection to the myth comes from Borges’ poem. There, the rabbi—the creator—looks upon his creature with tenderness and horror, until, in the final verses, Borges shifts the gaze:

“Who will tell us what God felt / looking at his rabbi in Prague?”

That ending, which reverses the logic of creative power, particularly interests me as a model for thinking about our relationship with technology: these are not merely neutral tools, but systems that reflect back to us a transformed image of ourselves.

I am drawn to 3D not as a direct representation of the world, but as a speculative reconstruction of what we perceive as real. In this gesture, the technical—usually associated with coldness, exteriority, and instrumentality—is absorbed into the realm of the sensitive. Digital imagery, then, is not just a visual surface, but a theatre of relations. In that in-between space, perhaps the golem is no longer a monstrous other, but an unsettling mirror. Partial. Intimate.