Nostalgia, Control and the Illusion of Choice
When I was a kid, the View-Master felt like magic. You’d click the side lever and—click—you’re suddenly somewhere else. Another image. Another world. And you never really questioned what was coming next. Someone else had loaded the reel. You just clicked through.
That memory is where Birdhouse in Your Soul started.
This piece is a digital illustration built to mimic the tactile quality of the original toy—the flat color, the clean edges, the controlled composition. The object is familiar: a red 1970s View-Master on a high-saturation yellow field. At first glance, it might feel like nostalgia. But look closer. There are faint, sucker-like prints along the surface—tentacle marks. Subtle, but deliberate. A sign that something else is touching the object. Controlling it. Leaving its shape behind.
Part of the 10TCL Collection
Birdhouse in Your Soul is part of a larger body of work called 10TCL—a series exploring themes of free will, control, the subconscious, and how digital culture rewires how we see ourselves. Each piece plays with visual language you already know: toys, tech, media objects. But they’re all warped slightly—made to feel off, even if you can’t say why right away.
I didn’t name the collection after tentacles just because it looked cool (though it does). Tentacles feel like a metaphor for modern influence: subtle, reaching, always just out of sight. And often, we don’t notice they’re wrapped around us until we try to move.
Every Choice, Preloaded
I created this piece digitally, but with analog intent. The red is hot, nostalgic, familiar. The yellow is artificial and loud, like an ad you didn’t mean to see. The whole thing feels clean—but it isn’t innocent.
The View-Master is about choice. Or at least, the illusion of it. You pick the reel. But once it’s in, all you can do is click and follow. I think that’s what made it the perfect symbol for this idea of curated experiences and algorithm-fed decision-making.
We think we’re choosing. We’re really just advancing.
For the Ones Paying Attention
Birdhouse in Your Soul was made for people who feel this—who notice the quiet pressure behind curated feeds and the subtle repetition of approval-seeking behavior. You might be a collector, a creative, a nostalgic realist, or someone just trying to stay conscious in a system that prefers you on autopilot.
This piece is for you. It’s available now as a museum-quality print—bold, clean, but with a shadow under the surface. Just like the image. Just like the idea.
Thanks for noticing.
