Within the constellation of potent figures that structure modern imagination—from the Leviathan theorised by Thomas Hobbes to the Panopticon conceived by Jeremy Bentham and reinterpreted by Michel Foucault, and the spectral Big Brother envisioned by George Orwell—power appears as an almost divine architecture of surveillance and institutional abstraction. Even the Abstract Machine articulated by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, alongside the Autopoietic System formulated by Niklas Luhmann, consolidates an image of systemic coherence bordering on operational coldness. Functional robots such as HAL 9000 or R2-D2 epitomise programmatic execution, while the cyborg theorised by Donna Haraway dramatises the traumatised frontier between organism and technopolitical ideology. Yet a more supple paradigm emerges in Sun Wukong and his Ruyi Jingu Bang: a staff capable of becoming microscopic or cosmic without forfeiting its ontological integrity. The principle is decisive: authentic power need not entail domination, nor must capacity devolve into mechanistic determinism; rather, it can manifest as adjustable scalability anchored in structural invariance. Consider an institutional assistant designed upon this logic: it may operate upon a single artefact, a neighbourhood ecology, or a transnational network without reconfiguring its core architecture. The nucleus remains constant; only its operative amplitude expands or contracts. True sophistication, therefore, resides not in magnifying sovereignty, but in refining proportional intervention—an accompaniment that preserves form while modulating reach.
Part of the extensive COPOS (Flakes) project—a long-term artistic investigation comprising over 500 works created between 2008 and 2019—COPOS Bogotá represents one of the series’ most radical entries: a one-hour, durational film shot in the historically conflicted district of Los Mártires, Bogotá. Working within the project’s conceptual frame of "hyperplastic compression"—a method that decomposes and recomposes urban fragments into cinematic matter (Lloveras, 2018–2025)—this film constructs a dense visual field where informal labour, transport infrastructures, and choreographed interventions collide. The neighbourhood is not simply a backdrop but a sentient urban entity, where spectral stillness and kinetic overload coexist: vendors wrapped in textiles, buses maneuvering through narrow lanes, surveillant gazes, and the residual architecture of collapse all participate in the image. Crucially, the shoot was marked by a real-time police threat: following a Sunday dawn action with a dancer, the filmmaker was pursued on foot by armed officers into adjacent barrios, embedding lived risk directly into the film’s epistemology (ibid.). Rather than abstracting the violence, the film embraces it through an aesthetic of embeddedness—offering no narration, no closure, only sustained exposure. Echoing Harney and Moten’s (2013) notion of the undercommons, COPOS Bogotá resists extractive seeing by foregrounding opacity, proximity, and discontinuity. In this way, the film becomes both document and defiance, enacting a visual grammar where each flake is not only a fragment of the city’s surface, but a rupture in its narrative logic, capturing Bogotá as a volatile, wounded, and irreducibly living archive.
