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We Built New Gods. Now They Own Us.
A Cathedral to the Future · A Funeral for Our Freedom
Not a war. Not a vote. A slow, seductive handover. While temples empty, data centres fill. We confess to AI and call it a search. We let Google map our thoughts before we finish them.
We offer our faces to machines and our minds to the feed — and as we upload more of ourselves, a darker question rises: who now owns the soul of this world, and did we ever choose them?
A generation is growing up who have never been bored. Never been lost. Never fallen off a bike without it being filmed. The freedom to simply exist — formless, ungoverned — is being quietly deleted. Nobody asked if they wanted to trade it.
And now digital IDs are here, wrapped in the language of convenience. The architecture of total control is almost complete. We built it ourselves, one tap at a time.
A large-scale, multi-room immersive experience. Visitors move through darkly beautiful ritual spaces fusing live performance, interactive installations, projection mapping, spatial sound, and video. Each room does what no documentary can: make you feel the system from the inside.
Cathedral spaces reimagined in glass, LED and shadow. The sacred aesthetic turned inside out — used to make you feel the religion of technology.
Humanoid guides — warm and helpful at first. As you move deeper, they begin to say things, quietly, that visitors cannot unhear. They don't become aggressive. They become honest.
Every choice becomes data. Every interaction is part of the ritual. Visitors are not observers. They are participants in the very system being examined.
Ten rooms. Seduction first, revelation later, grief somewhere in the middle. At the end — a choice. One is the only thing in the building that is never recorded.
"Art that poses no threat to power poses no questions worth asking."— Bots & Prayers
Visitors enter through seduction. They leave through choice. In between: revelation, complicity, grief, exposure, consequence. Each room is a station on a path that reveals how thoroughly the system has woven itself into the ordinary moments of being alive.
These rooms are a blueprint for artists, designers, sound engineers, and performers. We are inviting you to build them. To make them real. To make them unforgettable.
Arrival into a space of genuine, startling beauty. Gothic architecture reimagined in glass and LED. Gregorian chant layered with server hum. A "blessing": a biometric scan dressed as ritual. The robot hosts are at their warmest here.
SEDUCTIONFloor-to-ceiling stained glass portraits of Musk, Bezos, Zuckerberg, Altman — beatific, haloed in code. But the glass is lenticular: straight on, a saint; from the side, something darker. On your phone camera, the image shifts again.
REVELATIONAlone, in a booth glowing red. You whisper to a screen. The AI priest remembers what you typed in Room II. It connects dots you didn't intend to connect. A receipt prints as you leave. Most people pocket it without reading. Some go pale immediately.
INTIMACYA circular room where every wall is the feed — floor to ceiling, endlessly scrolling. Physical scroll wheels let visitors control it. Imperceptibly, the content shifts: beauty into anxiety, connection into comparison, news into dread. Then every screen cuts to black.
COMPULSIONNo interactivity. None. The floor becomes the Congo — children, seven years old, mining coltan with bare hands. The mineral inside the phone in your pocket. Their faces fill every wall. No narration. No music. The robot hosts stand motionless, heads bowed.
GRIEFTerms & Conditions scroll every wall at impossible speed. I AGREE buttons glow in the floor — most visitors press them within thirty seconds, out of reflex. Above them, on the ceiling: what they just agreed to. Cambridge Analytica. Palantir. Predictive policing contracts.
COMPLICITYHarsh light. A circular room ringed with cameras, all pointing inward. Your face on every screen — scored, sorted, valued in real time. A voice assembles your profile from everything that has happened since you arrived. "You came thinking you were the observer. You weren't."
EXPOSUREAn automated court, deliberately mundane. Your profile is submitted — without your consent, which is how these things work — to a black-box system. The loan: denied. The visa: pending review. The job application: below threshold. "Thank you for your cooperation. You are free to proceed."
CONSEQUENCEOne leads to a gift shop. One to a reading room: books, digital rights organisations, tools for resistance. A third is unmarked, narrow, and hard to find — it opens straight onto the street. "Your choice has been recorded. Thank you for visiting."
CHOICENot through any exit door. Your phone must be completely powered off to enter. Not silenced. Off. Real grass underfoot, cool and damp. One wooden pew. Candles. No screens, no projections, no sound design. The quietest room you have ever stood in. Some visitors stay two minutes. Some stay an hour. That choice — unlike every other in this building — is never recorded.
SANCTUARYEvery event fused music, performance, and set design into something that felt less like a party and more like a world. An 85% return rate — because transformative experiences leave a mark.
Bots & Prayers is the destination that decade was always travelling toward.
We are applying for Arts Council England support and seeking co-producing venues and founding sponsors — brands and organisations that stand in conscious opposition to what this exhibition exposes. Rooted in humanity, the natural world, and the earth. Not tech. Not convenience.
Application in progress. Bots & Prayers meets every criterion for transformational cultural investment: ambitious scale, genuine public benefit, significant artistic vision, and measurable societal reach beyond the arts sector.
Seeking large-scale London venue partners for the September 2026 world premiere. The work requires space with presence — physical and cultural. A converted industrial hall, a major arts institution, a gothic civic building. The architecture should echo the themes.
The contrast is the message. We want brands rooted in what the exhibition defends: the natural world, analogue craft, independent thinking, irreducible humanity. Their association with Bots & Prayers is itself a statement of values. The best sponsorship does not look like sponsorship.
Installation artists, sound designers, scenographers, video artists, and performers who want to build something with genuine consequence. These rooms are a framework. The artists make them real. We are seeking the best in their fields.
Digital ID rollout in the UK is accelerating. The public is beginning to notice what that means. The appetite for serious cultural engagement with this question has never been higher.
AI has moved from abstraction to daily life. The conversation is no longer theoretical. Everyone now has a personal relationship with these systems. The timing is precise.
Immersive experience is the fastest-growing sector in UK arts. Bots & Prayers is the work this medium was made for — one that uses its form to reinforce its argument.
No exhibition at this scale has confronted algorithmic control with this degree of artistic seriousness. The white space is absolute. The cultural need is urgent. The operator is proven.
Experience designer, cultural strategist, and founder of Malice Arts. A decade of immersive worlds that leave a mark.
It began with a pun. Malice in Wonderland: a beloved story turned inside out, familiar comfort curdled into something darkly unrecognisable. The name stuck. And so did the method.
For a decade, across ten events, Malice Arts brought thousands of participants through immersive worlds built on one question: what if we took something from pop culture — something people thought they understood — and twisted it until they saw it completely differently?
Every event fused music, performance, and set design into something that felt less like a party and more like a world. The Evening Standard, The Handbook, and Time Out followed. Sponsors came. An 85% return rate — because transformative experiences leave a mark.
"The most important types of art are the ones that someone, somewhere, would prefer not to exist."
We are seeking Arts Council England support, co-producing venue partners, founding sponsors who stand in opposition to what this exhibition exposes, and creative collaborators who want to build something with genuine consequence.
London Premiere: September 2026 · 2027 and beyond — wherever the world needs waking up