This sculpture began with a question: what happens when the dream of invincibility is rebuilt in cardboard? The Tesla Cybertruck promises solidity, dominance, futurity. I chose to reimagine it with fragile sheets of packaging, held together by makeshift joints. The result is both ridiculous and sincere: a vehicle that cannot drive, a shell that cannot protect, an icon turned precarious.

I call it Empty Cart or Cardboard Cybertruck. It hesitates between shopping trolley and armored machine, between a tool of consumption and a symbol of power. I like this hesitation, this in-between where certainty fails. The arrogance of chrome gives way to porosity, to a vulnerable surface that reveals how thin the line is between strength and collapse.

For me, the piece is less parody than proposition: a mirror that bends and distorts the myths we place in technology, showing them as fragile, fallible, human. To stand before it is to feel a sweet dissonance — to smile at its absurdity, but also to sense the fragility hidden in every object of belief. It is an invitation to rethink what we trust, what we admire, and how easily it can fold under its own weight.