Philipp Hölke

Art

Samantha

A circuit-board torso, two eyes, a blank face, and a name said out loud — Hi, I'm Sam — as if a person and a plug were the same introduction.

A pale field on paper crowded with Basquiat-like marks — a black dotted circuit board with a cable labelled plug me in, a white outlined heart, a cartoon face, two large eyes (one veined, one green with a red cross), stars, zigzags, and hand-lettered lines including Hi, I'm Sam, API to Elon, and for love 19 but a frequency.

A black dotted slab with a cable coming off it sits where a torso might — plug me in written along the wire. Beside it a heart drawn as a maze, a face with almost nothing on it, and two eyes that do not belong to the same head: one bloodshot, one a green pill with a red cross in the pupil. Across the middle, in pink, the introduction.

Hi, I’m Sam.

The rest of the lettering treats the name as a protocol — an API pointed at Elon, a frequency instead of love, a question about trust that never quite resolves. Samantha is assembled from parts that already know how to connect. Whether the person is at the socket or on the other end of it is left open.