In Pretty Things That Fly, surveillance is no longer covert. It is decorative.
Women stand in couture pink, arranged with the discipline of dancers trained to hold still under pressure. Above them, drones hover like accessories, sketched rather than engineered, crude in contrast to the refinement below. The imbalance is deliberate. Technology does not need elegance when power is assumed.
Faces are partially erased by paint, not to anonymise but to interrupt recognition. Identity becomes optional. Beauty remains mandatory. This is Hollywood logic perfected: visibility without agency, performance without narrative.
The women do not perform fear. They perform fluency. They know the camera. They know the system. They understand that the most effective response is not resistance, but calibration.
Within the Hollywood Drones world, this work captures a cultural shift: surveillance no longer watches from above. It floats within the scene, absorbed into the aesthetic until it becomes indistinguishable from glamour itself.
This is not dystopia.
This is rehearsal.
