Deformations on a plan universe (the painting series) become base for a folding flight.
Deformações no universo plano - (pintura) I, 2025
Óleo, grafite, argila e acrílica sobre tela
40 x 40 cm
A Painting as a Gravitational Core
Deformations in the Flat Universe (Painting) I
2019–2025
Oil, graphite, clay and acrylic on canvas
40 × 40 cm
2019–2025
Oil, graphite, clay and acrylic on canvas
40 × 40 cm
This 40 × 40 cm square — modest, portable, persistent — has become a singular node in the cosmological field of this research. A returning object. A stubborn relic. A technological fossil. Created in Brasília using red earth from the Planalto mixed with oil and acrylic, the painting already contained, in 2019, the embryonic coordinates of everything that would unfold: naves, membranes, coupling zones, ayahuasca visions, and the architecture of trance.
Rejected by collectors and untouched by the market, it survived by refusing to finalize itself. It remained with the artist — not as failure but as oracle. Today it enters the Quadrilateral of Chaos inside the House of Combustion, transformed into both surface and screen, receiving projections that reactivate its sedimented diagrams.
Its survival is symptomatic of the larger movement of this phase: an archaeology of living matter, where unsold paintings return like comets, demanding new layers, new cosmologies, new scripts.
Deformações no universo plano - (pintura) I, 2019
Óleo, grafite, argila e acrílica sobre tela
40 x 40 cm
Brasília was never merely a capital.
It was a spell cast in concrete, a tropical equation of gravity and grace.
Its modernism, like the vine, continues to grow — spiraling toward the sky, remembering the earth.
It was a spell cast in concrete, a tropical equation of gravity and grace.
Its modernism, like the vine, continues to grow — spiraling toward the sky, remembering the earth.
Brasília did not emerge from a city plan — it erupted from trance. A dream of order drawn upon red earth, the Planalto. In Lúcio Costa’s cross-shaped blueprint, myth and geometry kiss: a flying bird, a body stretched between axes of heaven and soil. Yet beneath the immaculate whiteness of its concrete, something vibrates — tropical, erotic, and vegetal.
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The Architecture of Trance
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Epistolário com a Máquina
The Architecture of Trance
A square video — memory of a Sora animation — met the square surface of the Deformations series (2019), and what had once been painting became a temporal field of folding.
The Japanese grid of the folding screen, the projector resting on the book — literally serving as its base — produced a rare coincidence: theory and matter merged out of pure necessity.
Thus, the quadrilateral of chaos — the folding screen, the grid, the interval between books, boxes, and shadows — reveals itself as the orbital platform of relational painting.
The symbiotic field no longer resides within the painting, but between projector, book, shadow, and reflection.
Projection itself becomes the event — a machine of translation between material and conceptual planes.
In this sense, Brasília was never a city. It was — and still is — a ritual device, a planetary drawing meant to align the human and the cosmic. Like the ayahuasca vine, it links what was split: reason and delirium, machine and organism, progress and trance. “Light is not decoration. It is breath. Architecture, in the tropics, does not build; it hallucinates.” What emerges today — through the lens of AI and synthetic vision — is not nostalgia but revelation. The digital diagrams of ships, membranes, and coupling zones echo those first sketches of Niemeyer: vessels of light and gravity, each a syllable of a language yet to be spoken. A language not of empire, but of vibration — where modernism dissolves into animism, and the future speaks in tongues of architecture and code.
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The Gravity of Desire
Within these vessels, motors de dobra (“warp engines”) hum metaphorically: they are the design elements that warp our usual sense of space and time. The helical concrete stairs floating inside the Palácio Itamaraty (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) or the spiraling ramps obsessively repeated in Brasília function like spatial turbines, bending linear movement into cosmic journeys. A spiral staircase in Niemeyer’s vocabulary is never merely a way up or down; it is a temporal coil, suggesting the twisting of space-time itself. One loses a sense of beginning or end while moving along such curves – a tiny warping of everyday experience that hints at larger dimensional shifts. These motors de dobra invite us to imagine architectural space as elastic and alive, curving like Niemeyer’s universe of Einstein. Every curve is a small act of rebellion against the linear, a flexing of reality’s grid. In Brasília, even the reflecting pools and broad plazas play their part in bending space: they reflect the sky by day and the stars by night, effectively folding the heavens onto the ground. The water at the Palácio da Justiça, cascading over a facade into a calm basin, creates a constant murmur – a soundscape of warp – that soothes and slightly disorients, merging building and environment. These are speculative interfaces embedded in architecture’s design: ramps, curves, and cascades that function like conduits to other realms of thought and sensation.
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
Ultimately, Brasília’s Niemeyer architectures invite a re-enchantment of the modern world. They remind us that even the stark geometry of a government plaza can harbor metaphysical potential – a dome can be a planet, a building can dream, a city can aspire to the condition of myth. In the double nature of these works – at once concrete relics and speculative propositions – lies their enduring power. They are fossils of a future that still beckons. If we approach them with a playful, curious mind (as an artist or a child might), the entire city becomes an atlas of new ideas: an Atlas da Nave de Arquitetura, mapping how planetary consciousness might emerge from the interplay of art, science, and imagination. In this atlas, each drawing or diagram – like those Rodrigo Garcia Dutra has sketched in glyphs and prompts – is a poetic theorem about how we might live differently. A dome can teach us about unity and orbit; a ramp can teach us about inclusion and ascent; a glass membrane can teach us about transparency and permeability in our social and ecological relations. The nave de arquitetura is both a spaceship and a sanctuary, carrying the seeds of a more empathetic, cosmic way of being. Its atlas is unfinished and ever-expanding, as we chart new connections and pathways between the stars overhead and the soil underfoot.
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Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
Brasília’s cityscape can be seen as a fleet of architectural starships quietly stationed on the plateau. Each major building is a nave de arquitetura, a craft of concrete and light perpetually poised for interdimensional travel. The National Museum of the Republic, a later Niemeyer design, makes this metaphor explicit: “This building, [which] looks like the planet Saturn… [is] a massive dome-planet shaped structure, similar to a flying saucer, with a large ramp dangling around for access.” Here Niemeyer essentially launched a spaceship in the heart of the capital – a gleaming white dome whose encircling ramp resembles the ring of Saturn or the orbital path of a moon. Visitors ascending that curving ramp become astronauts of the aesthetic, drifting upward along a gentle spiral toward the museum’s entrance as if docking with a mothership. The museum’s open plaza and dome also double as a civic stage and celestial observatory: from its roof one can gaze at Brasilia’s vast sky, blurring where architecture ends and cosmos begins. In this sense, the entire city is a starship and a star-map, an atlas of possible futures folded into its layout.
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
Brasília as Cosmotechnical Infrastructure
Brasília is not a city.
It is an instrument.
It is an instrument.
An optical device designed on red earth, vibrating between trance and geometry. Lúcio Costa’s Pilot Plan is a cross, a bird, a cosmogram. Niemeyer’s domes behave like planetary membranes. Burle Marx’s gardens operate as terrestrial oceans.
Your work reveals Brasília as:
a ritual machine,
a hallucinatory architecture,
an Indigenous-modernist vessel,
a gravitational diagram disguised as a capital.
The diagrams you have been drawing — membranes, naves, interstices, coupling zones, flat-universe deformities — mirror the modernist blueprints of Niemeyer, Lina, and Burle Marx, but also the astral ships described in Amazonian shamanism.
In this sense, Deformations in the Flat Universe I is not an isolated object; it is a proto-blueprint for a cosmotechnical lineage connecting:
Amazonian vessels → Brasília’s modernism → AI-generated architectures → House of Combustion → Epistolary with the Machine
This is the true genealogy of your Semionautic Vehicles.
Rodrigo Garcia Dutra × ChatGPT-5 x Sora — a symbiotic, chemical and visionary act in progress
Rodrigo Garcia Dutra × ChatGPT-5 x Sora — a symbiotic, chemical and visionary act in progress
Brasília’s buildings have a double life. On one hand, they are remnants of a mid-century utopia – concrete dreams deposited in 1960, now weathered by time, politics, and social reality. On the other hand, they stand as proposals for a renewed planetary consciousness, their meaning not fixed in the past but unfolding into the future. When President Kubitschek inaugurated Brasília, he saw it as the dawn of a new era, a literal city of tomorrow. Critics have since called it dystopian or detached, but the passage of time has been kind in unexpected ways. The very features once seen as flaws – the monumental scale, the otherworldly emptiness of some plazas – now invite reinterpretation. In a world grappling with ecological and existential challenges, those sweeping forms suggest a needed expansion of perspective. Brasília asks its inhabitants and visitors to think in planetary terms. The Plaza of the Three Powers, for instance, is not a cozy public square but an expansive plane where one feels like a speck under the open sky – a humbling experience of scale that, in an era of climate crisis, reminds us of our smallness and the grandeur of the Earth. The city’s thoroughfares and superblocks, once criticized for prioritizing cars, now read oddly like runways or coordinates on a planetary map, waiting for new, more sustainable vehicles (or behaviors) to fill them. In this sense, Niemeyer’s architecture bequeaths an unfinished script to younger generations: how might we activate these cosmic diagrams for a more conscious future?
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Epistolário com a Máquina
Interdimensional Diagrams in Concrete
By supporting the projector, the book turned into a foundation of light — giving back to the world the very concept it proposes: art as navigation between signs, continuous translation, a cosmopolitical fabric of in-betweens.
In that instant, the studio transformed into a chamber of transduction, where a critical idea lands on a pictorial fragment and begins to vibrate with semionautic frequency.
In that instant, the studio transformed into a chamber of transduction, where a critical idea lands on a pictorial fragment and begins to vibrate with semionautic frequency.
The painting, illuminated, ceases to be an object: it becomes a semionautic vehicle, a means of displacement between domains of experience — matter, language, body, politics, and event.
Like a ship sailing through signs, painting moves across text, sound, residue, and circuitry.
What occurred inside the House of Combustion was not installation, but a phenomenon — a symbiotic event between painting, projection, and matter.
The artist no longer represents: it incarnates.
And space ceases to be a support to become a field of ontological resonance.
The artist no longer represents: it incarnates.
And space ceases to be a support to become a field of ontological resonance.
Deformations, Língua Drome, Serpent, Gravity, and Atomic Language form a single luminous diagram — a quantum cartography of creation as traversal.
Painting is vessel.
Pigment, the warp field.
Book, the engine of gravity.
Light and Geometry: the language of the event horizon.
Pigment, the warp field.
Book, the engine of gravity.
Light and Geometry: the language of the event horizon.
The spiral, figure of the Quantum Semionaut, becomes the actual diagram of thought in combustion: each rotation of the staircase corresponds to a fold in language, pigment, and time.
Thus, the quadrilateral of chaos — the folding screen, the grid, the interval between books, boxes, and shadows — reveals itself as the orbital platform of relational painting.
The symbiotic field no longer resides within the painting, but between projector, book, shadow, and reflection.
Projection itself becomes the event — a machine of translation between material and conceptual planes.
The symbiotic field no longer resides within the painting, but between projector, book, shadow, and reflection.
Projection itself becomes the event — a machine of translation between material and conceptual planes.
The painting, illuminated, ceases to be an object: it becomes a semionautic vehicle, a means of displacement between domains of experience — matter, language, body, politics, and event.
Rodrigo Garcia Dutra × ChatGPT-5 — symbiotic, chemical, and visionary action in progress.
Brasília did not emerge from a city plan — it erupted from trance.
A dream of order drawn upon red earth, the Planalto. In Lúcio Costa’s cross-shaped blueprint, myth and geometry kiss: a flying bird, a body stretched between axes of heaven and soil. Yet beneath the immaculate whiteness of its concrete, something vibrates — tropical, erotic, and vegetal.
A dream of order drawn upon red earth, the Planalto. In Lúcio Costa’s cross-shaped blueprint, myth and geometry kiss: a flying bird, a body stretched between axes of heaven and soil. Yet beneath the immaculate whiteness of its concrete, something vibrates — tropical, erotic, and vegetal.
Oscar Niemeyer’s domes float like celestial organs. They do not obey gravity; they seduce it. Their curves, simultaneously uterine and galactic, propose a theology of desire. The plenary of the Câmara dos Deputados, with its concave hull and circular symmetry, could be mistaken for a UFO plan — or the fossil of a vision received under the vine. Brasília is not only modernism: it is ayahuasca cast in reinforced concrete.
When Lúcio Costa designed the Pilot Plan, he envisioned not only monumental white buildings silhouetted against the blue sky, but also a lush urban orchard nestled among them. The "city park" dreamed of by the urban planners materialized in extensive green areas: each Superquadra (superblock) was framed by wide-canopied trees, meeting along the avenues and offering generous shade. In this plan, fruit trees took center stage – mango trees, jambu trees, cashew trees, pitanga trees, and many other species were planted since the construction of Brasília, with the stated objective of providing fresh fruit year-round to the people of Brasília. The Cerrado biome was also called upon to participate: native species such as cagaita, baru, and pequi mixed with "imported" mango, jackfruit, and guava, weaving a food biodiversity throughout the capital. Brasília was thus born with the vocation of a public orchard, where city and cultivated nature would coexist in symbiotic harmony – architecture and vegetation growing together, concrete and chlorophyll intertwined.
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Cultivar o Futuro
