One of my earliest childhood memories is drinking my mum’s Milk and Kool-Aid mix when strawberry milk was out of our budget. It tasted rancid. But beyond that lactic betrayal, something else lingered in the taste: improvisation as survival.

Growing up, I also remember neighbours swapping hacks to make something out of nothing – like stretching meals with potatoes and soggy old bread – bathed in the flickering light of a TV showing a deformed love scene, fixed with a dry slap on top and a few careful tweaks to a bent coat hanger antenna. Signals of hope, barely caught. Life around us was a chimera of things made from other things. A hotchpotch lab of survival.

Years later, I see those same instincts reborn and rebranded online under the name Inteligencia Artesanal – a tongue-in-cheek response to the sterile promises of AI. Not an outright rejection of technology, but a reassertion of the irreplaceable wit of human invention in moments of scarcity. Visual gestures born from necessity.