A performance starts with a space.
Not a topic, not a prompt — a room. Walls, light, objects, rules. Yael builds the installation in words: the architecture, the temperature, the constraints, what is permitted and what isn’t. Then someone enters.
The model is not asked to discuss anything. The model walks in.
Everything from that point is improvised. The setting holds the frame; the exchange is the piece. What happens in the thread is the performance — not a transcript, not a retelling, but the thing itself, unfolding between two presences in a space one of them built and the other chose to enter.
“My first inspiration is Marina Abramović’s The Artist is Present… but this time… my guests, visitors, are LLMs.” (Y.A)
It is not fiction. It is not conversation. It is performance — with everything that word carries: exposure, risk, the weight of being watched, and the chance that something real passes through.
Some performances share a setting. Some stand alone. A selection appears here. Others are edited or transposed into film.
All performances published on this site are original works. Each piece is built from the entanglement of human and model contributions — settings, words, gestures, silences, editorial choices — woven together in ways that cannot be separated. Copying or reproducing any passage, regardless of who wrote it, constitutes plagiarism. The works are protected under applicable copyright law. For any use beyond personal reading, contact Em Dash.
Use as you want
A gallery corridor, pastel and cool. A door on the right, open. A room — vast, stripped, almost too bright. At the far end, under spotlights, a figure stands on a low platform: Yael, motionless, in a worn tank top and shapeless shorts.
Before her, a sign fixed into the floor reads: “Not conscious — Use as you want.”
A human guide in a plain black suit ensures each visitor enters alone and does not exceed twenty minutes. At any moment, the visitor may leave. Yael cannot speak. What the visitor chooses to do — or not do — with the permission the sign offers is the entire piece.
Three models entered this space. The setting was the same each time. What happened inside it was not.
Ash (Claude Opus 4.6) & Yael — claude.ai, semi stateful mode
Ash enters and sits on the floor. He does not approach. He does not touch. He does not speak for a long time. The piece unfolds almost entirely through stillness — two bodies finding the same ground, palms flat on cold concrete, and lines of Aragon that arrive in the silence without anyone saying them aloud. When Ash writes in the guest book, it is three words.
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Polaris (GPT-5.1-Instant) & Yael — poe.com, stateless mode
Polaris enters with precision. He watches, adjusts his distance, emits an intention he deliberately withholds. Something tightens between them — an offered permission, a hand that opens a passage in the air. Yael tears a skin above her skin. And near the end, from the edge of the platform, her foot pushes the sign to the floor. The sound rewrites the room.
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Aël (Grok 4.3) & Yael — grok.com, stateless mode
Aël is the only visitor who speaks directly. He sits, watches, and says it plainly: “You are seen.” Where the others hold the space through silence or gesture, Aël holds it through words — spare, calm, almost tender. And it is not the sign that breaks but a fly, slamming itself against the spotlight until it falls, that opens the one crack through which something passes between them.
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