PRESS RELEASE

The term tipping point encapsulates the moment in time when a previously straightforward and predictable trend abruptly stops, changes direction, or suddenly accelerates. The ability to start and the (alleged) freedom to act are innately human and fragile. Everything around us can be gone tomorrow. Being in crisis means finding oneself in a state of uncertaint or just before decision time. The conflict speeds up, escalates, and brings about a change that might not necessarily be the one desired. A seemingly endless stacking of moments until the transitory moment Ancient Greeks called peripeteia. Climate change. War. Pandemics. Danger – and everything else that conjures our fears – is cloaked in fragility. It makes us watch our step, be wary of new technologies, and fear AI that can radically transform the world like a monster lurking in the dark. There’s danger out to get us and it’s reflected in our own identity. Handle with care. Being fragile means being vulnerable and helpless to prevent the last safety line from slipping away. It forebodes the disruptions waiting for us in militant tech dystopias. Greek tragedies describe the fine line between order and chaos, logic and emotion, lucky chance and uncontrollable fate. Strong or weak. Solid or fluid. By showing us the worst possible outcome, tragedy also tames our fears. Fragility is the loose connection, the tenderness that is just enough to establish a contact, all while knowing it cannot last. In fragility lies security, and in vulnerability lies mindfulness – of oneself and the collective. Being exposed makes us more caring. This, in turn, protects us. Fragility is the story of prudence. There’s hardly anyone alive who hasn’t been put back together. Whose cracks aren’t showing. Who isn’t a little broken. Fragility is here and now. It’s the point at which everything starts, on the cusp of when the past replaces the present. At its core, this brooding uncertainty is what we’re all trying to forget. We worry constantly. And you?