Ever employed
this man?

Coworker beliefs stages a fragmented skin, draped over a wooden valet stand. At first glance, the installation evokes a workplace changing room, a transit zone where each evening one hangs up the uniform and the identity that goes with it. Here, the clothes are no such thing. This is a moult.

Behind this innocuous displacement, a belief surfaces that is often passed around between breaks or in the margins of the internet: the conviction that the ruling class cannot, under any circumstances, be human. That their appearance is nothing but a disguise, a uniform worn to blend in among us. That somewhere beneath the costume lives something entirely other. Something cold, unfathomable. Extraterrestrial.

Coworker beliefs inhabits this doubt, blurring the lines between the exhausted worker and the post-human administrator, between corridor talk and ontological suspicion. The skins are empty, still warm. They hang there not as relics but as evidence: the body has withdrawn, but something remains on standby, ready to take shape again.