Polyvinyl chloride (PVC) electrical tape is a material frequently used yet rarely acknowledged in lighting design—cheap, adhesive, temporary, and non-recyclable. It typically exists within the structural framework of an artwork, performing a crucial but concealed function.The creator deliberately suspends it in mid-air. Pulled by gravity, it undergoes a slow, irreversible process of stretching and deformation, eventually snapping and tangling due to material fatigue. Each strip of tape serves as an indicator of time; as it stretches day after day, it steadily approaches its own physical limits while simultaneously drawing the artwork closer to its ultimate "completion."

However, this completion is not a process of construction, but rather an accumulation of wear and tear. Every millimeter of elongation represents the fatigue and failure of the material.

The "completeness" of the artwork is directly proportional to its "waste generation." The more beautiful and fully formed it becomes, the closer it approaches structural collapse and resource depletion.

When an artwork is predicated entirely on consumption and adopts disintegration as its aesthetic, is the true essence of "creation" actually a form of slow self-destruction? Can art ever truly divorce itself from depletion and waste, and squarely confront the hidden costs behind it?