Personal project. Built from recycled toys, e-waste, and blind optimism.

Duck Vision began with a question: What if a duck could film its own life?
The answer, as it turns out, involves wheels, a dash cam, and several pieces of old technology glued together with unreasonable confidence.

This mechanical duck roams public spaces, recording everything it sees from ground level — pavements, ankles, the occasional pigeon — all through its own jittery lens. The result is a strangely intimate portrait of the world from a creature who doesn’t technically exist.

Part sculpture, part surveillance device, part misplaced children’s toy, Duck Vision explores how objects watch us back. Every wobble of its little head feels like a thought. Every turn of its wheel, a decision.

Online, the duck lives again as a 3D scan — a ghost of itself, floating serenely in the digital pond. Together, these versions blur the line between object and observer, toy and tool, duck and deity.

It’s pointless, its daft, its entertaining. Its art, probably.