№ 05Process · The World · 2026 → ongoing

Inside my mind.

How this website became a place you walk through. A block world in the wrong colours, one building for every page, my head in the middle of it and the door in my mouth. This dossier is open. The world is not finished and does not intend to be; every change to it is logged on this page, with a picture, the day it is made.

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Range 4 Oct 2026 → ongoing
Sites · Bengaluru · New York · wherever you are
Medium · Block world · no game engine · 25 rooms
Record · part of RKK-LAB-070 · the website
Open it · raghavakkstudio.com/world
The landing in the World: the painted block head ahead with its tongue out, buildings wearing paintings on either side, a violet ground and a dark sky
Where you land. My head, the tongue out, the buildings on either side. Everything in this dossier was photographed inside the world.
Walk in → What to look for ↓ The log ↓
“People looked at the site, said nice, pretty, and walked away without getting that it is one piece. So I made it a place. You enter my head through the tongue.” Me · 4 October 2026
01The brief

Minecraft, but the colours are wrong.

The brief was five sentences, said out loud on the morning of 4 October and built the same day. It has not changed.

It should look like you have entered Minecraft, but the colours should be wrong.the ground, the sky, the head
You walk. No flying.arrow keys, a click, a thumb
One building for every page, and each building is the thing the page is about.a pen, a book, a flask, a camera
The first thing you see is my head. You go in through the tongue.the studio is inside
It should tell you what you have not seen yet, so you keep poking around.lit rooms, dark rooms, a count
02
WeatherYours, and two suns

If it is raining where you are, it is raining in here.

The world has your weather. Not a forecast for Bengaluru or New York: the weather outside your own window, right now, drawn all around you in the world's wrong colours. Low, flat, blocky clouds drift with the real wind, as many as the real cloud cover. Rain falls from under them, light or heavy, leaning with the wind, and stops on the roofs, on the temple and on my head, so it never rains inside the mouth or in the sanctum. Drizzle, snow, sleet, fog and mist each have their own way of falling. In a storm a cloud glows softly from inside now and then. Nothing asks where you are: the world reads the city your connection already carries, rounds it off, asks the Norwegian weather service, and keeps only the weather, never the place. The first time it shows, one line appears: it is raining where you are, so it is raining in here.

Rain falling from blocky clouds over the head and the buildings
RainFrom under the clouds, leaning with the wind
Heavy rain, most clouds raining, shafts in the distance
Heavy rainMost of the clouds, and some round you
Snow flakes drifting over the world
SnowFlakes from the clouds, a flurry round you
The world in fog, the far buildings gone
FogThe world's own fog pulled in close
A storm at night, a cloud lit from inside
Storm, at nightA cloud glows from inside now and then
Rain around the head, none falling on it
It never rains on the head.A height map of every roof in the world stops the rain where something stands.
Snow over the temple's ghost and its half-built gate
Snow on the temple.The weather is yours; the temple is still building toward December 10 underneath it.

Two suns, two clocks, and neither is yours.

I live between Bengaluru and New York, so the world has two suns. Bangalore's rises in the east and sets in the west on Indian time. New York's rises behind my head and sets toward where you landed, on New York time. The sky tints toward whichever is higher. One of them is almost always up, so the world is never fully night, and if you come back at a different hour the light has moved. The name of the city and its time hang under each sun.

The head under a reddish dawn sky, New York's sun just risen behind it
New York · 6:50 AMDawn behind the head, the sky goes to rust
The head with New York's sun high above it, its name and time written under the sun
New York · 8:30 AMBangalore · 6:00 PM, both up at once
Looking east over the plot of the shared sculpture in Bangalore's morning
Bangalore · 6:20 AMLooking east, over the sculpture we are all making
Looking away from the head toward the edge of the world at New York's dusk
New York · 6:00 PMThe sun sets toward the landing and the edge
The head at night, lamps lit on the buildings
Bangalore · midnightNew York · 2:30 PM. The lamps on the buildings stay lit

The other weather is mine. With ADHD mode on, from your second visit the rooms will not hold still: the buildings in each ring swap places, and one building is missing, a dark patch where it stood. And there is an edge. Eighty-eight blocks out, the floor stops, the ground says This is beyond my conscious mind, and the world will not let you go further. Past it, half-placed blocks hang in the dark where I have not figured myself out yet.

The edge of the world: a dark ground with wire blocks hanging in the air and the words This is beyond my conscious mind
The edge.Push against it and the ground tells you why you cannot go on.
The map from above in Restless mode, the rooms shuffled
Restless.ADHD on, second visit: the rooms have moved and one is missing. Still mode: nothing moves.
03
What to look forTwelve things, in order

Ten minutes is enough if you know where to press.

Click a building and you are walked there. Press E at a door to go in. M lifts you above the world. B gives you a block. Esc stops anything. On a phone, a thumb stick walks you and a tap takes you in.

The mouth of the head up close, the tongue as a ramp
1 · The tongue.Walk up it. The head is the Studio, the only building you can go inside.
Inside the head: a pale gallery hall, toys on plinths, paintings on the walls, a sign reading The Rotunda, The Toys
2 · The hall inside.A museum in my head: the series on the walls, the toys in the rotunda. Click a painting to open it.
Writings, a pen driven into the ground with red ink pooled, its surface a repeated painting
3 · The buildings wear my paintings.Each one is dressed in a crop from the series its page is about, repeated block by block.
The temple gateway under construction behind the head, scaffold up, the finished temple as a dark silhouette
4 · The temple is building itself.A little every day until the show opens on December 10. The dark shape is what it will be.
A rough sculpture of coloured blocks on a pale square of ground
5 · Made by all of us.One block per visitor on the pale ground to your right, nobody in charge. Press B.
The block panel open: twelve colours, a glowing cell on the ground where the next block will go
6 · Placing yours.Pick a colour, point at a face or the ground, click. It stays, for everyone. Three a day.
Faint translucent figures walking near the tongue
7 · Ghosts.The faint ones are the people who walked here before you, replaying their walks.
A small block figure with grey hair standing by the pen of Writings, the temple ghost behind
8 · Me, live.When I am on the site, a figure of me stands at the page I am on. Four gods walk their own rounds; click one to follow it.
The world from above: the head in the middle, roads to every building, the temple's long footprint behind
9 · The map.M lifts you up. Drag to pan, scroll to zoom, click a place and you come down and walk there.
A card showing a paper drawing: the head from above, dots for rooms, a red line for the walk, titled My walk through Raghava KK's head
10 · Your walk, as a drawing.A sheet of your route through my head, to keep or to share.
The world with its list of rooms on the right, lit and dark, and the count of rooms seen at the bottom
11 · The count.Lit rooms you have opened, dark ones you have not. At 25 of 25 it says: or so you think.
Wire outlines of blocks hanging in the dark past the edge of the world
12 · Past the edge.The unfinished part. You can see it. You cannot walk there.
04
The roomsOne building per page

Every page is a thing, and every thing wears a painting.

The rooms stand in rings by how close they are to me: Writings, the Lineage, the Library and Process nearest the head; the Studio, Excavate, Talks, Toys, the Lab and Calling All Gods in the middle; Becoming Archived, Press, the Record, Search and the hidden things far out. Lit means you have opened that page. Dark means not yet, and a dark building shows its painting dimly.

A pen driven into the ground, red ink pooled, wearing a Figure painting
Writings.A pen driven into the ground. Wears a Figure.
A tree with lit fruit, wearing Impossible Bouquet 2.0
How the series made each other.A tree, one lit fruit per series. Wears Impossible Bouquet 2.0.
An open book with a red bookmark, its cover the History series lettering
The Library.An open book, red bookmark. Wears the History series.
A leaning stack of dossiers wearing an Edges painting
Process.A leaning stack of dossiers, the four folders beside it. Wears the Edges.
A microphone on a stand with an on-air light, wearing Sublime Machines
Talks.A microphone with an on-air light. Wears Sublime Machines.
A many-armed toy god on a plinth, wearing a Toy Faces painting
Toys.A many-armed god on a plinth. Wears Toy Faces.
A flask with pink liquid and bubbles rising, wearing Sublime Machines
Restless Lab.A flask, bubbles rising. Wears Sublime Machines.
A mound with a shovel in it, wearing Catch 'em if you can
Excavate with me.A mound with a shovel, five finds strewn about. Wears Catch 'em.
A camera with a flash, wearing a black and white MTF painting
Press.A camera with a flash. Wears Sublime Machines in black and white.
Archive boxes with a lid pushed off, wearing a Guernica painting
Becoming Archived.Archive boxes, one lid pushed off. Wears a Guernica.
A column with a flame on top, wearing Eye Candy marks
The record.A column with a flame. Wears Eye Candy.
A magnifying glass standing on the ground, wearing Impossible Bouquet 2.0 in blue
Search.A magnifying glass. Wears Impossible Bouquet 2.0 in blue.
The Writings pen in flat colour, before the paintings
Before the paintings.The same pen in flat colour, how the whole world looked until the morning of 9 October.
The Writings pen dark, its painting dim, not yet visited
Not yet.A room you have not opened shows its painting dimly.
A hatch in the ground with a red pip, far out
Things I hid.A hatch with a red pip, in the far ring. Wears the Orgasm Project in wire.
05
The templeBehind the head, until December 10

A temple that builds itself a little every day.

Calling All Gods opens at Parsons in New York on December 10. Behind my head, on the axis of the tongue, a temple is going up toward that day: a gateway, a colonnade, a pavilion with a black bull, a hall, a sanctum with a god and two lamps, a nine-tier tower, a kalasha on top. It is built in the order a real site would be, gateway first, kalasha last, with scaffold round whatever is rising that week. The finished temple stands there from day one as a dark ghost, and fills in. A site board by the gate fills gold as it goes. On the day the show opens, the temple is complete.

Built so far
The temple at the start: a gateway rising behind the head, the rest a silhouette
OctoberThe gateway and the colonnade
The temple a quarter built
Late OctoberThe bull's pavilion
The temple half built
Early NovemberThe hall
The temple with its sanctum rising
Mid NovemberThe sanctum
The temple with most of its tower
Early DecemberThe tower
The finished temple, gold, magenta, violet and teal, the kalasha on top
December 10The kalasha. The show opens
The temple gate from the path, scaffold round the piers, the ghost of the tower behind
Today, from the path.Scaffold on the gateway, the colonnade's first pillars, the tower only a shadow.
The whole temple complex from the side as a dark silhouette with only the gate built
The ghost.Everything not yet built stands where it will be, dark, so you can see what is coming.
06
The logEvery change, dated

Built in days, out loud.

The whole world was built in conversation, by voice, over five days, with Claude doing the building and me walking in and saying what was wrong. The log keeps what I asked for in my words and what changed in reply. New entries go at the bottom. If you are reading this months from now, scroll down: it has grown.

07How it is made

No engine. One draw call.

There is no game engine and no library. The world is a small renderer written for this one page, so it stays light enough for a phone and inside the site's own rules about what code may run. The whole outside world is one buffer drawn in one go. The paintings on the buildings come from one picture, a grid of eighteen crops. The head is my ceramic sculpture, the one with the leopard spots and the tongue, rebuilt in half-blocks. The temple is my reference drawing laid over the plan of the Brihadisvara temple at Thanjavur.

  • Made byRaghava KK with Claude. The paintings on the buildings, the phone build and the weather on the same day, 9 October 2026.
  • RendererWebGL, written for the page. About 225,000 vertices outside, one draw call, one 302 KB texture atlas, no shadows, flat sun and fog.
  • The headFrom the painted ceramic head, in half-block voxels: the third eye, the rosettes, the tongue as a ramp.
  • The templeGopuram, colonnade, Nandi pavilion, mandapa, garbhagriha, vimana, kalasha. Built day by day from the site's opening on 5 October to the show's on 10 December, New York time.
  • SharedThe sculpture's blocks, the ghosts' walks and my presence live in one small store on the server. If it is down, the world carries on without them.
  • PhonesA thumb stick, drag to look, tap to go, folded into the live page on 9 October. A phone that cannot hold twenty frames a second gets the flat list instead.
  • WeatherMET Norway's forecast for the rounded-off place your connection already names; no location prompt, the place never stored. Three draw calls, at most 3,600 drops or flakes, half on a phone; it thins itself if the frame rate sinks. Reduced motion gets clouds and fog only.
  • Not finishedThe edge signs wait for my words. The god in the sanctum is a stand-in until I say which of the seven it is. The gods' rounds are Claude's; their names are mine.
CodaOpen

It is a world because it keeps changing.

A map is finished when it is printed. This one grows a temple, collects a sculpture from strangers, keeps the ghosts of everyone who walked through, and moves its own buildings when I am restless. Whenever it changes, the change goes in the log above, the same day, with a picture. The last entry is dated at the top of this page.

Walk in →