In Jurassic Park: Magic Word (3.5” Black), Arlo Sinclair transforms a 3.5” floppy disk into a tongue-in-cheek relic of cinematic and technological failure. Hand-painted with exquisite detail, the work revisits the 1993 film’s most infamous line—Dennis Nedry’s smug “Ah ah ah, you didn’t say the magic word”—repurposed here on a distressed label marked “SECURITY SYSTEM: REBOOT DISK.” The disk is signed “D.N.,” an allusion to the programmer whose sabotage plunges the park into chaos.

The use of the floppy disk as medium is integral to the satire. Once a symbol of cutting-edge digital storage, the floppy is now hopelessly obsolete—its 1.44 MB capacity a laughable safeguard for something as monumental as Jurassic Park’s security system. Sinclair seizes this absurdity, collapsing cinematic fiction, technological history, and cultural memory into a single object. The disk becomes a fossil of misplaced faith in fragile infrastructures, a parody of both corporate hubris and the illusions of control promised by technology.

The scuffed, weathered surface of the label enhances the sense of fragility, evoking the erosion of both memory and trust. By framing the disk as artwork, Sinclair elevates a disposable piece of tech into a cultural monument, continuing his practice of mining obsolescence for satire.

Jurassic Park: Magic Word encapsulates Sinclair’s fascination with how outdated technologies can be recast as vessels of narrative and critique. By marrying the humble floppy with Hollywood mythology, he highlights the absurd dependency on systems destined to fail—whether computer programs or human ambition. The piece stands as both homage and lampoon, a reminder that the “magic word” of progress often masks the fragility lurking beneath..