Artist Statement

For the entirety of my art practice and life in general, I’ve been haunted by the question, “can anybody feel anything anymore?” This is not an accusatory curiosity about The Art World™ and all its underlings/overlords but rather an introspective wondering about the forced repression of [REDACTED] by numerous go-getters and hideous head-splitters in their shallowly utopic yet ultimately nihilistic mission to grow and glow. They conspired and congealed together to grow into a nine-foot-tall Man much taller than my slender husk, and we keep praising this Man for all the damage he’s done. 

This Man is dressed in a suit of Digital-Medieval armor made of graphene-reinforced carbon fiber and tungsten enchanted with hypermagic inscriptions, inscriptions about activism, fearlessness, subversion, and dissent. Little do we know how this Man has been extracting and refining blood from his knives/arrows from the corpses of a hundred-million tender souls to make ink for his face tats. But we would eventually see that this Man’s creations are hollow, just a symptom of his parasitic life on the lives of fundamentally loveable beings.

Oh what is a mind for but to murder this Man in streams of our warm blood?

(thenn i took my benzos)