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The Velvet Hum of Disco Necrosis.
Lately I’ve been thinking about how strange it is that we can be in constant contact with each other and still feel emotionally miles away. Everything softly humming in the background. Notifications, conversations, performances, distractions. A sort of elegant exhaustion.
This came out of that atmosphere.
The work moves through fragmented bodies, synthetic colour, nervous systems and soft architectural spaces that feel somewhere between memory and interface. Parts of it feel seductive to me, parts of it slightly unwell. Which, in fairness, seems like a pretty accurate description of modern life.
A lot of the painting was built intuitively, but the thread running through it was this idea of psychological cubism, the self split across too many signals, too many versions of itself, too much visibility.
A quiet kind of collapse dressed up as connectivity.
This came out of that atmosphere.
The work moves through fragmented bodies, synthetic colour, nervous systems and soft architectural spaces that feel somewhere between memory and interface. Parts of it feel seductive to me, parts of it slightly unwell. Which, in fairness, seems like a pretty accurate description of modern life.
A lot of the painting was built intuitively, but the thread running through it was this idea of psychological cubism, the self split across too many signals, too many versions of itself, too much visibility.
A quiet kind of collapse dressed up as connectivity.
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