What was once sincere, is no longer. This eroded imagery, visual ideas in their very becoming, attempts to capture a fleeing moment. Illegibility gives way to fiction, gives way to parareality, where it does not matter if any of this ever even happened. It is a story of the self, the extreme self in its hyper-real day out. Or perhaps of a scrambled past, the fractured memory of a generation with too many tabs open. It is a labyrinth that hides its keys well.
What was once sincere, is no longer. This eroded imagery, visual ideas in their very becoming, attempts to capture a fleeing moment. Illegibility gives way to fiction, gives way to parareality, where it does not matter if any of this ever even happened. It is a story of the self, the extreme self in its hyper-real day out. Or perhaps of a scrambled past, the fractured memory of a generation with too many tabs open. It is a labyrinth that hides its keys well.