I'm kinda dumb bc no one understands me. I'm not sure if they ever could but it's much more explicit now. Ppl be like, oh I understand. You're evil.

The more reduced, compressed, the more homologous, the more something can be read, identified, its gestalt perceived as a simple vector/shape, the more you will encounter it in the world. It is the simplest form, the simplest pattern recognition, that accounts for the highest number of matches.

2d is obvious. It's a face, a skin. A surface of water, of rock. That which you can touch, feel the continuity of, fingers brushing across. Like a portal, a door, something to step through. Tip of the iceberg.

Taking any thought from the stream of consciousness, attempting to adapt it to a social environment, make it stand on its own legs, survive among other thoughts, commune and compete, is like the energy expent on water rendering it ice. Energy that would have flowed around within throughout. Prepositional energy. The taxonomical energy spent relating a thing to other things, discretizing and integrating to an existing order.

Bringing the private into the public is only to be expected, but who wants to claim they let down God when the direct recipient of your actions is right there in front of you?

Ironic that in being pushed out I would try desperately to get back in

Dumping more receipts in hopes of qwelling the blaze

This whole narrative of the past few years has been turning over a new leaf, not being this person I was. And now I'm realizing that was all part of the same person. That my whole, uh, woke, um, self-sabatoge, uh, self-flagellation? That that was all — in terms of turning over a new leaf, that's what I'm doing now — that that was all part of the … the problem.

Obviously that idea of triangulation that I had — bifurcating the self — that was forced upon me by a justice process. If you are innocent you are fully innocent. If you are guilty you are separated into an innocent and a guilty and the goal is to relinquish and purge the guilty from the underlying liberal innocent.

My body contains itself. I express myself: I cannot but be articulated.

Addicted to Instagram but what does that mean?

I mean it's like addicted to production reproduction. Like this cultural trap. Like I saw it coming. Like I'm doing it and it's ironic that I'm doing it and somehow I can allude to that ironical situation in a witty way.

It's like this thing just reproduces itself and uses my body for it and that's terrible and amazing. It's like I'm giving myself to something other than myself. It's like, speak to me muse! Speak to me fungus!

Explode a million spores from my head!

Idea of kind of art that puts you in a public situation and you stim as a response

My problem is someone says something and I don't understand but I nod my head anyway

Am i producing a silence? am i authoring it? on youtube i saw clickbait i wanted to see a problematic star get taken down but i also wanted to see that problematic in action as something titillating, forbidden as something just to confirm myself as outside of that to see a problematic force embodied outside of myself where all that direction of hatred would hopefully go and then somehow actually feeling participatory on the internet when i either open something in incognito mode or i just don't click on it i don't acknowledge that i don't participate in that reality the idea of youtube as the aggregated pseudo A.I. list of videos on the homescreen entirely tailored to me yet somehow still seeming universal a reality that i create through my own participation through my history strange to see a video from six years ago at 360p today there's 4k um resolution just the surface of the screen being the biggest metric of advancement really what else is there viral memetic culture seems part of its identity is that it seems arbitrary random there's an element in there of chaos as well as fate something that we all participate in revel in that participation cannot comprehend it there's also a sense of gangnam style a video i never saw really something i didn't help to create yet i feel included in that 'we' that created it i could see similarly cultural stars at a certain level kanye also provoking this in people a sense of how did we create this a polarized sense of dismay or jubilation this kind of resounding identification and and a sort of violence that seems to occur trump, same thing 'this is me, this is my identity' was this sort of subconscious of mine expressing itself?

What can you do ultimately? If you're qwoc you can participate in this representative system we have, liberalism. Your voice will channel many unheard voices. There is a moral demand for these voices to be heard. The need is tokenizing but you can play with this, use this platform and be used by it. It's not ideal but what would be better? There's a number of readings of anything but there's a certain default we are all aware of, that of clickbait, tabloids, reality TV, YouTube comments: women's bodies. And 'women' here being shorthand for young white women. It can be a woman with her back to us looking at an abstract painting, it doesn't matter. This is the currency. As I get older I feel less aware of reality as a state of flux. I look at how it exists, where it might be headed in the near future, when the next iPhone comes out. I've lost a sense of imagination. I've moved away from children as subjects because they skirt these issues. That's their main function really. There was some criticism of Amalia Ulman, like, is her work feminist or antifeminist? I could imagine an artist who works for decades in a feminist capacity that attracts little attention. And I could also imagine this same artist producing a single 'antifeminist' work that goes viral and everyone is asking, should we be paying attention to this? The allegations against Terry Richardson were reported as clickbait. Or at least this is how they circulated. Titillating copy packaged as moral outrage. It's just the same currency, in this case a sort of behind-the-scenes narrative aspect of its production, presented in a moral documentary framework. Assuming we're stuck with this currency, as we're stuck with patriarchy, all we can hope to do is redistribute it to those that have so far been exploited by it. But is that accomplished by authorship? At some point a sort of lesbian separatism seems to be the only way out. This is how I read Sophia Foster Domino's recent work. If there were men in these stories they just wouldn't work. That to me is an integral part of the fantasy. A group show of women curated by a woman exhibited in a gallery owned by a woman. That's getting somewhere. But as you can imagine, these things aren't airtight, there's always someone profiting, and men are in the best position to profit, so why wouldn't they? The question of what men should do isn't so compelling in a social justice sense. I don't really agree with any of the suggestions I've heard, other than basic ones like stop talking. Ultimately I don't believe change is possible. In terms of redistribution, wealth only begets more wealth. Giving it away is only going to give you moral wealth. Look at Germany. Your inheritance is all you ever have to work with. Melancholy is the basic political identity. But I don't really feel sad about it. It's more boring than anything.

The selfies seem contemporary because they're made by young people for their immediate peers. They seem unaware. They're fun. Like they're in front of a mirror. Most people on the internet are super not-fun because they act like they're under surveillance. But for every fun selfie there's a hundred that are trying to be fun and it's kind of this uncanny valley. Trying to act like a child but not pulling it off. I can depict this sort of performance reasonably well. 90% of the power my images hold over most people is derived from this ability, I think. Most people I know like to see their perfect self in the mirror. They locate their potential for perfection in whatever part of them has survived unchanged since childhood. So even the didactic aspect of my output has a childlike quality because it's the feeling that you're still in school. Tweens exist in this uncanny valley that's really scary for a lot of people. It triggers a sort of madonna/whore reaction. Poking this area requires some distance, some cynicism, maybe some academic language for extra protection. Satire is built-in to any sort of discussion about tweens. These selfies depict people who no longer have the stable identity of childhood but are nevertheless walking the thin tightrope over adulthood. This is a walk most of us take. Like most people, I'm entirely under the sway of sociology. I see children as pre-adults. They are interesting to read, a barometer for the future of society, but they aren't able to write yet, they don't have a voice to contribute. I think it is important to be able to change society, to have agency, and this is something that requires being an adult. The freedom that children experience comes at a cost. The idea of an individual changing society is so abstract and mythological it borders on the imaginary, and I work closer to the imaginary than you're supposed to, I think, as an artist, and it's really almost a childlike idea to think you have agency, and it's embarrassing to express that notion of agency, but I feel like I am this illustration of a person who has no role in society, who was trained to be a manager of managers but has no prospects aside from a vaguely defined massive social arena, where I'm occupied but not employed, and I'm concerned with meta structures but I can't understand the most basic societal structures (employment again), where I emerge from a lifetime of school and, not knowing what to do, continue to behave as if I'm in school. I think interest in tween culture can in part be attributed to anxiety over falling behind, losing your cultural relevance as things change, missing any opportunities that might occur, gaps that might open. The girls in the selfies seem confidently and intuitively in the present, whereas I feel like I am struggling to keep up with the past ten, twenty years.

committing to an idea, realizing a gesture, no matter how small - brainstorming even, mapping ideas - transforms potential energy into kinetic energy. even thought patterns - the reinforcement of neural pathways - inscribe limiting and increasingly structured parameters. but these structures allow for momentum to build. reinforced structures may trade broad potential for specific, linear exploration.

reading and writing are linear activities. one can instantly 'read' the gestalt of a book (for example, by looking at its cover) but only with the recognition that this gestalt is the 'first word' within a directional text. one can also immediately 'read' a painting as a painting, or a table as a table - a word as a word - and stop there. but the potential for linear reading always exists. a line viewed head-on appears to be a point.

i have been largely concerned with gestalt recently, and this has led to inaction. rather than texts (like this one) which extend a single line, i attempt to visual an entire text instantaneously. conceiving of certain points, imagining where intersections might occur if perspective is shifted. careful not to 'draw' these lines because of the linear nature of drawing. the seeming impossibility of non-linear creation within the linear context of time. the unavoidable loss of energy in transfer from potential to kinetic.

while working on 2001 i felt linear momentum that approximated that of 'reality'. a virtual world sustained by my own participation. recently i have felt less of a desire to escape the real world than to re-engage with it (with 2001 remaining a strong possibility). but how and for what purpose? i primarily experience privatized motives: to influence/engage the flow of cultural and monetary capital in a local setting, to form connections with others, to position oneself strategically within society, personal therapy.

the public reading of a text unalterably rewrites the text itself. the publishing company that publishes a work, the anthology that displays it, the store that sells it, these are determining factors in the creation of a text. language/design/gestalt is often the first word of a text. in this sense my attempt at nonlinear creation resembles linear writing, a line that runs from abstract (distributed authored object) to specific (individual private reading). am i simply stammering over the first word in a potential text?

To feel romantic, to experience oneself as a character, may be accompanied by a sense of loss -- a loss of agency. To feel fated. To feel scripted. To feel implicated. To feel mediated.

Sometimes I feel I am reading about myself in a book or watching myself in a movie. In these moments I feel romantic.

To feel romantic is to experience a continuity from one's past self into one's present self and/or to experience the present self as though it were in the past.

To see the present moment from afar - from the other side of a window, a mirror, a dimension (time) - is to align ones gaze with the gaze of the other while at the same time identifying with the object of the gaze itself. The dream of being in a movie is the dream of being able to possess ones own image, to be both consumer and producer.

Feeling romantic is similar to feeling nostalgic. To fool oneself into imagining the past as present. In the past and future everything is an image / a memory / words / music. Only in the present does the concrete exist.

As creator I am invisible and corporeal. Into this space I extend my body and mind.

The act of drawing - how quickly and spontaneously it occurs! The drawing occurs in a liquid moment. Comics freezes these moments, labels and indexes them. Crystalized liquid time.

What of the 'bad drawing' - the terrible, dream-like feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing your own image mutilated and deformed? Feelings of identification are replaced with feelings of alienation. The other stares back. A mistake is made - a slip of the hand, a miscalculated stroke - and the illusion of life is lost. What seemed like a person, a reflection, is revealed to be nothing more than marks on paper. If only this were the case - if only all life of the drawing slipped away. Instead there remains an eerie glint of something nearly human, nearly alive, but not quite.

The child, energetic, lying in bed, thinks rapidly in small circuits. I remember in 5th grade, a violent transition into goal orientation and loneliness - 'I didn't do anything today', I would sob - and the weight of this feeling would compound as the school year continued. Later on, the memory of being in love, feeling pure, timeless, and feeling asexual and monklike a year later - memories of bare floors, ganzfeld walls, the internet.

While drawing last night I found myself poking at the mouth of my character with a pen, attempting (without success) to gently push it open into a less sullen expression.

What would I do to let you "behind the curtain?" How would I behave? The child doesn't have a curtain / the child is nothing but a curtain // because it is not self conscious / because it is only self conscious.

flickr records each view of an image. tumblr records each like and reblog. as the shared reality of an image expands its privacy diminishes. the virgin image becomes the slut image.

branding is built into the internet and neoliberal public space. a couple reactions to this emerge: 1) sarcastic embrace of corporate values (power, property, expansion, modernism, helvetica, hierarchy, addition, multiplication, masculinity, relentlessness, glass, steel) 2) quiet embrace of the closed environment (subtraction, division, walls, children, naive, Montessouri, Quaker, garden, relax-in, relenting, arranging, sustaining)

a difference between exterior and interior space, perhaps. the public sphere vs the private sphere. or is it the other way around? facebook resembles the megamall atrium, echoing the voices of everyone inside. the corporate office. the comic convention. the megachurch. going to extravagant lengths to interiorize large groups of people. containment. crowd control.

When the reader is at a distance, flipping through pages, the characters look like cartoons.

Do we make art for others or do we make it for the other. Do we make art for the living or for the dead?