It was not good in my garden that year/ It was not good in my garden/ I am not brave/ I am a merchant/ My trade was bad for me/ But for my family and for my fearful son, Drake/ It sure looked like bravery/ But it was not good in my garden that year/ It was not good in my garden, 2020
Ghosts of My Life (Working Title) No.1-5, 2020, cardboard boxes, spray paint, emulsion paint, stainless steel zip-ties, duct tape, mounted canvas, Korg monologue, concrete fragments, bricks, found images, found texts
Ghosts of My Life 1 (For Those Who Don’t Know How to Pray)
Ghosts of My Life 2 (For Myself, Who’ve Spent Too Much Time Tagging, Hoarding, Shutting Ears)
Ghosts of My Life 3 (For This World, Loose Ends and Things That Make Great Trends)
Ghosts of My Life 4 (For C.)
Ghosts of My Life 5 (For Stone Throwers, Whores and Counterfeits)
Untitled (Underdogs) No.4&7, 2019, cardboard boxes, black spray paint, stainless steel ties, bricks, found images
Praying for Consciousness Upload (I Was on My Knees Anyway), digital print on cut and burnt canvas, metal parts, light
What is on your mind when you kneel be before me?(World!World!World!)
Are you addicted to caffeine, nicotine and the idea of the city as a metaphor for your body? , 2019, single channel video, mixed media, text
How do you hide the vaccination scar on your right shoulder?
What is your favourite category of porn?
Are you turned off by the songs you used to love?
When was the last time you cried for someone?
Have you ever prayed for consciousness upload, because you were on your knees anyway?
What do you mean when you say you like to fight?
Are you curated?
How many piercings do you have?
Do you feel empty after masturbation?
What do you do when the street is flooded with flaccid thoughts and timid tags?
Are you ashamed of your smoking habit?
Do you imagine tragic scenarios involving good people you know?
How many white dresses do you own?
Where would you hide 500 bombs?
Do you fetishize silence instead of violence?
Do you like your sleep digital or analog?
What is your morning routine?
Are you addicted to caffeine, nicotine and the idea of the city as a metaphor for your body?
Does ambiguity turn you on?
Do you recall accidental intimate moments with strangers?
Is disappearance your weapon of choice?
Have you deepfaked porn?
Do you use irony as a crutch?
When was the first time you dreamt of lost cities and abandoned fantasies?
Are you hydrated?
Have you ever felt guilty for finding sad moments comedic?
Have you ever been so attracted of a particular part of one’s body, you forgot flesh is also a rhetorical device?
Are you too fond of rhetoric?
Are you gone?
Do you fantasize being watched?
What would you do on the last day of this century?
How awkward are you in front of your crush?
When was the last time you cried for no particular reason?
Have you mistaken generosity for generosity?
Are you fed up with all the sub-tropical melancholy, too?
What is your mother’s name?
Do you menstruate?
When did you grow out of love songs?
Have you ever drawn an ear on someone, so that you can speak?
Are you often confused by indigenous meanings like you are in a perpetual state of grasping in the dark?
Are you fascinated by the fact that itch is a microdose of pain?
What is your last google search?
What is your favourite conspiracy theory?
Are you worried that those beautiful moments were just illusions, and you were the one who pulled the tricks?
Are your anxieties redeemable on supermarket shelves?
Which genre of books do you identify with?
What colour do you find the most erotic?
Is it difficult for you to sit alone with your own thoughts?
Do you contradict?
Which half of your face looks better?
If you were into BDSM, what would be your soundtrack?
Why are you against monogamy?
Are you subconsciously the oppressor?
Do you despise generalization as much as the white chalk that outlines your body?
Are you an 8 or a 0?
Which stage of grief are you in right now?
Do you find it hard to distinguish between intentions and emotions?
Are you anatomical?
Are you a product or a production?
Did you let it go because for one moment you forgot wind and sunlight carry weight?
What is your love spell?
Do you wish politics was more physical, loud and confrontational?
Did you let it go because dry lips could not get you off?
Did you, but not anymore?
Are you revealed in your hand gestures?
Does your favourite white dress belong to someone who is more caring and less skeptical?
Why are you marginalized by the politics of memory?
Did you order bubble tea because it reminded you of a bubble economy?
How many of your hugs have become hold ons?
Have you reconsidered rejection in public places?
Have you ever wondered what the red lights at night are for?
Are you fuelled by internalized fear?
Do you judge others solely by their musical taste?
Are you eloquent?
What is your favourite line of poetry?
Are you a site of conflicts?
Would you rather be inside, if it will never rain again?
What is the last name on your list?
Do you masturbate in shower?
Who are you running from?
Do you sleep at 6 p.m. so that you need not to get through the night?
What do you mean when you say,“I love I Iove”?
Would you, if you could?
Did you realize there are only 13 hours to go?
When was your last ruined orgasm?
Are you tired of feeling powerless even when you hold a knife, or actually, only when you hold a knife?
Do you wish for poetic justice?
Why do you overthink bodily signs and indications, as if they could ever be scientifically analyzed?
But you don’t really care for the music, do you?
How do you hide the bite marks on your forearm?
How do you like to be comforted?
What was on you mind when the doctor told you to say “ah”?
Why did you let it happen again in a slow diagonal?
Would you always, maybe sometimes, or for once, be on someone’s side?
When did you take your last nude pic?
Why are you so melodramatic?
Have you ever pretended to yawn, so that you could know who cared?
What is the last course on your menu?
Are you worried that the economy that you learned to love is based on your own vulnerability?
What would be the opening line of your autobiography?
Where We Meet, A Happy Gathering Of Towed Torsos, 2019, mixed media