the simple life, the still.))

Dear society You are moving way too fast Way too fast for me I'm just tryna catch my breath Can I get a little peace of mind? And a little bit of silence to unwind Relief, do you need a relief, do you need a relief? Do you need a release, do you wanna be free? Do you wanna be free, do you wanna be free? Do you wanna be, can I get a little peace of mind? Dear society You are moving way too fast Way too fast for me I'm just tryna catch my breath - Avicii You are standing in an open field. I say this, knowing nothing about you. I am, too. Myself, I am my self. I try so hard to be, at least. A big self, a massive me. All that I consume, everything I make – all me. It should be. I scream for help and I buy to become. I’m an open wound bleeding out into the world, staining everything I touch. The things I eat, the clothes I wear, the stuff I buy. It’s real, my self. My material me. Become, don’t hide, because wherever you go, there you are. The realisation of the self, or self-realisation, has no end–an infinite project; a form of self-protection or an indifferent self projection? In the late-stage of post-history, the self itself has become a subject of mass-fetishisation – the primary cultural object of commodification. An era of psychopolitical atomisation. Content creators and influencers form the new proletariat. Resistance within a market operating on attention capital is inherently invisible, and attempts to withdraw from contemporary society and its culture of self-realisation as an endless extroverted project, have masochistic repercussions. Longings for an "escape from society" are instead fed back to us as easily digestible forms of entertainment such as reality TV and arena-pop – the consumption of which can only be considered relapse, leaving a yearning for more – of both evasion of stimuli, and stimuli itself. Building complete and warm survival shelter | Bushcraft earth hut, grass roof & fireplace with clay has 223 million views on youtube. the simple life, the still.)) is at once dissolved and multiplied through the gallery’s concurrent presentations. Through the act of addition, skins peel off towards a feverish dream, situated somewhere between a collective becoming and complete alienation.