THIS IS A FRAUD
- Master Fine Art
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When I pressed publish on this page, an editor immediately started making structural changes to the content, changing the order of presentation, beyond my control or consultation. I asked for those changes to be reverted, and they were. Still, as a consequence of this, none of the following can be guaranteed to be genuinely my own.
As soon as I started attempting to copy and paste the following work over, I realised that even the barest most basic options of how to present the text has been denied me here. — In a system apparently designed to teach, …you know, I just don’t have the energy to repeat it again, it makes me depressed to the point of suicidal ideation, just go read any of the Piet Zwart or WdKA “mission statements” and then come back here and tell me if they’re compatible with “you can have bold and italic, and two font sizes, one of which is serif and one of which is sans, and not in the way you’d expect” (note how I took full advantage, there).
Maybe it sounds silly to someone made of stronger stuff, but not only does it make me want to give up, confused at how they’re even still expecting my cooperation in “presenting myself”, it also makes me irrationally angry at the people who thought any of it was a good idea. Being asked to express myself on a beige background. It’s just a single grain of this package, the whole of which makes me feel like either they or me are no longer part of Team Human, their whole thing is so mindnumbingly alien, and/or alienating.
Squeezing human expression into ever tinier boxes of uniformity does not benefit humanity, it only ever benefits systems seeking to extract value and exploit the humans involved. Monopolisation of our commons, exploitative mediation of expression, is an issue facing any digitalized society (while admittedly heavily overshadowed by “current events”, at the moment). This entire catalogue setup, however well-meaning, unavoidably appears to me as WdKA etc. explicitly declaring their willing participation in those mechanisms, their interest firmly rooted and prioritised in the well-being of that system, rather than any of its student or graduating participants. (Too harsh? Yeah, probably. As you can presumably tell from the work below, I’m not in a good position to judge.)
Ironically, one of the ways the following work applies some of the above is by aligning its text as “justified”, which has been made unavailable to me here. So, this is what you get instead, the entire thing as chunked images, screenshot from another slightly more functional word editor. The level of effort this farce deserves. Don’t read it.
Ah, but this is art connoisseur territory, right? We wouldn’t know if a work was good or not until we’ve read and considered the “International Art English” summary dribble they’ve taught me to pull out of my own backside at a moment’s notice [It’s so important, in fact, that it almost made its way to the top of this page, outside of my control]. Fine, here:
The work is a written performance which consists entirely of an angry and deliberately excessively analytical diatribe against myself, the positions I hold, and all institutions and countries I’m currently invested in. Addressing the fundamental hypocrisies of art institutions in general and PZI/WdKA/HR specifically, my own hypocrisy in participating in them, and the utter futility of institutional critique. Considers the degree to which this kind of performed opposition is welcomed, subsumed and corrupted by the institutions, as culturewashing of blood money, reinforcing and perpetuating fossilised power structures. A clear and exemplified mismanagement of the text itself is demonstrated in its visual presentation to an audience, whether digital or physical. Establishing an open question of whether I am exposing a fraud or perpetrating it. Malicious compliance. A semantic equivalent to Jean Tinguely’s self-destroying sculptures. Expressed meta-ironically as performative sincerity, calculated emotional outbursts, and an environmentally damaged speculative intellectualism.
My ticket to the big leagues, baby.-Me, obviously