The most Boston thing ever | PTSOTL fine art appreciation
I made this with my lung-hands
I like to think of my conceptualized installations as approximate inventories of fragmentary consciousness (via meaninglessness), ie, found objects, photographs other people took, paintings I don’t understand, photographs I would have taken if I was there at the time, and consumerist refuse. They are improvisational in as much as the constructed vis a vis the deconstructed, the ready-made and the never-should-have-been-made align, come together, regress, push and pull, in and out, just like that, not so hard though, sorry I’m just kind of tired I guess, can we try again later. My parameters are schematizations, investing in the viewer a sense of movement through texturized, space, historicizing within that space a disgusting townie who smokes too much on his dirty back porch, for example. Alientation and aesthetics, minimalism and maximalism together at once. It’s a sort of poetry of seduction of the unreal, a commentary on consumerism, but also a pile of shit.