Why a Number?

In an era of standardized existence — where everyone is already a number in data, consumer profiles, and administrative codes — it becomes increasingly difficult to truly be 'I'. The 'I' becomes an algorithmic residue.
48073 is not an assigned number, but a chosen one. Not capitulation, but appropriation. This is not a loss of identity, but resistance in abstract form.
Because whoever chooses a number avoids the illusion of individuality.

The Process

I work with what remains: packaging, fragments of old work. A painterly intervention anchors them in the present moment.

The painting is attacked and desecrated, halfway destroyed, sawn apart, cut up. The fragments are stitched, glued, nailed, and reborn. The work is organic: it lives, shrinks, expands.
The image is pushed to the edge, driven beyond until it falls into a fragile balance, hanging by a silk thread.

I begin from mental emptiness, intuitively. The image must make itself. It must emerge in an offhand manner. This apparent nonchalance is a meditative practice against will and ego.
I wait until the wanting subsides, restrain the gesture. Until suddenly — something arises. Apparently, I have begun.

 

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