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my goal isn’t the louvre or the fuckin tate or any museum. it’s to be printed on gas station sex pills. or on a billboard next to a personal injury attorney. or to be sold next to fuckable plush snuggies on QVC. my goal is to be the asphalt we walk on.
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this holiday season, make sure to gift your loved ones something that will render them physically ill and questioning your sanity. pulverize them into shattered ornaments meant to maim a drunken thief.
cherish the awkward silence that accompanies a confusing, unfit gift.
cherish the awkward silence that accompanies a confusing, unfit gift.
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fall is in the air. which means pumpkin spiced edible ugg boots are back in stock at participating starbucks. imagine shitting your pants and filling your stomach up with the hottest tik tok trend since welding mr. beast lunchables to your junk. horrifically back.
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I spent the summer harvesting fireflies
in an old jar of pace salsa
later placing it on top of a tower of
surveillance cameras
their attempt to find love
in a glass prison
powered the lenses
that watched people fuck or kill
or huff things from old flags
when the summer was over
the jar went dark
but people still fucked or killed or huffed
despite the absence of glow
in an old jar of pace salsa
later placing it on top of a tower of
surveillance cameras
their attempt to find love
in a glass prison
powered the lenses
that watched people fuck or kill
or huff things from old flags
when the summer was over
the jar went dark
but people still fucked or killed or huffed
despite the absence of glow
it gets worse.
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we photographed bed sores
to train a model
on how to describe the perfect
pecan pie
we didn’t understand why
it needed pictures of crumbling skin
to satisfy its data
or why pie was made to look like wounds
but people baked things
that were found under sheets at hospitals
on thanksgiving
to train a model
on how to describe the perfect
pecan pie
we didn’t understand why
it needed pictures of crumbling skin
to satisfy its data
or why pie was made to look like wounds
but people baked things
that were found under sheets at hospitals
on thanksgiving
it gets worse.
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dying is not enough. long live glitch.
third @glitchmarfa E30D full set holder meetup in the books.
so much love for this one-of-a-kind community and the entire team behind it. genuinely grateful for the creativity, authenticity, and contributions they continue to bring to the space. there’s really nothing else oha + appreciation @derekedws @magey_mage @zackrosenblatt_ + team
and as always @toadswiback for the freshest merch in marfa.
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tldr from my solo panel on the future of digital art held at the cricket wireless in shipshewana: everything becomes fuckable.
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an old man discussed hospice medicine
on speaker phone with his dying wife
the pharmacist announced he had succumbed
to alcholism
an anti-dandruff shampoo was injected into
the cock vein of a horse
someone speculated could win the derby
I watched the warts on my hand
celebrate their anniversary at a michelin restaurant
global warming forced them to cancel
the jell-o festival at the nursing home anyway
on speaker phone with his dying wife
the pharmacist announced he had succumbed
to alcholism
an anti-dandruff shampoo was injected into
the cock vein of a horse
someone speculated could win the derby
I watched the warts on my hand
celebrate their anniversary at a michelin restaurant
global warming forced them to cancel
the jell-o festival at the nursing home anyway
it gets worse.
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I didn’t notice the sound of
nails penetrating wood
the darkness
or the soil
or the suit I’d been placed in
with a stylish tie
and leather shoes from an acclaimed cow
I didn’t notice anyone standing there either or the insects they threw in
like coins in a well
I didn’t notice much at all
anymore
nails penetrating wood
the darkness
or the soil
or the suit I’d been placed in
with a stylish tie
and leather shoes from an acclaimed cow
I didn’t notice anyone standing there either or the insects they threw in
like coins in a well
I didn’t notice much at all
anymore
it gets worse.
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