25/10/2025
Glitch //
Series of three acrylic paintings on paper sized 46cmx34cm. The wooden frames are covered in a sculpted layer of paper clay and Apoxie Sculpt.
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Being transgender is a glitch. But only because being human is a glitch. Because existence is a glitch. How is it possible that we can be one and the same with our bodies and simultaneously reflect on the nature of this unity and maybe even disagree with it? Why this split? Why can’t we just be one instead of divided and finite? Why are we cursed with a mind that has too much capacity for our own good? Is this a joke?
Our self-awareness reminds us that reality and everything within it is, in fact, a glitch. It does not make sense. It is inharmonious. We are all forced to develop egos and go through the absurd tragicomic trauma of having a body. Whether our personal trauma lies within birth, illness, death, s*x, gender, race, or disability, it remains that the existence of the body/mind/ego in and of itself is a problematic glitch.
How did consciousness arise from matter? Or did matter arise from consciousness? Are they actually the same thing? What is the nature behind the origin of life? Did it take will to form? And whose will was it?
Art is arbitrary and pointless, but only because reality is too. The fact that things happen to be the specific way they are is a glitch. The fact that there is something and not nothing is a glitch. Everything is random. Everything is a glitch.
