Artist Statement:
What happens to our creative output when it’s surveilled under the scrupulous gaze of capitalism's relentless demands? If observation changes our behavior, then can we create authentically while being observed and if so, how? In these highly observed spaces where we reveal ourselves to be vulnerable artists, is there any room for the sacred, for ritual?
Even as I’m writing this, I’m beginning to feel self-conscious about who will read it. I feel the ghosts of past critic’s voices howling in my head, and nihilism reminding me that it doesn’t matter anyways, so why bother? The language I’m using is no longer mine, it’s been lended to me by you, the reader, the observer. The onset of your gaze has me shifting uncomfortably, and I’ve opened myself up to its inevitable scrutiny.
When I get on a stage--in real or cyber settings--I can no longer play for you a song that I made alone in my room. Now I’m working in collaboration with you, the guest, the viewer, the critic. Will I be allowed back on this stage again if I don’t perform for you, the supporter, the customer, the patron? Or, did you come here for true authenticity? Did you come to see something awkward and uncomfortable, palpable in its squirming discomfort and realness?
Genuine creativity exists at the expense of the observer, who’s been shielded from the process where pure creativity may have occurred.
Surely it’s possible as an individual to transcend the pressure of observation and create something of importance, but I don’t know how to. So instead I’ll see if I can skew my own perception and observe my own behavior being observed.
Over the span of the 24 hours, you’re invited to observe me in the bedroom gallery at Kottbusser Damm 68. Maybe I’ll hide, masking my creative efforts and shying away from your gaze. Maybe your voyeurism will ignite a transformation and we’ll collaborate from afar. Maybe I’ll lean into vulnerability and awkwardly dance for you, sing for you, or draw for you. Maybe we’ll mourn the absence of authenticity together in a collective ritual that re-awakens some semblance of creative integrity.
And maybe authenticity will reveal itself.