BRANDTRUEBOY

Current flavors in the ever-morphing mix:

Online telepathy
Graffiti
Andy Warhol
Fiction
eatsleepdraw:

I call this: ALTER-EGO
An artwork that was featured in our group exhibit last year.

Recently, I had an idea that I keep coming back to—a Matrix-inspired notion that we, as humans are the flowering fruit and technology is the plant.  While we grow, blossom and die they upload and update—creating off-shoots via cut/copy.  We live connected to one another via their long green stalks, eventually shrivilling up and rotting on the ground while they live for hundreds of years like trees…
I keep coming back to this idea because as nighmarish as its initial resonances might be, the act of contemplating it acts like a springboard into an innerworld of endless corridors, each lined with doors leading to new realities.
(it’s up to me to pick one and push it open)eatsleepdraw:

I call this: ALTER-EGO
An artwork that was featured in our group exhibit last year.

Recently, I had an idea that I keep coming back to—a Matrix-inspired notion that we, as humans are the flowering fruit and technology is the plant.  While we grow, blossom and die they upload and update—creating off-shoots via cut/copy.  We live connected to one another via their long green stalks, eventually shrivilling up and rotting on the ground while they live for hundreds of years like trees…
I keep coming back to this idea because as nighmarish as its initial resonances might be, the act of contemplating it acts like a springboard into an innerworld of endless corridors, each lined with doors leading to new realities.
(it’s up to me to pick one and push it open)

eatsleepdraw:

I call this: ALTER-EGO

An artwork that was featured in our group exhibit last year.

Recently, I had an idea that I keep coming back to—a Matrix-inspired notion that we, as humans are the flowering fruit and technology is the plant.  While we grow, blossom and die they upload and update—creating off-shoots via cut/copy.  We live connected to one another via their long green stalks, eventually shrivilling up and rotting on the ground while they live for hundreds of years like trees…

I keep coming back to this idea because as nighmarish as its initial resonances might be, the act of contemplating it acts like a springboard into an innerworld of endless corridors, each lined with doors leading to new realities.

(it’s up to me to pick one and push it open)

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