Everything is mine

This series is a reflection or imitation of a state of mind that is trying to figure out what to see, feel, be angry about, or laugh at. I cannot see where I am heading; I am aimless. The work is both immature and mature. The words hover in the room, and the images plant themselves in fertile soil. There is nothing new or revolutionary about the work or my practice. Quite the opposite, in fact. Tired of the art world represented on social media, in tribes gathering around certain people, newcomers, and galleries, I find myself in a lonely place. I cannot and do not want to be part of any of these tribes. I am a hermit, not by choice, but by experience.

Each work is titled with the automatic number generated by the camera that captures it. This decision is simple: naming a piece of work projects a specific meaning onto it, a sort of categorization. Since the work is interconnected with other pieces and can be viewed in different contexts, the name should also be different. Hence, I let the camera decide. The name is detached from the actual work.

I am interested in the notion of chaos. To me, chaos is simply a system that one does not fully comprehend. I don't believe in chaos as something without an underlying system. Every system is relative to its comprehension. For a car mechanic, the workings of an engine are comprehensible, whereas I have little knowledge of how a car engine works. Data mining and processing software can extract a vast understanding of present and future actions, predicting crises years before they happen. My work is similar. Everything is interconnected; sometimes the connections are more or less obvious, sometimes they seem far-fetched. Often, there are multiple sub-connections linking two or more elements. The presentation of the work is neither random nor based on a consciously intellectual decision process.