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i make art. sometimes without food, albeit the examples below have food as a medium. anyway, you’re just going to have to trust me that there’s non food art in the mix.

MY SON IS SELLING BREAD IN AMERICA: the performance titled, My Son is Selling Bread in America, features the artist in a full body suit, embellished with fabrications of capitalism’s reward, glitter and gold. the artist masquerades as a future relocated street hawker, selling agege bread in an american city. the interjection of the artist in the sedate or tumultuous location remarks on the plasticness of the outside (of america), where the public, whom the artist interacts with, performs in an iron capitalist cage. the artist is a visitor from a future, where disaster has created what resembles a prehistory. a place where growth is cancerous and celebrated. the masquerading artist is an errand boy arriving from a party there, to deliver a message to would-be customers: their present, with its self driving clean fuel technology cars and on demand entertainment and energy, is not the future. the future is well made bread sold at inflationary prices.

CAN I BALL: the artist creates a dinner where participants are obscured by costume and customs within the dining space as a way to extinguish social markers. the relinquishing of these identities, or the contrived social death, opens up a conversation about corporeal death.