At its surface, this piece is clutter: cans, screens, flyers, wires. But underneath, it’s a system of hunger. Every object here is built around one idea: consume.

The soup cans spell it out literally. They’re the recurring glyph in my practice, most visibly in Monster Soup, where a hundred variations of the can turned into portraits of desire itself. The can is simple, sealed, dependable — a product that promises to satisfy but never does. It’s consumption distilled into its most perfect symbol: always full, always empty, always ready to be opened again.

The flyers and adverts scattered across the frame echo that rhythm. They’re cheap, quick, and designed to vanish. The single-use attention grab, not unlike our posts and tweets — each one shouting for a moment of recognition before being buried by the next. Ephemera as appetite, appetite as performance.

The TV sits at the center as the most familiar altar of consumption. It feeds us, but only if we feed it first — with our eyes, our time, our silence. The screen isn’t just an object in this work; it’s the cycle itself. You watch, you’re watched, and the line between feeder and fed collapses.

And then the mask — that face both personal and public. It’s a stand-in for the self we construct in the feed: recognizable but never complete, protective but never transparent. It performs us and hides us at the same time. A filter, a costume, a ritual object. In this context, it’s less about disguise and more about circulation — the mask as the currency of visibility, the thing we put forward so we can keep moving through the system.

This work is my bookend on the SuperRare shared contract — a place where so many of us once wrote together, side by side, a ledger of beginnings. I wanted my last entry there to be a reflection of what I’ve been circling all along: that desire itself is consumable, that we feed on images as much as food, that our lives are structured around loops of taking in and being taken in.

Distopia is a pantry, a feed, a mirror. It’s the moment you realize you’re not just choosing what to consume — you’re being consumed too.