the synthetic ego as a dress

The RosenClocks brand has gone bust :( ive lot my name and visibility. i am destined to die broke :(

For a short while i entertained the image of tradlife bridal wear, the supportive wifey, nursing the infant at my bosom. I got the sensation of being a child playing dress-up and make-believe. The same sort of mimicry present in much of my art practice. But little anxiety is produced by the imminent failure of pulling off such a deductive costume given i am confident in that i am more than this little dress. A confidence which renews itself every time a man tries to advise me in a very uninspired inhibitive way, “you're not wearing it right”, and renewed is my confidence when left in this space is a plethora of beautiful regenerative ‘things’. Infinitely more beautiful than anything the inhibiting seamstress has pulled together. Splitting at the seams is an artform. Like the surrealists said ‘reality is elsewhere’. The grid will split at the seams.
And im becoming very well practiced in how to not-wear whilst wearing.
My sufferings seem to come from having ‘too much’ of something. And im pained by a restlessness. I want to give it away. My body is acutely aware it is alive. And i am that alive ‘it’.