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The Self-Portrait series uses found images and surfaces, specifically those of advertisements, torn from both magazines and newspapers. These pages are in their inception meant to be viewed briefly and disposed of, and their physicality contains an inherent temporality of aging and decay as the pages will fade, yellow, and eventually disintegrate. They are temporary means of moving capital, inspiring desire and consumption.

The act of painting over the face and the head, (one of the most identifiably human characteristics, the source of the visual identifier of the face, and the vessel which holds the brain and thus our source of thought and the processing of sensation), is a mark that claims the image as "mine." The goal is a specifically generous and futile exercise to claim every advertised image in the world as part of my self, as well as inserting myself, through the gesture of making an abstract mark and a literal "de-facing", into the image.

Such futile yet ambitious gestures reference the current technological and medical goals of genetic banks, of attempting to collect the genetic material of every human alive, as well as biomedical companies which seek to collect genetic specimens, seed banks, zoological samples, etc. There is further art historical progeny in projects such as Douglas Huebler's goal to photographically document ''the existence of everyone alive'' and Allan McCollum's "The Shapes Project." Such gestures of painting over the face of human figures in an image also reference the work of John Baldessari, as well as certain works by Martin Kippenberger, as well as street and graffitti art.

Similarly, the application of paint plays with various kinds and methods of abstraction (from biomorphic to minimalist, conceptual to baroque), but all of them echo the manner in which abstraction in part exists today, as a kind of representation. What appears as abstract can at times be interpreted, and often must be done so, as in brain scans, technological schemata, and digitally pixelated distortions as viewed on the internet. It is a peculiar mode of abstraction which reverses the traditional sense of "abstracting something" or "abstraction for the sake of abstraction" and instead suggests a way of perception in which what seems like abstraction (a Jackson Pollock, an MRI scan, a stock market chart) is actually a representational image.

The works are titled identically, and no numbering is used to reduce hierarchical structures of ordering. The date of the original page is included where known, as is the creation date. The project is conceptually endless, limited only by time.

The variation and inconsistency of materials, styles, and methods of application suggest both a mutability of concept and process as well as a general impatience and urgency to the project.

These acts are acts of pure pleasure, allowing me to enter almost a trancelike state where time passes, thought enters and drifts away, and the only thing occuring is engaging with the image and the colors of paint. Unlike most of the rest of my practice, no thought goes into them, making them a relief from the stresses of the studio as well as of daily life. They are also desperate acts, acts made with time running out, things crashing and uncertain, with ambiguity looming large and little hope ahead. They are futile, ephemeral, and already fade within days of making. There is no time for re-photography, for archival c-prints, for careful selection. They mark a voracious consumption of media and culture that not only echoes my anthropological interests, but the mode of the general citizen at large, who is now attuned to mass quantities of media and images, as well as engaging in acts production. They are the flowers in the dustbin. They are not punk scrawlings, nor hippie decor, nor highly conceptual, nor just purely intuitive. But they are the pure product filtered through the anxiety and perception of this individual. They could end up in the gutter or the gallery.