MASCOTS

In this realm of pop surrealism, satire isn’t just a punchline; it is a structural necessity. I take the hyper-sanitized smiles of consumerist deities and subject them to the "glitch"—a beautiful, terminal error
-never empty; it is a graveyard of iconography, a digital landfill where the ghosts of Saturday morning cartoons and corporate mascots go to dissolve. My process begins with the desecration of the familiar.

The texture is tactile and abrasive—a sandpaper of artifacts where the shadows are no longer black, but a deep, bruised violet, shimmering with the artifacts of a thousand compressions.

I reach into the polished, high-definition throat of pop culture and pull out its glowing entrails, dragging them through a gauntlet of algorithmic cruelty. This is the alchemy of the deep-fried: a deliberate incineration of data where the original image is cooked in a vat of digital grease until the pixels blister and pop