MIGHTYMOOSE

I've never seen a perfect reality, so I have no interest in making perfect art.

Everything I know is a little broken.

People are complicated. Memories change. Emotions contradict themselves. Things wear down, get rebuilt, disappear, and sometimes come back looking completely different.

Why should the art be any different?

I make glitchy things because glitches feel honest. They're evidence that something happened, that something was made, broken, changed, and left a little rough around the edges.

A glitch is a moment where the expected gives way to something unexpected.

That's where I'm interested.

I'm not classically trained. I don't have a prescribed process or a formula I follow every time. Most of the time, I don't even know exactly what I'm trying to make when I start.

An emotion becomes an idea.

The idea becomes an experiment.

The experiment becomes chaos.

The chaos starts to reveal something.

Eventually, something emerges.

Sometimes it's beautiful.

Sometimes it's strange.

Sometimes it's uncomfortable.

Sometimes I don't fully understand it myself.

Sometimes it's all of those things at once.

And that's okay.

I don't want to remove every irregularity until the work becomes sterile. I want to leave room for the unexpected: for the happy accident, the broken pattern, the artifact that wasn't supposed to be there but somehow makes the whole thing better.

Because perfection leaves very little room for discovery.

The things I find most interesting are usually the things that didn't go exactly according to plan.

The scratch in the photograph.

The distortion in the signal.

The frame that doesn't quite line up.

The mistake that becomes the composition.

Those things tell you that a human being was there.

So when something in my work feels slightly off, don't assume it needs to be fixed.

Look closer.

It might be the most honest part.

The imperfections aren't mistakes. They're the story.