​HOTEL ADIPOSE: Bound Rooms
Self-published book project
04.15, Toronto
Hotel Adipose Bound Rooms is a hand-bound, silkscreened accordion-style book that explores nostalgia, human relationships and reflections on digital distance. As an ongoing interdisciplinary project, Hotel Adipose is a transitional space for examining the modern condition where technology, work, relationships, and identity intersect. It is an exploration of character development and parafictional practices. This on-going project presents characters and scenarios that oscillate between truth and fabrication as a methodology for personal development through imagined narratives. These practices transform the hotel into a living narrative—a microcosm where characters evolve alongside their environment, reflecting how personal development may be shaped by both internal desires and external forces in the accelerated world we live in.
Washed up and couldn’t care less. I refuse to join the race and any party of hate or lazy hands and lazy legs, entitled to mileage in knowledge while distance not travelled, roads never scathed, rules saintly blazed; my ears must become larger. Passive-aggressive babies are born. The baby says to the philosopher, “You’re going the wrong way.” It’s lonely being a know-it-all, a data monger in a diaper. Abstruse recluse and Jacks your uncle, I shall remain; if this is how the game is played these days, adios, I’ll see you in Dada,
not data. Even the best of us are in denial, saving face for modesty applauses. You know what I mean: martyr machine, you wear a fake prescription of rose-coloured glasses. I’m on to you; your secrets are safe with me. Fake unrelate, you hex hue and shape with the wrong medium. I paint with the breath of everywhere, deep in the depths of nowhere. I will always leave the light on if you ever decide to come home (humanity). While minding my own business metaphysically and still making eye contact, you prefer to look down at me. I’m sorry you were hurt, truly, but it wasn’t by me. I’m an individual, a singular with scraped knees. I look you in the eye with ease, faith, love, and belonging. I want to flip pages through your histories, to listen and span time, if you’ll have me. Historically, these leather pants are too tight and too old to give up on flying kites. Any way the wind blows, it doesn’t really matter to me.