Dear future us,
Writing a love letter as long and slow as December, we blur the brightness of New Year’s resolutions or the imperative to constantly improve ourselves through drugs and statements and, thus, never being and doing enough, or otherwise being too much: the extravagance hanging on our disco balls, facets under our scrolling eyes. State of identity: exhausted.
Low-resolutions are contra-sexual, minor, contra-captive gestures. Less than 300 dpi (under)focuses on the blurred, the images which have been dismissed based on the quality of their resolution. Low-resolutions (un)follow the art of failed productivity, the irresolute, the infinite (un)felt. Enclosed with this letter, find a menstrual stain (another failed production?) as a low-resolution birth announcement card (picture of future us?).