The Pound of Flesh draws a connection between fashion, consumption and meat: 'a species which is lower in the food chain, but also domesticated and raised for human consumption'*.
I am submerged in an industry flushed daily with a bombardment of mashed culture, imitation, pastiche, thieving: fashion exists as a constantly dissatisfied feeding cycle, the ouroboros. Alike our bodies, it becomes what it eats. Contemporary fashion engulfs itself as what was old is made new; reworked, re-contextualised. Everything created is ultimately destroyed.
Fed by gluttony, this unquenchable hunger we are all caught up in means the very idea of humanity and its race for the newest and the trendiest is inextricably tied up with the process of self consumption.
"through the mouth enters the world to be swallowed up" (Bakhtin, Rabelias & His World)
i eat myself,
and succulently marvel at the plastic joys of hubba bubba and its ability to produce a sea of saliva.
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