I love the madmen and the drunks. They are the ones with real liberty. The rest are trapped in the shitty cage called “society” that they’ve imprisoned themselves in. Instead of breaking down the cage, building a fragile life under the shape of the cage not even daring to approach its boundaries, wasting their lives in a strange state of infinite conflicts. In their miserable lives, they create TGIFs, Saturday night fevers, and TBTs to escape, while the “deviants” who manage to slightly shake the cage are forced to feel intense regret.

The duplicity or duality of humanity has always disgusted me. The more I am forced to adapt, the more my inner tension increases, and I spend my days in constant fear of its explosion. But the so-called mankind is just a two-legged animal that invents rules in its mind and then gets torn apart between the strictness of those made-up rules and inner desires, isn’t it?

And eventually, it explodes… This work is the fruit of one of them. I kept painting as murmuring “When they call me mad, I am at my most fragile.”