The body of the website is your two-way street through our sharing bubble, we feed you with our gravy, rights for flies.
What’s the point in being creative? Swipe. How are you going to make money? Tap. How am I going to make money? Pause. What are you going to do with yourself? Fill. Should I be working for uncle Jim? Dissonance. Why do you like Flies? Talk. Why do you do this to yourself? Overload. Makeshift. Boxes of junk. Rethink. Natural instinct. Conscious descisions. Product: personality.
Using an iPad to paint music isn’t the conventional way to produce art. I am controlled. (the non-humans, underdogs! I am being: controlled. I’m wondering about my motives, and so are my grandparents. Am I harmful to society?
To see from under the skin: whilst I upload another macro shot of a horny insect, then lending a hand. The sounds I create: I am. So intense was the work rate, endulged at my own discomfort for a sake beyond just my satisfaction.
It’s called SCRAP. I’m keeping it underground, we’re designing shows for the city rats as a muffled cry out for imperfection. We all make sounds, I make tracks.