Slivereign

This is the story of how Memento Munch became ‘Time Killer’🩸 Since community suggests to be transparent, here is the full transparency about an event that broked my trust on web3 platforms and organisations. Felt completely being played with my labour. Memento Munch was the original title I had conceived for this artwork. The title Time Killer came later, after the experience surrounding the release it had been created for. Last spring, I publicly included a September release with Iconic in my professional schedule. We held two face-to-face planning meetings with Rob, I developed and presented three different concepts, and one sketch was selected and approved. This was not an informal proposal. A release date had been discussed and publicly announced. The project was planned to include prints and digital editions, while the physical original would be offered separately. Based on that plan, I moved the Iconic release to the front of an already extremely full production calendar and + I announced this calendar publicly (if you remember). I postponed, declined, or reorganized other exhibition opportunities and professional commitments in order to deliver the work on time. The physical execution of Time Killer alone took approximately two weeks and 70 hours. Those 70 hours do not include the time spent developing the concept, producing three proposals, refining the selected sketch, or attending the planning meetings. Only after the approved artwork had been completed was I informed that the release could no longer proceed as scheduled and might not be rescheduled before 2027. I was told that a “Major Release” had been added to the programming and had created a domino effect across several previously scheduled projects. It was later explained to me that “major” referred to the resources required by that release and was not intended to suggest that my work was less important. I accept that clarification. But it did not change the practical outcome: my completed release was displaced, no alternative date was provided, and the entire cost of the change was left with the artist. I fully understand that schedules sometimes change. The issue was not simply the postponement. The issue was being informed only after I had completed an approved work and reorganized months of professional and personal commitments around the agreed date. Emails with no replies. I subsequently asked Rob/ Iconic for a firm 2027 release date, confirmed by all relevant decision-makers. I explained that without such confirmation within two weeks, I could not continue holding the completed work indefinitely. I received no response. So I chosed to release the work independently as Time Killer. The physical original ‘sold’ on the day it was revealed to a long-time collector, after receiving several acquisition inquiries. I am deeply grateful that it found its home immediately. I am now planning to produce the prints independently and am also considering a digital variation and edition. This is not only the story of a delayed release. It is a story about how easily an artist’s time can become the invisible cost of a platform’s internal decisions. When a platform changes its programming after an artwork has been completed, those 70 hours do not return to the artist. The postponed exhibitions, declined opportunities, and rearranged life do not simply restore themselves. That is why the work became Time Killer. Not because creating it was a waste of time, the work itself was worth every hour but because the system surrounding it treated an artist’s time as if it were endlessly replaceable. I am sharing this because transparency should also include how artists are treated behind. From now on, I will only create platform-specific work when the date, responsible decision-makers, and postponement or cancellation terms are clearly confirmed in writing before production begins. An artist’s time is part of the work. It should never be treated as disposable.