8th offer 700 tez 👑 💀

the 6th offer is in at 666 tez 👑 💀

A RECORD OF BECOMING While making the 184 animations, I stopped from time to time to assemble a contact sheet. Each showed the work as it stood then. More animations followed, and I made another. This piece brings those sheets into motion together. Seen this way, the collection begins to reveal relationships I could not have planned one image at a time. Faces recur. Forms depart from one another. The eye finds an order, then finds something else. Each sheet had once seemed to hold the whole, though the work was still becoming. That is where this piece belongs within DIVERGENCE: in the differences that accumulate, and in what emerges when they are seen together. The first piece in the ten-work DIVERGENCE collection, A Record of Becoming preserves the making as part of the finished work. 👑 💀

5:55 For over three years, DIVERGENCE was mine to make Today, the first piece becomes yours to collect Ten works spanning drawing, a book, animation, and film. My first animated NFT mints today @teamartcollect 👑 23

You’ve seen fragments. The full scope is only beginning to show. 21,090 artworks. A 780-image book. A story. 184 animations. Mr. Yellow and Mr. White. Over three years of creation, distilled into ten NFTs. DIVERGENCE. Which part of this world will you own? 👑 23

DIVERGENCE. Ten NFTs. 184 animations with the Divergence story. Production contact sheets set in motion. A book of 780 artworks selected from 21,090. The short film Mr. Yellow and Mr. White. Over three years of work... 👑 💀

out here wandering the back roads of Kentucky with a kayak and tent… found a gas station bar, Bigfoot Bar & Grill outside Cave Run got the Bigfoot ribeye genesis drop on @teamartcollect soon 👑 💀 13

Mr. Yellow and Mr. White spend their time thinking about nothing — and what to do with it. They sit with it the way one sits with weather, with illness, with an inheritance that cannot be refused. Mr. White believes nothing is a form of purity. He polishes it. He reduces the world to bone, to echo, to a room emptied of furniture and voice. He calls this clarity. Mr. Yellow suspects nothing is a wound. He presses his hand against it. Color leaks through his fingers. He calls this proof. Between them passes the silent argument of consciousness: Is the void a sanctuary or a hemorrhage? They have forgotten when they began watching themselves think. They have forgotten who assigned them the task. They suspect no one did. Sometimes they trade faces. Sometimes they exchange eyes. Sometimes one wakes with the memory of the other’s childhood — a field, a corridor, a hand raised but never touching. They do not speak of it. They study absence the way astronomers study dark matter: by observing what bends around it, what disappears into it, what returns altered. Mr. White removes everything until only witness remains. Mr. Yellow adds everything until the witness dissolves. Both arrive at the same threshold. They suspect nothing may be the only inheritance large enough to hold a life. They suspect the self is merely the shape left behind when silence hardens. They suspect they are not two figures at all, but a single awareness turning in sleep, trying on masks to see if it still exists. So they sit. They watch. They wait. Thinking about nothing — and what it is doing to them. 👑 💀