InsomniArt

In my first major exhibition at Gallery Munchow—aptly titled BURNOUT—I immersed myself in a 72-hour, sleepless performance that would become a touchstone for my later work. Living in a transparent box under constant surveillance from both gallery visitors and a live webcam, I produced four paintings that captured the evolving emotional and physical states I experienced as time blurred and fatigue set in. The canvases, each measuring 120 x 40 cm, were created using techniques such as stencil, spray paint, and airbrush—mirroring the frenetic quality of street art and the ephemerality of dreams. By the final piece, vibrant oranges and reds melded into a flowing blue-green backdrop, an expression of both delirium and euphoria.

Insomniart was more than a personal endurance trial; it challenged the boundary between performer and observer, as a continuous live chat allowed the audience to become part of the unfolding narrative. Media outlets and television crews documented every moment—ironic, given that some of these platforms have since vanished, echoing the fleeting nature of our hyperconnected world. Looking back, this performance laid the groundwork for my later endurance pieces, including Sudor Meta, as well as my passion for endurance cycling. The experience solidified my fascination with pushing physical limits to reveal hidden layers of human resilience, vulnerability, and collective engagement, themes that continue to shape my artistic practice.

The box itself was a simple construction—an open-topped polycarbonate enclosure with a small door—yet it functioned as both a transparent stage and a confining barrier, thrusting my creative process and physical endurance into public view. Inside, I had a modest setup: a laptop for constant online communication, a chair to rest on when exhaustion set in, an easel for painting, and a squeezer for the airbrush. As fatigue crept in, energy drinks and, eventually, an oxygen apparatus became my allies against sleep. Brief, hurried exits—never more than two minutes—to use the restroom only underscored the controlled isolation I had willingly imposed on myself.