This collection is not about one subject. It is not a suite on capitalism, loneliness, or technology, at least not in the way a wall text usually promises a theme.
Slightly Wrong is a hundred small disagreements with reality. Each piece is a finished picture. If you pause it, the artwork remains. The motion is only proof that the mistake is still alive.
Conceptual art often begins with a concept and then hunts for an image to illustrate it: chains for oppression, a cage for confinement, a clock for time. That vocabulary is worn out. The method here runs the other way.
The question was not: How do I depict exploitation?
The question was: What unexpected picture can generate a concept on its own?
A child on a swing under two security cameras does not need a caption about surveillance.
A man hammering a nail into his own head does not need a lecture on self-destruction.
A fisherman sitting beside a fish that already knows how to sit does not need a parable about pointless ritual.
The image hits first. The second meaning arrives later. If the first hit never comes, the piece does not belong.
The subjects were not chosen from a philosophical checklist. They came from two familiar things forced into one room.
Yoga and a vacuum.
A living room and an oar.
A bathtub and shoes.
Headphones and bread.
A birthday cake and a fire extinguisher.
The mind recognizes the setting, recognizes the activity, and then finds something that should not be there. That wait, what? is the start of the work. If the picture is strong enough, the wrongness carries a human problem: care, power, play, hunger, posture, bureaucracy, childhood.
Sometimes the disturbance is about work. Sometimes family. Sometimes the scale of a body. The subject serves the image, not the other way around. That is why this is not “one hundred works about X.” It is closer to one hundred slight errors in the picture.
