Situated within the condition of the student, I take this role not as a transitional stage of art studies, but as an enduring position at the threshold of recognition—already entangled in institutional logics, yet not fully inscribed within them. To remain a student is to inhabit a liminal threshold: not yet inscribed into the symbolic order of the “artist,” yet already entangled in its institutional logic of recognition. This in-betweenness exposes the tension between the desire for legitimation and the refusal of closure, between the pursuit of a name and the disintegration of all names.

For me, the status of “artist” is less an achievement than a regime of symbolic power, one that seeks to stabilize what is in fact unstable. Against this, I affirm subjectivity as inherently transgressive and fluid, resisting capture by any institutional designation. In this sense, I find resonance with Dante’s evocation of limbo—a space marked by suspension, where one “lives on in desire without hope.” To inhabit such a space is to recognize disintegration not as mere loss but as an ongoing condition of subjectivity itself—continuous, unfinished, and resistant to closure. Subjectivity, like the photographic image to which I often turn, both participates in ideological constructs and simultaneously reveals their collapse.

Continuous disintegration, then, is not merely a pseudonym but a conceptual stance: a refusal of stability, an embrace of incompleteness. Like fragments that never coalesce into a single form, both subjectivity and practice remain unfinished—perpetually undoing the structures that seek to contain them, and persisting in the space between being and unbeing.