I am preoccupied with the image. I can neither comprehend, nor justify a way of isolating and painting a single image. The arrangement has been overly complicated. Olga says artists are nowadays just curators responsible for selecting certain images. But why select this or that? Because of aesthetics? Because of humour or politics. We would be kidding ourselves to think it would possible. One can remove an image from the throng’s circulation but not with a full certainty that the image is entirely moral. It will be specked with blood of war and spit of laughter. The image will likely be the second copy, the third or fourth, and who is to say what its predecessor was subject to. WHO is the ex. It had been toyed with: used in crowds of Reform, Tommy Robinison, memed at the top of a reel. To use the image is to engage with this troubled crowd of which no one can be certain of. You see we exist in crowds: crowds of images, crowds of us. Discord, Subreddit, hashtags; all data. All lobbed together and catalogued unknowingly into certain cabinets. The irrelevant Iranian and the perky influencer; nothing in-between. We are the producers and consumers. Prosumers. To be on the app is to produce, to produce data and steal images. Repost a new version of the image to squeeze every viral drop from its average subject. Once dry cast it to the trash where it will ruminate waiting to be found. Years later it will be ripe for another public display. We loved it once and we love it again. I guarantee none of us will remember. All that will have changed is the context; the crowd of images in sits among and by an order of algorithmic sequencing. We are all a crowd. The images are all a crowd, and it is all a messy entanglement of the two. Bullshit can I isolate the image –– look at all the baggage that comes with it. Guston’s figuration is dead.