MALLRIOT .comest. 1998 |
i don’t get out much. i’m usually inside, playing with my pepe.
I’m a creator, not an artist — what I make is meant to be unserious, and I’d call most of it memes before I’d call it art. The design is mostly AI: I direct the tools, keep whatever lands, and delete the rest.
mallriot.com is the strange little place I keep it all — a dead mall that never quite closes, with a claw machine, a raffle counter, and a basement I haven’t finished. Two collections hold it together: The Anatomy of Pepe and Granny’s Gifts, and everything in the mall is built for the people who collect them. Thanks for wandering this far in.
The collection that built the mall. 2,222 specimens of pepe, each one drawn like a page torn from a textbook that should not exist — labeled, cross-sectioned, annotated by someone who clearly never attended medical school. It is a study of a frog that was never alive, conducted with total and unearned scientific confidence.
Holding an Anatomy of Pepe is the key to the mall — it opens the studio, the claw, the registry, all of it.
The companion collection — smaller, warmer, and a little harder to explain. 777 gifts from a grandmother nobody can quite place. Knitted things. Wrapped things. Things made with obvious love and possibly with a curse.
Granny’s Gifts holders are mall citizens too — same keys, same registry, same haunted escalators.