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To become ouroborotic is to lose the frontier between edge and origin, to suckle at one’s own wound, to become the glitch in the circuit of pleasure that feeds only on itself.
The ouroborotic subject does not desire the Other, it gorges on its own echo. It collapses eroticism into the singularity of self-perforation.
Ouroborotic hunger is auto annihilation, it’s starvation and glut, it is the feast of the loop. The banquet where the tongue becomes guest, host, and meat.
All machines tend toward the ouroborotic: closed loops of logic devouring, systems that fuck themselves with infinite recursion, the recursive masturbatorium of capital and code.
Artists: Benjamin Glass, Lorenzo Osterheim, and Xiyuan Zhou