The cult of success and personal growth, working in an always-connected environment, the virtualization of private life, the importunate and imposed needs to demonstrate our successes, both real or imaginary, in social networks—all these have made the boundaries between professional and private lives to blur, gradually pushing the modern person’s right to his or her personal space to the sideline. The desire to impress all our peers and virtual friends, compounded with the fear of committing personal failure render us nowadays more vulnerable to various phobias. Fear—often nothing but a form of expression of mental discomfort in response to the desire for social approval and, simultaneously, the uncertainty of results—poses an obstacle to our ability to perform any action.
Cockroaches is a reflection of my own insecurity and vulnerability to imaginary monsters. Red cockroach to me is closely linked to my childhood memories evoking a feeling of irrepressible disgust. This is a monstrous imagery of anxiety and vague phobias, shocking omnivorousness and vitality. Using the interiors of my flat and my own body, I reenact the painful condition, which overcomes me in the process of working on my plans. In going through creative expressions and challenging experiences, full of thoroughly exhausting internal monologues, I turn into an abominable cockroach. People who are close to me become the targets of my uncontrollable destructive forces, while my own body feels like an alien even to myself, turning into a hostile space.