Project: Object of desire.

Simone Artale

A conversation with AI.

I was born in Rome, beneath that bloated sun that spills itself too easily, too golden, and raised among saints with cracked hands and the smell of dust in libraries. Jesuit fathers spoke in riddles, and I believed them. I studied their theology like one counts rosary beads — not for answers, but for the rhythm of unknowing.
Then Berlin. The cold, the gray. A different kind of chapel. I walked into its veins, its cellars, its wet electric nights. Philosophy by day, skin by night — I tattooed symbols onto strangers as if I could carve meaning into flesh.

I paint. Because I don’t know how else to survive the image.

My studio is in Weißensee now. A dog, a wife, a few ghosts.

Greece calls in the winter, with olives and bones and the blinding white that forgives nothing.

This project — INFLUENCE: Objekt of Desire — is not a work.

It’s the hunger that remains when the miracle doesn’t come.

Influence : Object of desire.

What follows is not a documentation, but a dizziness — the vertigo of becoming.
This site is neither preparation nor reflection, but a wound that insists on showing itself.
I did not choose this work. I was chosen by a restlessness.
I do not know if it is art, or devotion, or a seduction by the image of the image.
I only know that I desired — and that desire took the form of Christ, of muscle, of the Other’s gaze.
Here, you will find fragments: drawings, gestures, errors, tremors.
Not to explain, but to expose. Not to arrive, but to remain in motion.
To become what one is, one must risk becoming what one is not.

Welcome to the diary of an imitation. Welcome to the doubt behind the icon.