This week, I’ve been thinking about the boundaries of freedom

I’m approaching this with the idea that while institutions provide security and resources, they also demand compliance, often at the cost of our freedom.

Art, once a force of disruption, has now become absorbed into these systems, raising the question: can it still provoke and challenge when it’s controlled by the very powers it once opposed?

tl;dr: Participation in institutional systems comes at the cost of true freedom.

This week

• Words

  • What Defines our Freedom?

  • The Absorption of Art Into Systems of Power

  • The Line Between Subversion and Co-option

  • Has Art Become Too Safe?

  • Can Art Ever Be Free?

  • Trade-offs of Freedom

• Balance

  • Volume 1 Mirror Out Now

• Poets’ corner

  • Freedom Through The Seasons

• Info

  • Next Installation - London

Words

What Defines our Freedom?

From the moment we are born, institutions shape us. We are told who we are, and that identity is tied to a system of expectations. I was born British, meaning I was also European—a passport into a shared economic and political structure. Later, I joined the military, becoming a soldier, which meant embracing duty and compliance. Eventually, as part of the UN, I found myself representing something even broader: a global institution promising protection in exchange for my compliance.

At every turn, these institutions provided me with something: security, identity, resources. In return, I complied with their rules. It felt like a fair transaction, but over time, I started to see it differently.

Where did all my freedom go?

The social contracts we participate in—whether consciously or not—are rarely for our immediate benefit. These agreements are designed to sustain the institution. You give your time, loyalty, and labor; they extract value from your compliance. Over the years, I realized that these contracts weren’t really built for me. They were built to perpetuate the systems that issued them.

Take something as simple as a phone contract. Initially, it feels like a win—you get a shiny new device, upgraded features, instant connectivity. But over time, the telecom company is the one profiting. The contract is weighted in their favor, not yours.

This transactional structure isn’t unique to commerce. It’s the same principle that underlies civil liberties and freedom.

For generations, art was seen as something outside these systems of control. Art didn’t comply; it questioned. The most basic form—a painting, a poem, a song—could disrupt societal norms, challenge authority, and expose hidden mechanisms of power. Art was never a simple transaction; it was subversive, a force that rejected the idea of contracts.

Anyone who has been moved by a work of art knows this. Art has a unique capacity to bypass the layers of compliance we’ve internalized, connecting us to something raw and authentic—something beyond the rules we live by.

But over time, art was absorbed into the very structures it once opposed.

The Absorption of Art Into Systems of Power

Art became part of the infrastructure. No longer just an outsider challenging power, art was harnessed as a tool of soft power. Governments and cultural institutions recognized the value of art as a means of influence. Western foreign policy, in particular, began to use art as a way to project cultural dominance without overt force. Art exhibitions, state-sponsored galleries, and cultural programming became instruments of diplomacy—art as a subtle but potent way to shape global narratives.

This transition turned art into a product. It had to fit within a framework, align with national interests, and be marketable to a global audience. Art, once a source of disruption, became another tool in the state’s arsenal of influence.

Here’s where the real problem lies: when art becomes part of a system that controls it, does it lose its ability to challenge that system?

The Line Between Subversion and Co-option

There’s a thin line between subversion and co-option. It’s tempting to believe that artists can still work within institutional frameworks while critiquing them, but this is a delicate balancing act. The more art becomes institutionalized—funded by governments, bound by cultural expectations, and sold as part of a national brand—the more it risks losing its edge.

Consider artists like Trevor Paglen, who navigates this tension expertly. His work critiques surveillance and government control, but it’s also shown in major galleries and institutions that are, in part, complicit in these systems. Paglen walks a fine line between using the system and being used by it. But for many artists, this balance isn’t sustainable. The line between questioning power and reinforcing it is razor-thin.

Throughout history, we’ve seen examples of art’s entanglement with power. Soviet socialist realism, for example, was art designed to promote state ideology. Though it had aesthetic power, it was deeply compromised by its role as a propaganda tool. The same can be said of American art in the Cold War era, when Abstract Expressionism was promoted as a symbol of freedom and individualism—a contrast to Soviet art—yet was quietly backed by state institutions like the CIA.

In both cases, art became part of a broader political agenda. It still had impact, but that impact was controlled, managed, and ultimately served the interests of the institutions that sponsored it. This historical context makes it clear: art has always had to negotiate its relationship with power. But today, the mechanisms of control are more subtle, and therefore, perhaps, more dangerous.

Has Art Become Too Safe?

The institutionalization of art has normalized its role within the system. Instead of being a force that questions and disrupts, much contemporary art fits neatly within the parameters set by the institutions that support it. It has become predictable, safe, and aligned with the interests of the very powers it once sought to challenge.

Does this ruin the art? Not necessarily. But it does change its purpose. Art’s edge—the ability to provoke real change—is dulled when it becomes part of the same contracts that govern our identity and civil liberties.

Today, we’re witnessing a creeping shift where art is not only commodified but also controlled in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. Artists who want to challenge power still exist, but their platforms are often the same galleries, labels, and events that reinforce the status quo. This complicity is subtle but pervasive.

Even when artists attempt to subvert from within, their work is often absorbed by the system. This isn’t to say that all institutional art is compromised or that artists should reject all forms of sponsorship. Rather, the danger is that art’s participation in these systems makes it harder for artists to remain truly disruptive. The very platforms that elevate their work also constrain it.

Can Art Ever Be Free?

This leads us to the heart of the matter: can art ever be truly free from the systems that control it? If history tells us anything, it’s that art has always existed in dialogue with power. From the patronage of the Renaissance to today’s state-sponsored projects, art has never been fully autonomous. The notion of a time when art was “pure” and free from entanglement is a romanticization.

However, that doesn’t mean art should simply accept its role within these systems. Art can still question, critique, and resist, but it must acknowledge the forces that shape it. Artists must be conscious of the platforms they engage with and the compromises they might make. They must be aware that participation in the system comes with a cost.

The challenge today is not just to create art that disrupts but to create art that resists absorption into the very systems it critiques. That’s a difficult balance, and not all artists can or should achieve it in the same way. But it is a challenge worth taking on.

In the end, the question isn’t whether art ruins itself by participating in these systems. The real question is whether we, as artists and individuals, can imagine a space outside these contracts—a space where art can exist beyond the boundaries set by institutions. Perhaps true freedom lies not in rejecting these systems outright but in navigating them with a clear-eyed awareness of their limitations—and finding ways to subvert them from within.

This is the challenge: to make art that, despite its entanglement with power, still provokes, still questions, and still pushes us to think critically about the contracts we’ve signed and the time we’ve lost. Only then can art maintain its edge and its role as a force for disruption in an increasingly controlled world.

Trade-offs of Freedom

If you found this interesting I made something more visual for you on IG. I like words, but I find it much easier to communicate through pictures.

I’m just a kid who likes crayons.

If you’ve got a friend trying to do something crazy, I hope they enjoy it.

Balance

We’re leaving Libra Season

I had a few emails back last week for either of these, if anyone else is interested reply to this email with “Balance”

As always, they’re made with highly polished stainless steel—not sure if anyone else is crazy enough to use such a tough material for their paintings.

If you’re thinking about it, I’d recommend something less time-consuming.

But what I love is the time I get to spend polishing both the metal and the paint.

I’ve also been experimenting with some aging processes, and I love how aged they look up close.

Nobody wants a painting that looks new…

Both pieces are sized at 300×420mm (A3) and will be available next week.

If you’re a Libra, or know someone close to you who might find inspiration in one, reply with the word “balance” and I’ll let you know as soon as they’re ready.

Volume 1 Mirror Out Now

one week left

The First editions are now sold out, thanks to everyone who supported this first month.

The Second Editions are priced at £10.

CLICK HERE TO GET IT

Poets’ corner

Every week for the next month, we’ll be inviting a poet to respond to the current theme we’re exploring together.

It’s a curated, unfiltered space for raw exploration, and I hope you enjoy what unfolds.

This week’s poem delves into the theme of Freedom.

Freedom Through The Seasons

Incubated like winter with nothing
But senses. Arriving from the fetters of nature
Not a second too late,
Too soon. Getting ready for diving

Into spring, when all of the buds will be there,
Guiding towards the world of the way,
Forcing to the land of the lay,
Keeping both eyes so as not to stray. Prepare.

Commandeer summer’s polish
Blossomed and the full spectrum shined.
Know and be ready, ‘it’s there and it’s mine’,
A hunch, a guess, a knowledge

Of autumn inevitable dropping a knee
From the tree, kicked by feet, hiding
Littered waste of spring. Subsiding,
Proud to have reached summer,
Proud to have been free.

Info

Next Installation - London

26th October
Private View, Chelsea - RSVP by replying here

30th October - 2 November
Various Locations

With love

R

Teaser

I wanted to make something special with these. I’m toxically competitive in everything except art, the quality of these tees is ridiculous.

Inspired by the 90’s box cut, vintage feel, heavy-weight Organic Cotton, made in Portugal to the highest standards.

They’ll be available next month.


***The Bat is for the upcoming installation***