The Hunt (2020 – 2022)
Eternal Recurrence: The Hunter That Hunts Itself
Exhibitions held at various institutions in multiple countries
The Hunt (2020 – 2022)
Eternal Recurrence: The Hunter That Hunts Itself
Exhibitions held at various institutions in multiple countries

The Flying horse, oil on linen canvas, 140x200cm, 2021
The Flying horse, oil on linen canvas, 140x200cm, 2021
The ultimate test of the hunter: Would you do this again?
Not once, not a thousand times, but eternally—the same stalking, the same fear-exhilaration, the same moment when you and your prey’s eyes meet across the clearing and both of you know. The same kill. The same death (for are you not also hunted? is there not always a larger predator?). The same consumption. Again. And again. And again.
Most will flee this thought. The herd-animal in us recoils from it. “Please, let me be done with hunting. Let me be done with being hunted. Let me rest.”
But the one who can embrace it—who can say “Yes!” to the eternal return of the hunt in all its violence and vitality—this one has surpassed humanity.
This one hunts not from need but from love of the chase. This one is hunted not by guilt but by the exhilaration of danger. This one knows: I am predator and prey, and I would have it no other way, unto all eternity.
But the one who can embrace it—who can say “Yes!” to the eternal return of the hunt in all its violence and vitality—this one has surpassed humanity.
This one hunts not from need but from love of the chase. This one is hunted not by guilt but by the exhilaration of danger. This one knows: I am predator and prey, and I would have it no other way, unto all eternity.
The hunt continues. It has always continued. It will always continue. The only question is: Do you hunt consciously, magnificently, as one who creates values? Or do you hunt as the herd hunts—shamefully, hypocritically, denying your fangs even as you use them?
Choose.
The ultimate test of the hunter: Would you do this again?
Not once, not a thousand times, but eternally—the same stalking, the same fear-exhilaration, the same moment when you and your prey’s eyes meet across the clearing and both of you know. The same kill. The same death (for are you not also hunted? is there not always a larger predator?). The same consumption. Again. And again. And again.
Most will flee this thought. The herd-animal in us recoils from it. “Please, let me be done with hunting. Let me be done with being hunted. Let me rest.”
But the one who can embrace it—who can say “Yes!” to the eternal return of the hunt in all its violence and vitality—this one has surpassed humanity.
This one hunts not from need but from love of the chase. This one is hunted not by guilt but by the exhilaration of danger. This one knows: I am predator and prey, and I would have it no other way, unto all eternity.
But the one who can embrace it—who can say “Yes!” to the eternal return of the hunt in all its violence and vitality—this one has surpassed humanity.
This one hunts not from need but from love of the chase. This one is hunted not by guilt but by the exhilaration of danger. This one knows: I am predator and prey, and I would have it no other way, unto all eternity.
The hunt continues. It has always continued. It will always continue. The only question is: Do you hunt consciously, magnificently, as one who creates values? Or do you hunt as the herd hunts—shamefully, hypocritically, denying your fangs even as you use them?
Choose
































