Becoming internet

A new breed of virtual influencers (source:
A look at the internet’s beauty cult as seen through the lens of transhumanist theory, pop-culture and capitalism hegemony.
The year is 2020 and the world is under lockdown due to a deadly virus with a high level of contagion. People around the globe are sick and dying, international borders have closed, the economy is collapsing, and the streets are kept empty by police and military forces. In the midst of this post-apocalyptic reality, people huddled in their homes and, unable to access the real world, were forced to move online.
Here, Kim Kardashian and other celebrities livestream videos from their secluded mansions about the importance of social distancing and obeying the law. In the context of Co-Vid19, post-spectacle society appears to have peaked. The industry of online influencers has completely consumed internet culture, and its repercussions are spilling beyond the virtual sphere and into the real world like never before. And the process has accelerated since the lockdown, when the online has become a more hospitable and fruitful place to live.

We have gone full circle. The internet, the current dominant media, humanity’s ultimate window to the world, is also a distorting mirror that is able to talk back. The contemporary man now lives a dual life, split between his dull existence in the context of late-stage capitalism, economic hardship and political unrest, and the endless possibilities of escapism offered by the virtual world. While full immersion into cyberspace, or mind uploading, has yet to be achieved, technology has advanced as far as to close the gap between the real self and the virtual self rather by bringing about the potential of the virtual sphere to materialize.

In the era of affordable plastic surgery and FaceTune apps, it becomes unclear which is which. Although the world wide web was intended for multiplicity, it seems to be moving towards singularity, especially when it comes to appearance, agency, and cultural signifiers. What was once a body without organs, has now been taken over by capitalism’s far reaching grasp and the consequences are remarkable. The rise of the internet and information technology has fundamentally altered the way in which the world functions due to unforeseen and extraordinary circumstances. Before the digital revolution, the advertising industry was relatively stagnating, making use of the same media for over 40 years. Nowadays, we are living the renaissance era of advertising and this is what essentially keeps the internet alive, it is the source of funding for just about everything we read, watch, and experience online. But the digital ad business is in no way limited to tiny flickering images in the corners of websites or videos that can be scrolled away. Ads have now become sentient; they feed off our personal online data, they learn from us, what we like, how we behave, what we desire, and then attempt to mimic us. They create new needs and incentives to monetize on these needs. Ads have evolved so dramatically, that they are no longer recognizable: they can take the shape of an informative news article or a clickable game. But most astonishingly of all, they have taken human form. 
Kylie Jenner + Lucy Hale lookalike (source:
Behold the online influencer! A seemingly normal person who has decided to deterritorialize their IRL existence and move online, almost like a form of mind uploading, but partial and highly customizable. Through the lens of the entertainment media, the online influencer promises the candid, uncensored experience of the reality TV show experience, yet with the digital upgrade of interactivity. They inhabit the same cyberspace as us, they use the same social media apps, they can see our comments, they are seemingly within our reach. What separates them from the rest of the internet users consists in daily posts coherent content, charisma, and good optics, assuring online visibility and reach, translating into views, followers and, eventually, money. And though it would appear that making money off one’s personality is effortless work, in the context of virtuality, one can’t help but wonder to what extent is this personality, or person even, real. With the internet teeming with catfish, trolls, hidden IPs, Photoshoped images, and deep fakes, influencers still manage to attain credibility and realness. 

One could argue that the phenomenon of online influencers is a form of transhumanism. Time spent online producing content (be it music, comedy, informative videos, or even plain vanity selfies), replying to comments and generally keeping an active presence on social media also means time spent away from the real world. It is the time spent online on morphing the perfect virtual self, leaving the real self in constant battle to catch up, to close the gap between the real and virtual. Is it possible that we are already living in the virtual world? It seems that so much of our personal, professional, and social lives have become dependent on the internet nowadays that it would only seem natural to fully give in to it. Becoming internet. Fake it till you make it. A veritable cyborg.

A cyborg of legacy media
More than 30 years ago, Donna Haraway wrote The Cyborg Manifesto, a groundbreaking essay that became the cornerstone for posthumanist feminist studies and was moderately assimilated by the mainstream media. In Haraway’s vision, the cyborg is many things: a mashup, a monster, the other, a means of resistance. She described a future that dissolved the barriers between human and animal, human and machine, and the physical and non-physical. This kind of scenario could play out in one of two ways: cyborgs become increasingly militarized as they are, like most things in this world, “the illegitimate offspring of militarism and patriarchal capitalism, not to mention state socialism”¹; or the dissolution of boundaries between gender, species, machines, and the unseen. Of course, Haraway postulated the danger of looking at the concept of the cyborg from a one-sided perspective, and warned of the blind spots such thinking could entail. Her realistic vision of the future is more fluid, a blend of the dual nature of cyborgs, a hybrid of a hybrid. Fast forward to present day pandemonium, where we simultaneously live our wildest dreams in the context of control society.
Haraway, Donna, “Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”, in Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York; Routledge, 1991), pp.149-181 back
Debord, Guy. The society of the spectacle. New York: Zone Books, 1994 back
Haraway, Donna, “Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century”, in Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York; Routledge, 1991), pp.149-181 back
Never has the world witnessed such freedom of thought, movement, and expression while simultaneously being so constrained. We’re happily trading personal data for access to the web.

The body, the face, the skin, have all come into the attention of early and foundational eco-feminist theorists precisely as matters of design – of both recognizing and creating, spotting and envisioning these affordances of life-being. Affordances here mean possibilities of embodiment, so our designing goal is finding and supporting those possibilities that better lead to an experience of being at home in the world. The skin foremost became a privileged site of intervention. As early as 1991, Donna Haraway asked: “Why should bodies end at the skin, or include at best other beings encapsulated by skin?” In her foundational work, beautifully entitled Volatile Bodies, Elizabeth Grosz also suggests that porosity is an axis through which we are of and in the world:

“The limits or borders of the body image are not fixed by nature or confined to the anatomical ‘container,’ the skin. The body is extremely fluid and dynamic, its borders, edges, and contours are ‘osmotic’ – they have the remarkable power of incorporating and expelling outside and inside in an ongoing exchange”

There is an intricate relation of constant and vital transfer between the inside and outside of the skin. The skin itself is an active site of trans-corporeality. That this vital openness is sometimes lethal is something that we recently became awfully aware on an unexpected large scale. The skin pertains to the material reality as much as it pertains to a symbolic imagery of artificial separation. This is a matter of design – one that has been designed on scraps of habits and prejudices of old philosophies.

Is then the Anthropocene a tactile experience? Inasmuch as the skin is this active, “osmotic” site through the body’s enmeshment with the world, then, yes, the Anthropocene is an epidermal matter of concern and design. Rosemary Garland-Thomson, feminist theorist writing on disability studies, offers us a suitable way of thinking about corporeality in the Anthropocene, as an ecology of relations. As she notes: “all bodies are shaped by their environments from the moment of conception. We transform constantly in response to our surroundings and register history on our bodies. The changes that occur when body encounters world are what we call disability.”

The skin is embroiled in climate change as a relational form of eco-sickness. This is a sickness that inhabits both human and non-human bodies, revealing their entanglement and co-dependency. We inhale the world; from the oxygen we need to survive mixed with other chemical parts that might hurt us, to numerous shed fragments of skin, as well as a multitude of micro-organisms.

Multiple scholars and writers have hinted at the internet long before its inception: Canadian media theorist Marshal McLuhan coined the term global village in his books The Gutenberg Galaxy: The Making of Typographic Man (1962) and Understanding Media (1964) as a term to describe a global coexistence that organically integrates relationships, international commerce, migration and culture; in the postmodern novel The Crying of Lot 49 (1965), writer Thomas Pynchon created Trystero, a primitive version of the internet as an alternative, underground postal service that acts as the resistance for the monopoly of official means of communication. 

Today the internet is arguably man’s greatest feat, a veritable hivemind of interconnection and endless links, an actualization of the collective consciousness. It is at once McLuhan’s global village, Pynchon’s Trystero, and many others fragmentary visions of the future, mashed into Haraway’s cyborg, beautiful and monstrous all the same. It is now that the concept of mind upload, previously pertaining to the realm of science fiction, has become an actual reality. This concept has been flying around the sci-fi community for centuries, the idea of transferring consciousness to a machine in order to achieve immortality has been plaguing the minds of thinkers, writers, artists from as early as the 1700s, giving birth to early theories of posthumanism.

The science-fiction genre poses an interesting question, especially in instances where sci-fi media was able to accurately predict the future: is the sci-fi author borrowing pre-existent theories from science and advances them to the point of plausible fiction, or is the scientist basing their research and advancing ideas borrowed from sci-fi media to the point of realization? In our current post-spectacle society, it would only make sense that both statements are true. A closer inspection of the internet’s predecessors, TV and cinema, reveals how much they have influenced current online trends and phenomena, specifically on the topic of transhumanist theories. 
Face Filter Mesh
One of the early representations of transhumanism in pop culture is The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest animated series from 1996. Perhaps some readers might remember watching this on Cartoon Network. It was a sci-fi show about teenage adventurer Jonny Quest and his crew where part of the action takes place in “the virtual realm of QuestWorld, a three-dimensional cyberspace domain rendered with computer animation.”² The show had a novel format that mixed the classic style of cartoon animation with the three-dimensional computer one, and motion capture. Moreover, it was one of the very first cable cartoon shows that put forward the notion of a video game-esque Virtual Reality where an individual would be consciously transported into another world. QuestWorld was a research platform conceived as simulation space for various scientific high-risk scenarios that could play out, and a virtual playground for the protagonists. One character that stood out was Jeremiah Surd, the series’ villain, a paralyzed old man who seeks revenge and takes over QuestWorld. As opposed to his real-life counterpart, his cyberspace avatar showed him as a strong, healthy man. 

Pop culture has since been littered with instances of consciousness transfer or mind uploading, which capitalizes on the same kind of escapism that makes video games so satisfying to play, coupled with vicariously living through a character who was carefully crafted and endowed with skills and XP points. Successful high grossing movies like The Matrix, Avatar, ExistenZ, or Transcendence, and TV shows like Harsh Realm, Altered Carbon, Black Mirror, Osmosis were able to craft enticing fictional possibilities of dramatically altering and often all together disposing of one’s body. The allure of being able to shape a better you, the perfect you – the fantasy that all these productions cater to – is, in fact, deeply rooted in feelings of insecurity and inadequacy; and this makes up an important part of why productions that approach transhumanism are so beloved. This proves to be an excellent example of how the entertainment media facilitates and reinforces the widespread of beauty ideals and eternal self-improvement. 

As the internet became the dominant entertainment media, it took transhumanism to a whole new level. Today’s online reality is comparable to a hybrid between the 2006 comic series The Surrogates and the 2011 novel Ready Player One (both adapted into blockbuster films in 2009 and 2018 respectively). Both were written before the era of online influencers, yet they portray an eerily accurate image. In The Surrogates, people use androids shaped like perfect versions of themselves to navigate the real world and experience it, pain and death free. Crime is non-existent and everyone gets to live their best lives while keeping their true selves tucked away. In Ready Player One, the real world is struggling with an economic crisis, and so people escape it through a virtual reality game, much like Questworld, but more akin to a virtual society with its currency being the most stable in the world. The only thing keeping these two stories in the realm of science-fiction is the fact that we have yet to find a way to fully immerse ourselves in the virtual world. But with the rise of VR technology, however, we may not be that far off. 

If previously dominant forms of entertainment media and pop-culture were able to predict and bring about the birth of cyberspace, as well as shape our desires and expectations, what can the current dominant media, the internet culture, predict about the future, and how will it influence it in its own right? Like its predecessors, the internet hints at the possibility of total mind upload and total control over one’s virtual avatar, of an inhabitable virtual space. But unlike TV and cinema, the internet is interactive, or even self-reflective, it is not static, it evolves along with us, often jumping ahead. 

Transhumanism via social mediaAnd so today, as the web seems to have completely engulfed every aspect of our lives in the context of CO-VID19, the prevalence of transhumanist tendencies is more evident than ever, that is the use of any new available technology to enhance the human species. Transhumanism is quite literally taking place via social media, where we upload instances of our carefully curated online persona.
On the internet, we have the chance to be whoever we want to be. We can expose our true selves, we can become other people and hide behind alter-egos, or we can turn into a better, improved version of ourselves, worthy of a cult following. Online, there is this sense of anew, as if we were bodies without organs, ready to be filled. But with what?
The internet has provided a testing ground for alternative life timelines where multiple instances of ourselves can play out, with social media offering an efficient score system to measure the popularity and success of these instances. With this hierarchic system in place though, it would seem that cyberspace is essentially a capitalism s(t)imulator: an environment that both simulates reality but also stimulates it, an endless loop of media overload where fact and fiction become harder and harder to discern. Those who have managed to spiral up this loop and become internet famous are, more often than not, extremely beautiful. Beautiful faces proliferate the web, normalizing and enforcing global beauty standards like never before, and as the web is aiming towards singularity, the real world is struggling to keep. This phenomenon of attempting to mimic online content is nothing more than a simulacrum, a simulation of a simulation. We often forget that what we see online is not the real thing, despite the candor and authenticity that online influencers conduct themselves by. They look real, but how can we be sure? 

By now it’s common knowledge that the photos we see in media are most likely doctored, and this, of course, holds true online, more so with the rise of increasingly complex photo editing apps with ever-more subtle and realistic results. But through the mirror projection of the web, it becomes easier to believe the online spectacle. As Guy Debord so adequately described in his seminal work, The Society of the Spectacle (1967), and further highlighted in Comments on the Society of the Spectacle (1988), media or the spectacle is a mirror image of a society where authentic social living has been replaced with its mere representation, where "the specialization of images of the world has culminated in a world of autonomized images where even the deceivers are deceived"³. Online, it is easy to forget that we are still only subjected to media, moving images, representations, even when it comes to our own self-image reflected back to us. The web’s interactive and all-seeing nature has made it easier to believe what we see is real or, at the very least, attainable. And so, seemingly beautiful people of all races and cultures use social media to showcase their looks and reveal the secrets behind them, oftentimes unintentionally.

Keeping up with your virtual self
In Kim Kardashian’s Work from home beauty routine video uploaded during the lockdown on April 10th 2020, a quick eye might be able to catch a tiny glitch: as Kim moves around, the straight, black lines of the shower behind her, are slightly curving, revealing the usage of a video face filter. Can the façade of beauty and wealth be crumbling from a few displaced pixels? To some degree, yes. The birth of online influencers and their rise to stardom is only one of the lucrative industries to come out of the virtual sphere: it is simultaneously a means of acquiring image capital, as well as financial capital. The online influencer phenomenon is the embodiment of the “fake it till you make it” mindset. 
Kylie Jenner beauty transformation (source:
Indeed, the Kardashian-Jenner sisters have monopolized the beauty industry and have set about new standards to which the entire world seems to be abiding. This is most evident online, especially on Instagram, where plump lips, cat eyes, and hourglass bodies occupy main stage. Take Kelsey Calemine, aka @fatherkels, an online influencer who isn’t known for anything in particular, other than looking like a mix between Kylie Jenner and actress Lucy Hale. In fact, Calemine rose to online fame and amassed over 2 million followers after Hale came across one of her photos and asked people to confirm if it was a real person or a digitally morphed image. Very little is known about Calemine’s life, other than her extraordinary good looks and the brands she promotes. For all anyone knows, she might not even be a real person. Virtual influencers, such as @lilmiquela, are here and brands don’t seem to care. In fact, brands find it easier to work with a 3D model than an actual person, since they can fully control the avatar and its appearance. What separates then @fatherkels from @lilmiquela, when both operate in the exact same way online, as virtual billboards, not just for the brands and products they advertise, but for a specific lifestyle and specific physical features?
Western culture still promotes unattainable beauty standards that are deemed natural. Plastic surgery remains a topic to be discussed behind closed doors, away from cameras and internet forums.
Kylie Jenner is a noteworthy example in this sense. Seen growing up on the KUWTK reality TV show (airing for over 13 years now), fans were quick to notice when Jenner’s thin lips suddenly appeared bigger. She denied getting fillers at first, maintaining that she was simply overlining her lips. This later prompted her to launch a highly successful makeup brand, which subsequently made her a billionaire. Since then, she’s been open about getting lip fillers and has since been contributing to the rapidly growing popularity of cosmetic surgery. Despite this, she and her sisters are still very secretive about the procedures they had done. For a family who made a fortune on exposing their lives for all to see, it would appear that there still remain aspects hidden from the public eye. 

Transhumanism as a commodity or Becoming BrandThe beauty industry is booming at the moment, and online influencers are at the forefront of it. As cosmetic surgery and professional beauty products become more and more affordable around the globe, it is interesting to note how various cultures have responded to these trends. In the USA and the dominant western culture – the appointed taste-makers of cyberspace –, beauty-enhancing procedures are very common but partakers don’t usually admit to it. It is paradoxical how, in western culture where capitalism has the strongest hold on society, a very lucrative business like cosmetic surgery is advertised subliminally. But while celebrities and influencers mostly deny going under the knife, they publicly owe their good looks to make-up, beauty products, diets, and workout routines, which they happily endorse across social media platforms. And we’re not merely talking about brand ambassadors or public advertised posts, we’re talking morning bathroom selfies with a bottle of skin cleanser visible in the background. Western society still maintains the illusion of natural beauty only slightly enhanced by acquirable commodities subversively marketed under the guise of innocuous unassuming typical influencer content.
Moving away from the west towards Eastern Europe, in a country such as Romania, capitalism has divorced from natural beauty and has publicly embraced artificially enhanced beauty and its means of production. Here, celebrities and influencers advertise all aspects of their beauty routines, including cosmetic surgery procedures, and often post photos of themselves in beauty clinics or posing with their surgeons, in addition to various other products.
It would appear that Eastern European influencers are more honest about engaging in posthuman practices. However, a closer look into recent local scandals involving several renowned online celebrities reveals the shady underworking of social media representation. A local Romanian luxury beauty brand, as well as some renowned celebrity cosmetic surgeons, have come under fire after numerous allegations of side effects that left customers disfigured. A number of consumers, most of which are women, have reported buying products or undergoing expensive skin treatments after an array of influential and trustworthy online personalities heavily advertised them. This prompted an impending lawsuit against the brands and considerable backlash against those who promoted them online. Interestingly enough, the brands, as well as the online influencers attached to them, responded to the allegations with victim-blaming and even more aggressive marketing strategies. Very few of the accused online influencers ceased their advertising to listen to what their community of followers had to say. In the context of the online sabbatical enforced by the virus pandemic, the greater Romanian online community started to see some online influencers for what they really are: ads, virtual billboards, beautiful avatars who advertise whatever is given to them. 
Plush Bio - natural beauty products Scandal (source:
Unlike western influencers, their Eastern European counterparts don’t appear to practice mindfulness, nor are they afraid to publicly integrate a brand into their virtual identity. Rather they become a brand in their own right. Becoming brand. But in post-communist countries who are only mimicking western neoliberalism without a firm grasp of it, online personalities have not yet mastered the art of selling themselves, of building their own image capital instead of appropriating it. Romanian influencers are not ashamed nor afraid to wear capitalism on their sleeve. They publicly protect the industries that pay their bills in an attempt to simultaneously keep afloat the industry they work for while maintaining online credibility. The phenomenon of brand integration into one’s own virtual identity allows for appropriating the capital image as well as the ideology of any given commodity, absolving the individual from taking any kind of responsibility. As such, it is unsurprising for online figures to demonstrate loyalty to the brands they associate with because this ensures that their own image remains intact. 

This image is a virtual copy, however, one that does not necessarily align to the original. Going even further east towards China and South-Korea, we encounter a cyborg who is stranger still: the Asian online influencer, a blend of traditional Asian beauty features (specific shape of eyebrows, a small mouth), Western physical traits (big eyes), various prosthetics (exaggerated make-up, contact lenses, tape to keep skin in place) and heavy digital editing. Much has been discussed on the topic of the face filters prominently used by Asian influencers in the wake of a viral video of Qiao Biluo, a Chinese vlogger, who experienced a glitch during a live transmission and was revealed to be a middle-aged woman and not the young girl she claimed to be. This incident shed considerable light on the inner workings of the Asian live-streaming community and the real identities of its most successful participants. On social platforms like Douyu it is not uncommon for streamers to make use of morphing face filters that hide their true appearance and organize bids for their identity reveal. Another common practice is the use of excessive face and body make-up that further enhances their look through filters. The full embrace of transhumanism in Asian culture is even more evident in the ever-expanding plastic surgery business of South-Korea. Here, medics have attained celebrity status, clinics are advertised on billboards, and they resemble shopping malls rather than hospitals, with user-friendly displays and even a tourist center for what is now known as medical tourism. In the turbo-capitalism of Asia, it is only natural to treat plastic surgery as just another commodity; parents frequently offer the popular blepharoplasty or “double-lid” surgery as high school graduation gifts for their children, and K-pop singers and actors are contractually required to undergo cosmetic procedures. South-Koreans are renowned for being the most cosmetically enhanced people on the planet, and they seem to be proud of it.
Second Life advertising escapism in times of Co-vid19
However, the world-wide beauty cult of online influencers does not exist in a vacuum, rather it shares the same cyberspace with the rapidly growing body-positivity movement. In recent years, numerous pages have popped up, such as @beauty.false or InformOverload, debunking the beauty myths of social media by revealing before and after shots, or flagrant use of editing tools on pictures of famous beautiful people. There have also been multiple documentaries and video essays on the dark side of internet culture, plastic surgery, and false advertising. The aim of such endeavors is neither to expose celebrities, nor to condemn the use of photo editing apps or plastic surgery, but rather to remind and reassure everyone that what we see online is just a representation. This is what the height of internet culture looks like today, a cyborg between entertainment media, voyeurism, and consumerism, hidden behind a beautiful visage that is, more often than not, just a false face. 

A speculative future
In the last decade, we have borne witness to the power of the internet fundamentally reshaping how we think, communicate, and, above all, look. Cyberspace gave us the tools to morph our flesh as if it were plaster and the inspiration to continuously sculpt. Whether we shape a new and improved virtual self, secluding our real identities, or we attempt to match the real with the virtual through the wide range of available commodities for feature enhancement, we nevertheless lose a part of ourselves in our continual symbiosis with the internet. In this desolate present, what can one hope for the future? puts forward an optimistic vision of radical body acceptance, abolishing current beauty trends and repurposing plastic surgery for experimental forms of body expression. Such a future would entail a revolutionary refusal of current beauty norms, reclaiming the virtual sphere for promoting inclusivity, self-love, and actual natural beauty, glimpses of which can already be seen as mentioned above. 

On the other hand, online social games such as Second Life or the more recent IMVU suggest a different kind of future where we exclusively inhabit cyberspace and interact with each other through IMs. IMVU most notably is pushing for total mind-upload while incentivizing all current beauty trends: plump lips, cat eyes, big butts and large breasts, high-end brands, luxury décor, and chat rooms with VIP exclusive adult content. IMVU downright sells an interactive body without organs that proves to be far more enticing than the current reality of 2020.
But those who attempt to escape reality and the trappings of late-stage capitalism are doomed to encounter them tenfold online, while those who attempt to play out the virtual in actuality could end up transfigured. Perhaps a cyborg of these two speculative futures could cherry-pick only the positive aspects – the acne-positivity posts, the body hair acceptance, and the diverse creativity of the body-positivity online revolution acting as counterculture movement to the fake beauty cult; coupled with testing and seeking to improve infinite real life scenarios with realistic virtual simulators to fix the flaws of our crumbling society.
Perhaps mind uploading does not have to be a permanent state, perhaps there is a way to sow virtual seeds and bring the fruit back to real-life existence. In some ways, the 2020 lockdown could be seen as beta testing for such a future, the world collectively took a deep dive into cyberspace and resurfaced as something else. Few came back richer, as the wealthy 1% managed to accumulate even more wealth during the pandemic; some came back wiser and more suspicious of the media spectacle, but most came back more disillusioned than ever, losing their jobs, their significant others, their overall well-being. Cyberspace is not yet suitable for total mind upload, not as long as it continues to s(t)imulate the status quo. The internet has to be reclaimed and put to good use, and, as it stands, the online users of today have the means to simulate a better society online in order to further stimulate actual existence. This is possible only by dismantling the current online hegemony, renouncing beauty standards and the mirage of the spectacle, rebooting the internet and returning it to its own form of body without organs. Only then can we attempt once more to reconfigure ourselves in infinitely beautiful ways and hope for singularity.

“Cyborg imagery can suggest a way out of the maze of dualisms in which we have explained our bodies and our tools to ourselves. This is a dream not of a common language, but of a powerful infidel heteroglossia. […] It means both building and destroying machines, identities, categories, relationships, space stories. Though both are bound in the spiral dance, I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess.”
Marina Oprea (b.1989) lives and works in Bucharest and is the current editor of the online edition of Revista ARTA. She graduated The National University of Fine Arts in Bucharest, with a background in photography and video art, and has since extended her interest into the area of critical writing. She is keen to point out the instances where pop culture meets contemporary art, her texts often indicating performativity as the intersection between the two. In between projects she makes translations and collaborates with various national and international artistic publications.