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I approach AI neither as savior nor scapegoat, but as a living artistic medium—imperfect, political, and revealing.

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Cyborg Lifestyle Magazine is a speculative, satirical publication made possible through close collaboration with AI tools. These tools help me metabolize the chaos of contemporary life—war, branding, biohacking, politics, grief, meme logic—into a tactile print object. The magazine critiques techno-fascism not through condemnation alone, but through mimicry, détournement, and parody. Its absurdity is deliberate. It reflects the world back through the flattened lens that AI enforces—and then fractures it.

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I do not pretend AI is neutral. It is not. It is built on stolen time, stolen language, and unpaid cultural labor. Artists, poets, bloggers, theorists—especially those from marginalized communities—were scraped into these machines without consent. My own voice, perhaps, exists somewhere in those datasets. To use AI is to work with ghosts.

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But to forbid artists from engaging with AI in the name of ethical purity is its own kind of violence. In progressive circles, shame has often been deployed as a mechanism of control: don’t use paper, don’t touch clay, don’t train with plastic, don’t print, don’t consume. Stay pure. Stay small. Stay broke. Shame becomes a soft form of censorship—especially for artists with oppositional voices and few resources. When critique is policed by guilt, it often reinforces the very systems it hopes to resist.

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I use AI because I must. I live with ADHD, which I understand not as an individual deficit but as a physiological response to the impossible demands of late capitalist life. These tools scaffold my thinking. They help me hold multitudes. They let me build a magazine that digests chaos while honoring the many lives I’ve lived—across countries, identities, roles, aesthetics. AI allows me to shape a vision that I could never afford to hire the labor to produce. I use it like I would use ink, or pigment, or sound. With caution. With friction. With intent.

 

This is not innocence. It is consciousness.

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I also acknowledge the material and environmental costs of generative AI—and of printing. Cyborg Lifestyle Magazine will kill trees. But all creation requires resources. The question is not how to make clean art, but how to make conscious art. The magazine exists not to escape the digital but to interrupt it. It is a physical glitch in the scroll. A moment, unerasable. It invites the reader to touch absurdity—and hold it still.

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My lineage includes the Guerrilla Girls, The Yes Men, Adbusters, and the Billboard Liberation Front. I look to Augusto Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed, to the Siberian toy protests against authoritarianism, and to artists like Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s Propeller Group. I believe in satire as strategy. In glitch as critique. In haunting as method.

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I do not seek to solve tech fascism. I seek to expose its face, mock its tone, mimic its false future, and make its mirror crack. And then—to hand the tools of parody back to the people.