The “broken faces” of soldiers who returned from the First World War, stand as some of the most haunting portraits of the 20th century. Shattered by shrapnel and surgery, these men bore their wounds in full view, refusing erasure in a society unequipped to face their pain. PoD carries that legacy into the present.

The fractures here are not inflicted by war, but by memory, identity, and the silent violence of being. These faces are distorted not by metal, but by pressure, from within and without. In both, the portrait refuses to heal cleanly. And in both, there is a strange, defiant beauty in the decision to remain visible, to let the damage speak.

These are not portraits in any traditional sense. They do not attempt to represent; they unsettle. The paint does not describe. It attacks. It buries and reveals, distorts and exposes. Each brushstroke becomes a wound, a gesture of defiance, an act of unmaking.

In this collection, identity is treated not as a fixed essence but as a volatile construction, layered, unstable, and deeply fragile. What emerges is not a person, but a field of conflict. These faces are not whole; they are held together by tension alone.

Collectors of MY BRAIN ON CHAIN each hold a fragment of the artist’s mind and creative self. In Portraits of Dissonance, that bond came alive. Their instinctive, emotional reactions to the early works shaped both the titles and the tone of the final pieces.

These individual responses, distilled into co-curation statements, are now inscribed on- chain — part of the art forever. The decentralized mind spoke through the collectors, and the art listened, completing the loop from thought to audience, and back again.