Tru󴟀 the M󱣠:

A queer 󲌐ide to failing fabulously by ViCi Feger

Failure. Performativity. Queer(ing). Process. Non-mastery.


How can failure and non-mastery function as methods for knowledge production and connection in a society shaped by over-optimisation?


Maybe the answer is already in the process. Less outcome. More trying. Repeating. Failing again.


It’s a work in process.


Photo-collage edit of camp trickster persona

Opening Invocation

What fabulous failure I am.


These past months I have been struggling and, quite miserably, failing—frequently, publicly, without grace. Progress slowed. Plans collapsed. Energy disappeared. The schedule did not care. Productivity certainly didn’t. Deadlines marched forward in straight lines while I lay diagonally.


Somewhere in that diagonal position something shifted.


Because failure, when it stops being a verdict and starts being a condition, behaves differently. It softens rooms. It rearranges hierarchies. It invites witnesses. It produces conversations that success has no reason to host. Success isolates; failure gathers. Success is efficient; failure is porous. Success speaks in bullet points; failure stutters, repeats, digresses, forgets what it was saying and remembers something else instead.


This research does not ask how to overcome failure.

It asks what failure does.


Specifically: how failure and non-mastery might function as methods for building trust, meaning, and connection in a society trained to optimize everything—time, bodies, output, attention, even care. We are taught to smooth rough edges, to polish drafts, to present results rather than processes. We are trained to hide the moment before something works. But that hidden moment—the awkward, unresolved, unstable one—is precisely where relation happens.


I began to suspect that failure might not be the opposite of knowledge, but one of its conditions.

Not knowing invites others. Knowing dismisses them.


This suspicion did not emerge from theory first. It emerged from interruption: disrupted routines, limited capacity, unfinished attempts, asking for help when I did not want to, accepting slowness when I wanted velocity. Only later did theory arrive, almost smugly, as if it had been waiting backstage all along, clearing its throat: non-mastery, queer failure, trickster logic, performativity. Words for something I had already stumbled into bodily.


So this document proceeds the same way failure does—sideways. It moves through fragments, performances, workshops, walking routes, voice notes, video stills, citations, and slips. It does not argue in a straight line. It accumulates evidence the way dust accumulates on a shelf: gradually, relationally, without announcement.


I may be inconsistent, excessive at points and fully half-aware. You may call me embarrassing. Not fully human. Not fully animal. Definitely responsible.


We do not stand outside the system. We live inside it.

It slips. It trips. And hopefully falls.


I am standing in an office. Unmoving. Doing nothing. The glitch to expose the rules of this room.

Smashing windows with a flower. Too soft to be violent. Too violent to be soft. You don’t understand? You feel it.


If success is about control, then failure might be about contact.

And if that is true, then failure is not a collapse.


It is an opening.


Now the cat is out of the backpack.


There lies a treacherous journey ahead of us, with many sticks and stones. Participation is a risk. I understand that you are scared. You should continue now.


Or don’t.

That would also make sense.


The World That Fears Failure

We live inside a culture that edits itself in real time.


Mistakes are deleted before they are seen. Drafts are replaced by outcomes. Glitches are smoothed into transitions. Even our hesitations have begun to feel unprofessional. The demand is not simply to succeed, but to appear as if success required no effort—as if nothing trembled before it stabilized. In such a climate, failure is not merely discouraged: it is rendered illegible. It is treated as noise in a system designed for signal.


Optimization has become an aesthetic as much as an ideology. Smoothness signals competence. Speed signals intelligence. Clarity signals authority. Friction, meanwhile, reads as error. The messy middle is hidden not because it lacks value, but because it reveals process—and process exposes vulnerability. To witness someone in the midst of not knowing is to encounter them without armor. Contemporary culture prefers armor.

Design culture, too, often participates in this logic. Professionalism is frequently measured through polish: clean grids, resolved concepts, finished artifacts. Yet the figure of the designer as seamless problem-solver conceals how much uncertainty actually underlies any act of making. The myth of mastery persists precisely because the traces of non-mastery are edited out. The sketch is hidden; the prototype discarded; the failed iteration quietly forgotten. What remains is the illusion that things arrive whole.


But the whole is always composed of fragments.


What interests me is not the finished object but the unstable moment before it coheres—when meaning is still negotiating with itself. That moment, fragile and unresolved, is where relation becomes possible. When something is unfinished, others can enter it. When something is certain, there is nowhere to stand except outside it.


This is why failure can feel socially dangerous: it redistributes authority. If no one fully knows, then knowledge must circulate. If no one is fully in control, then control becomes collective. Failure interrupts the fantasy of the self-sufficient individual and replaces it with a scene of interdependence. It exposes the fact that making has never been solitary—only narrated that way.


To take failure seriously, then, is not to romanticize collapse. It is to question the conditions that demand seamlessness in the first place. What kinds of worlds require constant optimization? Who benefits from uninterrupted productivity? And what forms of relation become possible if we refuse the demand to function flawlessly?


Notes I didn't Mean to Keep

Day—unknown.

Tried to begin properly. Failed immediately. Good. Kept that.

Note to self: a method that works too well cannot reveal anything.


I was told to “clarify my research structure”.

Instead I recorded myself breathing.


Chat window, 02:14 a.m.

You ask: what is my research question really?

Cursor blinking like it knows something I don’t.


We decide the question should not trap the work but accompany it. Like a suspicious friend.


Transcript of a conversation with Valerie.

Let’s take the video I recorded of myself tumbling around in the forest. And exploring the space, kind of in a clumsy way.

Oh, like that.


It is a performance of failure. Or is it?

I didn’t see any failure... For me it was just fun. I saw a person having fun in the woods.


Maybe we shouldn’t call it failure. It’s hinting at this idea of the mastery of non-mastery.

Yeah, exactly.


That you don’t want to master something. You don’t want to... There’s no fixed thing to learn. You’re just exploring, basically. And exploring something has many different ways of outcomes. And none of which are just like the right one.


Workshop day.

Someone cuts a page into strips and whispers, “I think I’m ruining it.”

I write down: ruining = beginning


Observation.

When expectations disappear, people start talking to each other. When outcomes disappear, people start noticing materials. When success disappears, time softens.

Conclusion (temporary):

Failure is a social lubricant?


Another fragment of a conversation.

So not hiding your weakness is queer.


At least that’s my opinion. Embracing the failure.

Mm-hmm.


I’m not denying it. That it’s a part of you, this catharsis you have to go through every time you do something.

Yeah.


Doing without failing is not doing.


Walking again. Rain. Phone almost dies. Recording cuts mid-sentence: maybe failure is not—File ends.

Important methodological event: interruption.


Time and time again you see the same artists, institutions and organizations accumulating resources when they have more than enough. When does anyone ever say, we have enough? When will they ever have enough? It doesn't make any sense.


What is it that they really desire? I walk on this street and I see how there are cracks in the pavement where grass has started to root. You can't, you cannot kill nature. It will come back and again and again.


And again. Like lungs, it has these small vessels, twigs growing, reaching for the sun.


Checklist I was supposed to follow:

— clear argument

— defined outcome

— stable framework


Checklist I actually followed:

— follow confusion

— document collapse

— repeat experiment

— ask for help (uggh)

— rest

— resume


Fragment from a conversation.

asking for help is also failure...

no—asking for help is trust.

Underline twice.


Research principle (emerging, not declared):

If a process feels too smooth, complicate it.

If it feels too controlled, invite someone else in.


End of section. Or pause. Or continuation pretending to stop.


Theory That Refuses to Sit Still

The classroom door swings open. No one agrees on where to sit.


Michael Taussig is already talking, chalk dust on his sleeves, insisting that mastery is suspicious. He proposes instead the strange authority of hesitation—that understanding often appears precisely when certainty loosens its grip. Knowledge, he suggests, is not a monument but a leak. Control it too tightly and it dries up.


Before this can settle, Jack Halberstam interrupts from the back row, feet on the table, delighted: failure, he says, is not merely something to analyze but something to practice. Failure refuses the timelines of capitalism, the metrics of respectability, the demand that life must add up neatly. To fail, in this sense, is to step sideways out of scripts that were never written for you anyway.


Someone laughs.


From somewhere indeterminate—podium? ceiling? inside the desk?—emerges Carl Jung’s archetypal mischief-maker, the figure who disrupts order not to destroy it but to expose its seams. The trickster trips systems so we can see how they balance. He tells jokes at solemn moments. He misuses tools. He asks the wrong question and reveals the real one. If the hero stabilizes the world, the trickster destabilizes it just enough that we notice it was never stable to begin with.


A chair screeches. A new voice enters.


Judith Butler clears their throat and reminds the room that identity itself is performative—not a fixed truth but something rehearsed into being through repetition. If identity is performed, then so is competence. So is authority. So is success. Which means failure, too, is performative: a visible break in the script that reveals the script was there all along.


Someone drops their notes. No one picks them up.


Near the window, Ruben Pater flips through a book and shrugs. The designer as amateur, he suggests, may be more honest than the designer as expert. The amateur admits uncertainty. The amateur shows process. The amateur tries things that might not work. Professionalism often hides this condition, but hiding is not the same as eliminating. The mess remains; only its visibility changes.


Everyone is speaking at once. Their words overlap until they stop behaving like terms and start behaving like verbs.


No single theory wins the argument.


Because what begins to emerge from this noisy seminar is not a unified doctrine but a shared orientation: all of these thinkers, in different languages, distrust seamlessness. Each of them points—sometimes gently, sometimes gleefully—toward the generative potential of disruption, uncertainty, and misalignment. None of them treat failure as a dead end. They treat it as an opening, a method, a condition under which something unexpected might occur.


The lecture dissolves. The classroom remains.

On the board, someone has written:


If knowledge requires certainty, only the confident can know.


If knowledge requires vulnerability, anyone can begin.


No one remembers who wrote it.


Field Reports from the Republic of Trying

Okay. Let me start again. Failure is—No. Wait.

Failure performs. Not like theatre. More like a glitch that insists on being seen.


At the workshop table.

Someone cuts a magazine page wrong. Diagonal instead of straight. They freeze. Look up. Apologize. No one asked them to apologize. Miron shrugs gently: there’s no wrong way. The room exhales.

What happens next is small but seismic: scissors start moving everywhere. Someone rips instead of cuts. Someone glues a page shut. Someone makes a booklet that cannot open. Someone says, “Wait, this is actually fun.”


I try to explain this clearly. I really do.

I want a clean sentence. A sentence with shoes on. A sentence that walks straight.

But failure keeps interrupting... with muddy feet.


Historical reconstruction (imagined):

I am at the Post-Precarity Autumn Camp. I am not at the Post-Precarity Autumn Camp. Both are true inside research. In one timeline I sit in a circle with strangers. We share unfinished projects, abandoned drafts, ideas that never worked. In another timeline I stay home, tired, missing it, not knowing it is happening, failing to attend. Yet even absence produces data. What I've learned from (not) being there:

— longing is relational

— imagination is participation

— exclusion reveals structure

Conclusion: Non-attendance can also be fieldwork.


Watch:

I say something wrong. I correct it. I correct the correction. I apologize. I laugh.

Now you’re watching me more closely than before. Failure just staged attention.


During filming.

My lipstick smudges. I keep recording. I smudge it more. The camera tilts. I keep recording. A prop drops. I keep recording. My camera dies and the file is corrupted.

Later, reviewing footage, I realize the usable material begins exactly where things “went wrong”.


Editing note:

mistake → replay

replay → pattern

pattern → choreography


I drop something. You notice.

I drop it again. Now it’s choreography.


Theory tries to intervene here, politely, like a lecturer raising a hand, but practice talks over it. Practice is louder. Practice has glue on its fingers. Practice is still laughing.


Performativity is not acting. It’s repetition that makes something real.

So what happens... when what repeats... is rupture?


Walking log, 17:42.

Step. Step. Step. Thought: maybe failure is relational because it exposes need. Step. Thought: maybe competence hides need. Step. Step. Voice note accidentally deleted.

Important: deletion is also an event.


Someone coughs off camera. A cut happens too early. A subtitle arrives late. The audio lags behind the mouth.

Nothing matches. Everything is communicating.


In critique culture, polish is persuasive. In lived experience, polish is suspicious. The smoother something appears, the more labor it hides. Failure reverses that economy. It reveals effort. It leaks rehearsal. It testifies to process.


Success performs invisibility. Failure performs process.


I once thought failure happened after the attempt. Now it seems failure is the condition that makes the attempt perceptible at all. Without the possibility of rupture, action would be indistinguishable from inevitability.


Failure is a gesture. A movement. A visible crack. A slip of the tongue that becomes a door.


Transcript fragment, conversation with Valerie.

You have... a rotting tree.

Okay?


The rotting tree is the dominant culture. It’s heteronormativity.

Mh...


It’s this productivity-driven society... and it’s a rotting tree. And what the trickster is... she doesn’t climb the tree or go around it, but she shovels the tree... and crawls under it.

For what? Where does she go?


She wants to shake up the tree... She doesn’t want the tree to be standing still... So she does something unexpected.

Okay, sure...


Does this metaphor not do anything for you? I feel like the fool...

First time I...


What the fool does is he dances around the tree or, maybe scrapes some bark off... In this metaphor.


First time you said a rotting tree, I thought of the tree as like laying down already... because the foundation is not there anymore.

No, it’s just slowly rotting. It’s still there. It has a parasite that lives off of it... Maybe this metaphor is failing to convey my point... I don’t know... Maybe the parasite is the dominant culture and the tree itself... is society.


Think of someone tripping.

Before the fall → person.

After the fall → story.

Failure produces narrative.


This research, then, is not documenting failure. It is following the stories that appear where stability breaks.


I wanted this document to be precise. Structured. Convincing. Instead it is stuttering. Which might be more honest.


Important methodological reversal.

Not

What did I discover through research?

But

What did failure allow to appear?


Performativity means something becomes real because it is enacted. So what becomes real when I enact not-knowing?

Maybe failure is the only honest choreography.


I forgot what I was saying.


No I didn’t. I just wanted you to feel the gap.

Gaps are where other people fit.


Observation from the field.

When nothing has to succeed, people stay longer.

When no one is evaluated, people speak softer. When outcomes disappear, presence increases.

Failure, it turns out, is not the collapse of meaning. It is the rehearsal of relation.


This poem might not work.

This essay might not conclude.

This method might not convince.

Stay anyway.


End of Beginning

You are invited.


Not to witness perfection. Not to consume knowledge as product. Not to applaud competence. You are invited to step into the cracks, the gaps, the stutters, the accidental rehearsals. You are invited to follow the falling scissors, the delayed subtitles, the smudged lipstick, the missing voice notes, the laughter that refuses timing.


This is not a demonstration. This is a rehearsal.


If you stay long enough, you may notice something: trust accumulates in the unpolished corners. Attention gathers around what refuses to be contained. Care emerges where control loosens. Stories form from missteps, pauses, and the multiplicity of attempts. Presence itself becomes a medium, a method, a small act of generosity.


We cannot conclude. Not here. Not yet. Because failure, when taken seriously, refuses closure. It continues sideways, in a spiral, it circulates, it hums underneath, it lingers in the body and the room. It multiplies in collective encounters.


So sit, stand, shift. Cut something crooked. Ask for help. Leave a note on the desk. Trace your fingers along unfinished lines. Speak your fragments aloud.


The work is not finished. The world is not finished. And you—if you wish—are part of it. This is document is written in loops. A research essay that bends, stumbles, and performs its own uncertainty.


It does not answer all the questions. It opens them.

And it invites you to fail fabulously alongside it.


Voices (in my Head)

C.G. Jung—The Psychology of the Trickster Figure, 1954. On mischief, disruption, and how subversion reveals hidden systems.


Judith Butler—Gender Trouble, 1990 (and related essays on performativity). On how identity, competence, and social norms are enacted through repetition—foundational to understanding failure as performative.


Pipilotti Rist—Ever is Over All, 1997. On soft disruption, poetic violence, and the pleasure of misalignment: where tenderness and destruction blur, and confusion opens space for feeling over understanding.


Michael Taussig—The Mastery of Non-Mastery, 2003. On practicing uncertainty, embracing the fragment, learning through repeated imperfection.


Jack Halberstam—The Queer Art of Failure, 2011. On failure as methodology, sideways thinking, and resisting normative success.


Meg-John Barker & Jules Scheele—Queer: A Graphic History, 2016. On queering as an active verb: a practice of undoing norms, shifting perspectives, and reworking what is taken for granted through playful, critical, and lived intervention.


Pilvi Takala—The Stroker, 2018. On social awkwardness as method: using over-performance and misplaced care to expose invisible rules, productivity norms, and the discomfort of unscripted interaction.


Ruben Prater—Caps Lock (The Designer as Amateur), 2019. On embracing experimentation, process, and imperfection in design culture.


Be Oakley—Publishing Now: A Working Class Guide to Making a Living Off Small and Self Publishing, 2023. On inviting failure in as a collaborator, treating mistakes as companions in the process, where publishing becomes a space of ongoing negotiation, imperfection, and trust rather than polished outcome.


Post-Precarity Autumn Camp, ongoing initiative. On collective experimentation beyond precarity: creating temporary spaces where uncertainty, shared vulnerability, and not-knowing become conditions for learning, unlearning, and building trust through doing together.


Queer & alternative archives (IHLIA, Amsterdam). Inspiration for queering collective knowledge and material practices.


Workshops, publications, and video collages produced collaboratively with Miron—explorations of play, zine-making, and no-expectation participatory practice.


Spreading the Gratitude

This document is built from failure, curiosity, and generosity—all of which are gifts freely given, freely received, and endlessly circulating.


Thank you so much to all those who failed alongside me: Dirk Vis, Thomas Buxo, François Girard-Meunier, Simnikiwe Buhlungu—for your guidance and patience. And thanks to Miron, Florens, Valerie, Trevor—for laughter, interruption, radical trust, and shared missteps.


I certify that to the best of my knowledge, the content of this research document is my own work. This essay has not previously been submitted for any degree or other purposes. The intellectual content of this essay is the product of my own work and all the assistance received in preparing this essay and sources have been acknowledged.


No A.I. was used to create this work.


Typeface ReadMe by Eugénie Bidaut, Ludi Loiseau & Clara Sambot.


Proof-read by Valerie and Panna.

Written and designed by ViCi.


Royal Academy of Art

The Hague, Netherlands

April 2026