The Artist as a Son of a Butch

I was born between a butcher’s block and a bookshelf —
half ham, half hypothesis.
They taught me to carve first, and to quote later.
Now I mince meaning instead of meat.

My name is Son of a Butch — a hereditary title, a linguistic accident, a brand of philosophy with a layer of fat.
I am a doctor of sociology and a pedagogue by trade,
which means I study the structures of the world and then teach them how to dance off-beat.

I do not paint, I slice.
I do not sculpt, I stitch.
I build my work from leftovers: words, habits, data, bones.
Where others see theory, I see sausages of thought —
linked, twisted, occasionally bursting with truth.

Artistic Statement (or Refusal Thereof)

I create SchWeinWelten —
a terrain of pigs and paradoxes,
where language leaks and reason blushes.
My art begins where logic forgets its manners.
Each piece is an autopsy of order:
cut open, rearranged, and served warm with irony.

I am not interested in perfection.
Perfection is for machines and priests.
I prefer the awkward, the tender, the slightly rotten.
The moment where sociology meets saliva,
and pedagogy becomes performance.

Mediums & Methods

My tools: cleaver, keyboard, conscience.
My materials: words, memories, family ghosts, regulation texts.
My method: controlled nonsense under theoretical supervision.
Sometimes I call it “empirical absurdity.”
Sometimes just “dinner.”

Philosophy of the Pig

The pig is the most honest philosopher:
it eats, it sleeps, it wallows, it sings.
It knows that purity is a myth and mixture is divine.
In its belly: sociology.
In its eyes: pedagogy.
In its squeal: revolution.

Curriculum Disvitae

Ph.D. in Education (thesis on the anatomy of mentoring).
Educator by conviction, Dadaist by accident.
Raised in a butcher’s shop where metaphors were literal and knives were honest.
Now I cure concepts instead of meat,
and hang them in the open air of the internet to dry.

Declaration of Intent

I aim to confuse with precision,
to teach without teaching,
to write texts that smell faintly of truth and lunch.
My work stands at the intersection of flesh, form, and foolishness —
where academia wears an apron and art hums in the cold room.

Signature:
🩸 Dr. Stephan Pflaum
aka Son of a Butch
Ph.D. (Sociology & Education)
Founder of SchWeinWelten —
where thought gets cured and words learn to grunt.