The Singapore Art Book Fair has sadly scrapped its visionary plan to turn starving illustrators into overpriced human vending machines.

Organisers initially believed charging $150 for the privilege of strap-on labor was the ultimate "field of encounter" for masochistic hipsters.

The briefcase-strapped-to-chest look was designed to evoke the gritty charm of a hotdog vendor, minus the actual talent or delicious processed meat.

Instead of tables, artists were encouraged to use their own spines as structural support for zines that nobody is ever going to read twice.

Management expressed total shock that the creative community rejected the once-in-a-lifetime chance to be treated like a fucking piece of literal IKEA equipment.

It remains unclear how artists will now signal their poverty without looking like an unlicensed tissue peddler.