HIMALAYANPLEINAIRSOULPOETRY

GODSDOGSTOWERINGHOMERUN

I woke up and thought in a silent sunpatch. The feeling when ur in a palatial uptown church on dusty weekday afternoon and you watch slow fragments float through streams of pure light. The wind blows your hair in a way you dont like. Trying to codify thoughts about art and life and what the fuck I am doing and why I impose so much haste on myself. Conflation of trend and ability. I refuse this. I refuse alot of things. Sometimes I regret refusing things. A controlled vacuum that buffers us from ambient changes while we string ideas together. Our lives have so many breaks and interruptions and pauses that everything we think is effected and everything we make is effected. To this day I dont understand the application of effect vs. affect. I read their respective definitions on dictionary.com every time I use them and still. We make sculptures and paintings or photoshop something in bursts of five minutes and then pause to smoke a camel and check our motorolas. We had headphones on to disappear into the work but the impartiality of the world was more in our face than ever and our rhythm was broken by beeps and notices we dont know what the overall impact of this will be but we know that older people do not appreciate it or understand it so we clam off to them and everything they do and think and say to us and dig deeper into our transparency and convince ourselves of something that we dont know.

I want art to create a place a place full of ideas and non ideas a place full of things and non things and sounds and silences I want art to create a place and I want to go inside that place and think about art and think about non art and not think paintings are art sculptures are art ideas are art fashion is art music is art those thrown away objects you scuffle past on the street are art every picture you take with your cracked phone is art that feeling you get when you see something perfect and cant photograph it is art art is art art is not art too riding your bicycle in the evening is art writing about art is art when you wake up its art. 

I moved to Mexico to have space to breathe and develop and enjoy life at the pace I wanted to. It feels more and more inevitable that the only way to get to the next level as an artist is to close off more. 

I am making alot of changes to my practice. Or intending to. Changing the way I use language and hopefully the way I present myself. I am begging for honesty for and from myself. To be exposed. Not in the sense of limelight and transparency but in the way of determining and revealing frailty. I think there is something very valuable in that. Something beautiful. A rigorous effort. Something I want to be a part of. 

Yesterday I was the subject of a photoshoot and I looked sweaty and masculine and handsome and then I realized who the fuck cares. 

We are all equally articulate so why prefer one mind over the other? Well some things sing more than others. I love Monet but he only had one note. A perfect note. A William Basinsky note. I want to make multiple notes. I want to make multiple notes. 

A room with me talking. 

WE DONT CELEBRATE MANY PEOPLE WHILE THEY ARE ALIVE


SILENTSUNPATCHMULTIPLENOTE

The whole world is full and loud and at least we have the freedom to organize that fullness and loudness into a beautiful place

AT LEAST YOU FELT SOMETHING

like so many rambling questions 2 ask so lets just ask dem

QUESTIONS ABOUT POST NET PAINTING

Art is very confusing at this point in history thus we r confused and we have no way to judge or distinguish anymore but we do know whats weird and whats not weird and whats basic there is no good r bad and we have a lateral line that detects when the idea has been pushed down a stairwell and stretched over a clothing line and tenderized into a flat pulp. For me this thing is part of a bigger future-thing; a diorama where we go and where controlled chaos is very beautiful.

SONCHOPTOUT4RAGGAESPACE

Look at that light come through the trees
Thats like european light!
A trans critique of oxygen
Sonic Youth Hey Joni Reggaeton airplane takeoffs and gunclaps and horns
The Top Gun theme song Blasting through the darkest orifice of the neighborhood taco shop
Hold your phone and Whatsapp it to my friend from New York
An art studio inside a hyperbaric chamber inside a shipping crate to reverse the effects
Middle distance runners
The way people live
Beauty in chaos
Mexican Winnie from The Wonder Years walking down Orizaba
What happens If instead of taking away we keep adding and adding elements
Does it topple
Does it reach terminal velocity
That house was an Anselm Kiefer sculpture
That house was an Iguana Tank
In Egypt
And they read the most boring fucking poems of my life 
I refused indignant 
To allow my life to be as flat and brackish as a well hemmed 
Connecticut
Cinder block valleys
That song that Kanye sampled on Radio Ibero
Wutup with all the ants
Wutup with Ideas
Exponential Echo
The Autotune glistened glistening beadworked gold gilded gold leafed sunset burnoff crochetted sky woven ocean 
A rounded room with bursting yellow and violet abstract lily pads
A full space 
Handsome and beautiful lounging draped in monochrome 
Rick Owens consuming opiates
A matte black 7 inch long line spray painted over a transparent magazine wrapper bunched on the worn industrial grey enameled concrete floor
U must be my lucky star
A rooftop garden tramped with shit
A feril bird hound
A whore on Calzada de Tlalpan fishes open the passenger door of a Mercury Mountaineer and dives in

CIRCULARFRENCHEXPRESSIONISM

GUEST STARRING DOROTHEE DUPUIS
RECORDED 1 DAY PRIOR 2 THE 2 SOON DEMISE OF HIS MAJESTY DJ RASHAD xRIPx

I dont want to be x artist i just want to get paid like x artist have a platform like x artist every platform is a business every business is a platform i learned english on youporn my friend said outfits: a mission statement hawaiian shirts and yellow pants sorry ur message was lost in ur narrative and the closer i am to luxemburg the better. artists are actors and curators are diretors and artists are pop stars and curators are producers and collectors are executive producers jaja and gallerists are promoters and artists are athletes and the younger the better and they burn out fast n hard and they are a tiny mechanism that generates a fat glib lifestyle for some rich man and i just want my kids to go to a nice school and see europe before they are 28 and be spoiled and get an old car for their 16th birthday not a bmw or anything but still american dream type shit i am on a slow moving train in the french countryside we are rolling by thin deciduous forests and i cannot stop thinking about war and men running through the trees
i dont care about the content i do not give a flying fuck about the content everything flattens out to me on the screen im just looking at colors and shapes and spatial relationships i didnt grow up reading barthes i grew up playing tetris on a gameboy
every photographable internet propagated finally pixelated screen consumed art gesture ends up flattening out the mediums at play as its being transmitted and instead of delivering its intended irl spatial-intellectual principles, only really ends up dealing with traditional elements of 2d visual organization that we see historically established an contemporarily maintained by painting but somehow painting is out of vogue but somehow what you are making ends up closer to a painting than what you thought it was as you walked around it in 3d realspace and maybe if you were to quit bullshitting you would have just made a painting but youve found a way to be cynical enough to realize the pancaking fate of your risque art gesture thus protecting your ego from making paintings meanwhile at the same time being fully aware that people deal with your work as documented and disseminated like they do a painting that people deal with all internet art flattened out and removed from its iconic historicity, time, and dimensional space, and only deal with elements of design like people deal with paintings and therefore you are essentially making paintings that are masquerading as not paintings and thus somehow your market potential and ego are both preserved and mutually dependant and you can feel cool about yourself because people who make paintings right now have not claimed that stake. but remember that post net art suggests that there is no difference between irl and url and post net should never try to assert that testimony, instead it should assert the shifting growing distinction of a real world informed by url instead of the former inverse digital world informed by the real physical world. our experience in nature is now informed and imbued by our experience online, and increasingly not the other way around. and say what you will. and it is looping and looping. if you approach emerging art practices through this lense, it will turn out that most artists whose discourse and research and social interactions are rooted online are post net artists, not just kids who make nihilistic gifs and jpegs, but that a basketweaver in oaxaca with an internet connection could potentially be viewing their practice through these goggles as well, and that, to me, is the most interesting affect or outcome of these post net discussions, and locally how these growing theories effect the practice of quote unquote analog artists such as painters
my email address got hacked and my new password is a conceptual art gesture

LEZARXDORODRANKSMOKEDUBRIP

chopped out gutted out inspired by MTV cribs u kno

ANDREWBIRKINTERVIEW

IDEAS WITHOUT THE BAGGAGE OF MATERIALITY AKA 
IDEAS WITHOUT THE BAGGAGE OF MARKET LIQUIDITY 

IF I AM MORE HONEST THAN YOU

I am absolutely NOT a musician

Think of these pieces as trying to draw lines without a ruler 

*4 Museums*

CIRCULARFRENCHEXPRESSIONISM

ARTICULATION MURAL

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