"the worst i´ve done so far." - the artist itself. it is as bad as the save-for-web-gif-quality. save-for-web? it´s more a kick in the web´s interface.
PROCESS 1: i just could not leave this stickchen lying on the middle-stripe in front of my enormous ego. it is so beautiful, i mean so inspirational, but what isn´t, right? my great brain totally got wet all over and i got a running nose from all the ingenuity, so i had to sneeze so bad from it.
PROCESS 2: so I brought the stick home and placed it for a couple of hours in front of my greatness. i recieved the first kiss of my private goddess "idea" after 14 minutes and she told me to draw a heavy piece of shit next to it. but going with the first idea is low-level-self-mortification and so not my style. so i got pregnant with the stick for another 5,5 hours.
PROCESS 3: then after flipping and flopping the stick and putting it in all my angles, there was a tiny meatball of frustration blocking my creative throat of best choices, but i squeezed my buttcheeks to a maximum, i mean seriously, i broke my hip, that is the maximum i go for keeping up my exceptional output, so i just chewed with those big teeth of displayed glory that naughty little frustration-ball and nailed it: a piece of shit, but not so close to the stick, with a little distance and no smell-lines like in my stupid first idea.
PROCESS 4: to dramatize the relationship of the stick and the low odor shit i created more space inbetween the two objects by lifting the stick gently and moving it carefully to the left. it´s fantastic. i mean. look at the shadow of the, ah, it´s not in the picture, but there is an unbelievable shadow spreading a tremendous amount of positive energy about two inches from the stick to the left, adding a total new world of thoughts to the artworks depth. just imagine you could see it. maybe you can´t do that, because obviously you aren´t creative enough to understand deep art. that is so sad, but nevermind it is pretty common, but still so very very sad. it´s really worth trying at least. but my art is even something for sads like you, it´s more like the wrapping paper to the real artwork, that you seemingly can´t get, but opening a gift is fun, right? so for the intellect-admiring kiddos (you) i placed the little dirt-dots. you thought they just fell off randomly? no, thats the high-art of composition, to make it look random but every dot has its defined historical place. there´s a hillarious surprise if you connect those dots on your screen with a marker. i bro-mise.
a quick one. maybe because i was doing loads of sudoku challenges throughout the whole weekend with my brain buds, the great russian onliners, my so called head (i´d prefer holy grail) was fully charged with supercreative efficiency and ready to cock. so we have a great idea, true dad (see the turd?), but ideas are only the map, to be an outstanding creator of political art you need the skillset of an old longbearded all-in-masculine conqueror to mow over all doubts with great technical talent. look at the piece of shit. for example. or my photoshop, i mean digital art skills. i only had a4 paper for the background, too small for this brain-twerking perspective, so i needed to extend the paper digitally to the left to make the background a perfect whitish square. of course i had to add the shadows and texture of the setup. the perfect gradient is pretty tricky for not-franks, but guess what i am. eaasy.
now and then you just need a little luck. and a great brain of course. like here. the sunlight was so persuasive to do great art. i focussed for quite a while on the rubber and then i napped on the couch. and my mind has this crazy habit to send visions when i´m asleep, it´s amazing and it´s super rare. these visions are so vivid, they feel like my brain is walking through another dimension or the other side, so my sleeps are the portal to the unbareable garden of creativity. sometimes i have gatherings with long lost artist souls, like picasso and other great dead artists like von goch and all the other genius people. guess what. when i took that nap i saw picasso holding a huge rubber and von goch took a tiny dark dump underneath it. so when i woke up i had to finalize this picture just as the other side told me to. i have to be really fast, because these visions aren´t lasting so long in my far too stuffed brain. often i wake up in tears, feeling blessed having this power to connect with the old artfolks, who really cheer me up, when i am struggling and feel uncertain if i am arty enough and then they tell me that i am really good and my art is also really really good and very very valuable. and i feel this urge to tell everybody what they say about my art, that the real picasso thinks my art is superexciting and of course he (i mean common, it is that picasso from the books) knows what good art is, his judgement means so much to me. it feels great to do good art like picasso would do if he still was around or von goch only better, because i put their dated genuity into our zeitgeist. but they are happy and thankful that i take advices by night. yeah right, you don´t believe me. anyway they (the greatest artists from history so far) approved this meaningful picture, they said it´s "supergeil". their words.
i am so productive. it is not even monday but i made another great piece of art, well, ingenuity has it´s own timezone. the most important thing for me doing art is to make people realize "wow this works on so many levels". i´m never happy just to produce a linear wow to the observer, i am aiming a multilayered non-linearity in the thoughts of the people, my art actually needs a warning for people diagnosed with epilepsy, because it really gives your brain, if it is intellectual enough, quite a multiple thought-attack. so this picture for example, a simple mind might say: what is that? my answer is the usual: it´s art. great art. maybe not for you, but there is an 50% off ikea 200m from here, enjoy (your life). obviously art-lovers can see the struggle i had, filling this picture with those multi-layered deepness i mentioned earlier. the point is, i struggle a lot being an artist, and being exactly that (an artist) means to ask yourself inconvenient questions like "am i an artist" and just by asking yourself that, just being able to ask yourself a question like "am i great, a great artist" is a gamechanger. the ability itself to ask myself "am i a really great artist" is the first step of being one, if not even the tenth step. like an alcoholic realizing, yes i have a problem with alcohol, so i reach out for help. the realization of being sick, is the biggest step of getting healthy again. hard questioning my status of being a great artist makes me an artist. a great artist. and this picture proves that. i mean satellite finder, how provocative is that? little insight to the process, i wasn´t happy with the viewing angle of the satellite finder, so i had to hold it straight up and erased my wonderful art-creating hand. and then it came to me, from this angle it just looks boring like shit. so i drew a piece of shit in the style of the great machiavelli and the rest is that beautiful magic only art can do. oh louvre in france just called, they running out of fresh impulses. don´t you worry museums, i am on my way.
what a nightshift. i just couldn´t let go, i had this feeling of creating history the whole day but wasn´t happy with my art yet in the afternoon, so what should i have done, sleep? serioulsy? well, it´s like they say, you can sleep when you are famous (or did i just came up with that right now? whaaaaat? the? fuck? is arting on? crazynesssss). "you can sleep when you are famous" or satisfied and as an artist you can´t be satisfied ever, you always push yourself to higher performance, a better outcome, like chasing the dragon, you chase that one masterpiece. and that´s why i love berlin. everybody is chasing. it´s the best place for art in. the. world. it is so crazy creative. every corner you feel the energy, the vibe of something happening. something artful. living as an art-artist in berlin is like having an active account in the temple of high creative intensions. i love strolling down this big old streets filled with old and new cars. some are diesel, few are batterydriven, but they are all moving, just like my creative career. i get great inspiration when i enter the fleamarkets, like mauerpark, where i bought this muse-stone from a superinteresting health-artist. he said it is part of the foundation of the 16th capelle in milano, italy. i always wear it, taped like a watch to my creating hand and it gives me the higher power to create/digitalize/masturbate even better than really extraordinary. the great inspiration berlin offers, attracts a lot of different disciplines of the high arts what makes it impossible for a gal like me to limit myself to one art, i just learned to juggle for example with pottery i handcrafted on my own while taking a course at a manufaktur-artist. i am thankful that my parents bought me this appartment in berlin, that lazy bitch in the spree, letting me be who i am: that colorful dreadlock blowing the didge to the sound of the restless inner search for artfulness. living in prenzlauerberg, of course you feel the big rough troubles, the ups and downs berlin went through and being now the part of the current up is so very influential to my art. of course berlin has history, like war. and i don´t like war, never liked it, i don´t understand hate and sometimes i just stare at the beautiful stucco in my studio and wonder, wow, how much stucco is gone in this broken city due to bombs how much preciuos, priceless art from, lets say, faber kastell or reimbrand guache, how much is gone in colorful last flames because of war? how sad would it be if my art was bombed in a war and then i think, thank god i do digital art. if you purchase a nice digital artpiece of mine today, maybe with bitcoins and tomorrow war is back and destroys your digital pictureframe from rossmann with my great artpiece in it, i would send you the digital image again for half the price. just a recommendation to invest and be safe in the future when money is the fantasy it always was. you could buy this picture above showing that 16th capelle muse-stone i bought from that healing artist. i always wanted to include this stone in an artwork but i never really felt it, but last night i was so fired up, so i´ve put it on the backdrop and it sent me these mixed-signals, like flirting with an usb-c outlet holding a thunderbolt-2-cable and i realized it´s time for something new. and i am always interested in trying out new forms to express my artistic feelings and one in particular, the form of penis. and then it all made perfect sense to me, it all added up, especially when my dreartlock came out of the sudden crawling into the picture, expressing what misfit i am to the ordinary 9-9 office lifestyle and what possibilities you have fashionwise in berlin. i always wanted to include my artist-hair somehow and now the lock just fell into the corner when i was nodding my head shouting YES to the artuniverse, because i was so happy about the penis and then the lock showed up to maximize my artgasm, so sometimes it´s just coincidence that pushes the limits of the displayable. the lock, the stone, the penis, all the confusion is gone, everything is in place. a penis is such a damn fresh impulse and answer to a lot of questions of this time. because great art is always responding to current social and political events and i am very aware of things happening today, because i follow the news, so i am doing good great art combining the high power of my intellect with scrolling zeitonline in my altbau-studio in the wedding (where berlin is still bowie-berlinesk), and fun fact, when i was a teacher at artschool, first lesson i gave my students was „install the tagesschau app now“ and the rest is a history, is a penis, is a just great.
just got back from the hospital. yes, well. living an artistlife means living and moving mentally in a transcendence sphere of universal perfection detached from the terrestrial body, but now and than the body, this ever trivial anchor to earthstuff, pauses your creative drive. the misery of today, let´s say, it all started when i was born and now out of the sudden my parents said „we´ve had it with your art trial, time to get a life now, you are 40, earn your own money, pay rent“. those douches simply don´t get it. as an artist, of course you need to suffer. from something. it´s good to be broke and drink cheap wine for your gallery vitae, all-in for your art, but now they force me to pay rent, although they bought the appartment, so they should pay off the loan and let me create. it´s like that bodything, it is terrestrial constrains i really don´t have the time to deal with as the hardworking dedicated artist that i am. so my „loving“ parents negate their son´s destiny by making me pay for stuff that isn´t even mine, it´s their walls, and i should pay for it? but that´s where berlin reaches out for me with it´s artsaving hand, again. i just rent out one small room to a swedish guy and he pays twice as much as i need to give my parents and doesn´t even care, since it´s berlin, it´s his dream too, his new york of the 80ies and it feels still cheap to him. i don´t know what he does, i don´t care, but he seems to be a music lover. he has tons of records (two banana boxes!) and a record player. he picked up, that i only listen to motor fm radio station (so cool, so indie, so berlin in the zeros) streaming on the internet all day to be in click with the trending younger youth, and he asked if i like music musicwise. i think he asked that. his english isn´t that good, he uses strange words, impossible to follow and than the accent. anyway, the conversation ended up that he built up his recordplayer in my room and put on" the rolling stones - greatest hits“. i was blown away. i always thought i was more a beatles guy, but that rolling stones, man*wo, they are something. so raw and pure. and they are all still alive, naturally they are the better beatles, i guess, if they can survive that long from their music. its only the nosebeatle and that sly-eyed yesterday guy left, i mean, famous for writing a song for yesterday, how dated and lame is that. my opinion: he should have written something like futureday, just an idea. anyway. so my roomie left me in my studio and i kept playing this one song. i can´t get no, no no no. yeah yeah yeah. so simple. so raw. so pure. it made me so angry. the fight with my parents, the anger between our generations, this song says it all, now i wanted to use this energy, these heavy emotions needed to be discharged into an massive artwork. and i realized, it is all in me, i don´t need no fucking stick, no rubber, no satellite finder to create my art. the purest way to express myself is to just tell what i feel without distracting objects. and talking about outside objects, isn´t ink or acryl an outer object too? to have the purest and truthfullest artwork shouldn´t it be my own blood? and then i rememberd how i pierced myself to be part of the punk-subculture, so i can really take physical pain, and it´s pain, it´s the suffering of an artist, that makes his*er art great and a reliable source for success. than it striked me, if piercing yourself is symbol of subculture, isn´t circumcising my penis a symbol of hovering above all human cultures, where the real art is happening? it allows anything, it doesn´t judge, it cheers all the good and the bad, art just applauses new circumstances in which the world is entangling constantly. so i thought, wow, rolling stones, what new levels in art are you enabling in me for this world. i turned up the volume, opened a box of sangria, looked at the canvas, barked like a dog, drank that sangria, kept barking (art knows why?), grabbed a nail clipper, cut my forskin, kept howling to the white canvasque moon, in me the urge to visualize this new perfect emotion of art and pain and a clear mind in the deep belief of creating something raw and unique. a shitpenis. blood on forskinvas. brilliant. thats me. thats my art. i´ve named this artwork „nö nö nö“, but called an ambulance right after finishig it. totally worth it. got to sleep now. what a day.
when i woke up this morning i couldn´t get something off my mind. when the paramedics arrived at my house last night, they refused to bring me to the hospital, because the situation wasn´t that fatal as i mentioned on the emergency call (bleeding to death, artist in danger, penis in pieces, shit, hurrry). but they changed their mind after i started vomitting in their first aid kit and maybe exaggerated the drama a bit by restarting to bark and being kinda certifiable. i was so disappointed how relaxed they reacted to me being a bleeding great art figure in the middle of a creation process and now they don´t even show the respect of taking me and my wounds to the hospital. in the hospital the alcohol test showed 0,8 pro mille(!) and the doctor said, "well this is not another onion ring cut, it is only a small scratch in your forskin, do you have a peanut or so in your urethra“, i said "no, why?“, he said „well, then my job here is done“, put a plaster on my köfte and went off the scene. that made me start thinking. all that great emotions, all that excitement i feel with doing my art, all this greatness i went through yesterday and my life before, my whole art-manifest is just a scratch underneath a „paw patrol“ plaster? if i can´t circumcise myself properly, am i comitted enough to do great art? maybe i am not that much of an great artist after all. than i took a closer look at my recent artworks and sketchbooks and thought, maybe it is all just shit. and a penis. maybe i am full of shit. and penis. in the end i might just be a pipi-kacka-illustratorguy trying to make it, it is a job. everybody is just a job. the priest, the second hand store lady, the politicians, all the artists are just doing a job to get through life as chubby as possible. if you succeed somehow by being a pretentious art prick or soccerplayer, good for you. who am i to judge. i also found my lower place in this society and i am grateful being able to do commissioned work to fill my fridge, because i am also hungry. not for art. i like to eat pizza, love a good handcrafted falafel, not these ready-made patties, but dm has a really good falafel mixture. i think it is organic. yeah, i like to eat that. now. with my friends. they like to eat too. so i need money to to do life, until i die. i obviously wasn´t shat upon this world to do art to maybe remain something after i die and yes, my drawings, my cultural legacy and myself is full of shit, but you know what? i like it. it´s fun, it isn´t art and most of all it isn´t ingenious. always remember: if you feel like a great artist that creates brilliant art, it is your mother that created you. so who is the creative genius in the first place? every artist is just a genetic rip off, making something dead and waiting for an acknowledging audience to resurrect in their thoughts. but your mother has the power to decide if you even exist to create and still is so very humble about it. so it isn´t hen or egg. it is always mother. the past or the future it only can be female. thank god aka. YOU.
because i wanted to get over it i made a shitty zine out of the very shitty content. go to my buttique and add me an email. now isn´t that something? little hint: it is something. for you or your artist friend, but mostly for mothers.
deep art on flat paper.
so much shit. finally...
...something to earth my ego.
so not "supergeil" but still out there. all the shit from the internet slowly gets physical. what a win win for none none.