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The Art of the Damned

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  The Art of the Damned The current gallery system functions as a modern dam built right at the headwaters of artistic creation. The headwaters are the raw, bubbling springs high in the mountains—wild, uncontainable, fed by countless small tributaries of individual vision, experimentation, failure, intuition, and obsession. This is where most serious art actually begins: in studios, bedrooms, sketchbooks, late-night arguments, personal crises, and private obsessions, long before any curator or collector ever hears a name. Once a handful of major galleries, institutions, auction houses, and their allied gatekeepers (collectors, critics, fair directors, residency programs) gain decisive influence over those headwaters—deciding which artists get early solo shows, which receive press, which enter the "right" conversations, which are anointed with blue-chip representation—they effectively place the dam. From that point forward: The flow of visibility, legitimacy, money, and audien...
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Hole in the Wall: The Tide Formed My Pool

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The Tide Formed My Pool When the tide wash in from billions of kilometers away. I found myself tossed within the mirth. And within this stirred up sentiment. In the rubbish and the forgotten. I became my new reality. The one of prosperity and r eal economic growth. As best described by the social commentators of the day. Despite the widening gap that separates the haves and have nots. And the separatists and the terrorists. And the defenders of old orders and wants of youth. And the arguments that form the threats of war My new found contentment places me. Within the data of acceptable trends. Within what is normal for my age. My gender. My genetical heritage. Then as forecasted, the tide seeped out. And so began the new realities and our new stories that had to be acquired. Just look at me, as I shine under the cyclical moonlight. As now in true fullness, I bloom and reflect calm beauty. In stillness and patience, I make little comment. I shingl...
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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time

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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time I wanted to fly to another planet, but I first built this swimming pool. My dreams just started getting away from me, and then I let them go. In the heat of the day, I plunge into my pool. My refreshing water. I own it. I work for it. When I'm tired of my thoughts I submerge into it. When I'm confused and in panic, I fall gently into it. I emerge feeling invigorated and comforted. Continuation seems so easy once and only after submerging in my cool clear water. My dreams to transform my life never eventuated. I knew it once, when  I was promised myself to achieve. I could aspire. You never fail when you attempt to chase. Somewhere I needed to reconcile between the obtainable haves and impossible wants. Have I succumbed to failed by fabricating my mediocrity prison of pleasure? Am I floating in falsehood Am I wallowing in water of hindrance? I built and tender to this my own 3-meter submersion of comfort. In my moment before...
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