All Town’s Boys & Girls

All town’s boys & girls are sitting by the lake, pretending that the lake is a sea. Steve is a pirate, Martha is a fish.

“She is no ordinary fish, Steve, she is a mermaid, you silly, dummy, dumb dumb.”

Roger is a fisherman, he wants to catch Martha, but Martha resists because she knows that Chloe, who is damn fine queen of it all, is in love with him.

“She loves you, Roger, you silly, dummy, dumb dumb. You’re just trying to catch the wrong sea creature.”

Aaron is drunk like a cannon, Joy is happiness and the rest is just water between them. They are the happiest of all children, both of them are just sitting quietly on the shore, enjoying the beauty of the sea.

“I am drunk, Joy,” says Aaron.

“Why’s that?” Joy asks. “What did you drink?”

“I dunno, maybe I was drinking too much waves… with my eyes.”

“The waves… beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“And what do you see in them?” Joy asks and smiles facing the sunset.

“You. I see you in them, you silly, dummy, dumb dumb.”

They kiss like two kids usually do when they discover the right beating of their hearts. And hundreds of ants start rolling in their bellies while Roger is angry with Martha and Chloe is angry both with Roger and Martha. And for those angry kids, the lake is just a lake again. The sea is here just for Aaron and Joy

by Vyvyan Ost

 

 

Pistol Jack’s TV Head

Pistol Jack had a gun in his pocket while he was circling ’round the bank for the last couple of days. He needed money to buy a new life – the kind of life he saw many times on TV:

Celebrities, fast cars, hot chicks, Empire-State-tall glasses full of drinks, Cola-Cocain & neon glows in the center of the city, bourgeois parties, diamond eyes, golden teeth, velvet skin & smelly smelly cigars.

In the end, he really did rob the bank but was shot in the back of his head while he was running away. A picture for TV News: motionless body on dry ground, police sirens, money spilled from the bag, Pistol Jack’s brain spilled from his head, some old lady shocked & in tears, cold gun in the dirt. And – of course – one foolish soul, invisible, flying away.

The Coroner of this town – Steve Coldfriend – said that Pistol Jack was dying slowly anyway – that he had growing TeleVision tumor in his head.

by Vyvyan Ost

 

Through Vomiting and Penises to a More Valuable Art

Okay, honestly, for quite some time the art branch is no longer as exclusive as it was in times of Michelangelo or Frida Kahlo. I think that we all can agree on that. You remember Vincent Van Gogh, who had to be financed by his own brother so that he could get canvases and oil paints for his paintings? These things are now much more affordable, although, of course, Van Gogh is not exactly the best case because he had a pretty large consumption with his super unique style – yeah, that eared boy could control his temper a bit and he didn‘t have to squeeze such a large amount of color out of the tubes at every “snick” on the canvas. Anyway, that’s what he was, he was exceptional. What’s important is that now perhaps every second person can afford a canvas and paint colors. A person can paint a couple of pictures and he can call himself a painter. And when he doesn‘t know how to paint, he comes up with some additional value to make his creation more interesting than it actually is. I mean – just look at that lovely Millie Brown (do not confuse her with Millie „Eleven“ Brown from Stranger Things) – I’m not saying that the girl does not know how to paint, no, but let’s be honest, would she has the same attention if she did not vomit on a canvas? Yeah, exactly, sweet Miss Millie is practicing truly original painting technique – first she drinks a bottle of watery color, then stands above the canvas, puts her fingers in her throat and starts to vomit all over the canvas. Whatever Jackson Pollock runs in his studio with open canisters like a maniac, spilling various colors all over the place, well, he can try as hard as he can, but this Millie Brown’s creative approach is just totally different kind of punk!

SHOWstudio-Millie-Brown-LiveStudio02

You can say or vomit whatever you want, Millie Brown really can be a good painter, but, in my opinion, she is first of all a damn good businessman. Nowadays, when everybody who has a camera immediately becomes a photographer (especially now, when there is a pretty good camera in almost every cellphone – and what can I say, who doesn’t have a cellphone today?), it is just damn important to differentiate yourself from other eager beavers. You have to stand out. You have to glow. To vomit like a devil.

Millie Brown just figured it out. People just don’t care about simply beautiful paintings. People just don’t care about complicated art either. They are interested in art with a story. „Hey, look, it’s  the painting from that woman who vomits colors!“ People are interested in exotics. They like shocking stuff. Stuff that will make them say „OMG, realy?“ or „No way!“ or „That’s just so sick!“

CoAKTGaVUAA4Rf_

And you know who else figured it out? A guy who calls himself Pricasso. What is his superpower? Tim Patch a.k.a. Pricasso once told himself that he will not spend money on brushes and instead he’ll pain with his own sausage. And so here he is – a guy in pink costume who is soaking his nude Wiener Schnitzel in painter’s palette and is painting with it. Damn, that’s the spirit, right?

nintchdbpict000269249716

Look, it’s not bad, I can recognize people on some of those portraits he made. I’m just asking myself: would that guy be equally famous if he painted with normal brushed? If he didn’t dress like an idiot? I don’t think so. And that’s the point. The market (not only) with art is overwhelmed and requires artists to go in more aggressive and extreme ways to differentiate themselves from the mass in order to receive their desired attention. Let’s face it, art is no longer just about your skills, about being able to do something, to make something. Being the best in something may not be enough anymore. In fact, in some cases you don‘t even have to be average, you just have to be perverse or weird. I’m just thinking that if Van Gogh, Monet or Modigliani would be still alive, they‘ll probably run fast to Elon Musk into SpaceX, begging him to shoot them immediately to Mars.