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…like my tortured soul…

Thesis #1: part of the experience of being an Artist (do not capital “a”) is not being understood.
Thesis #2: part of the experience of being a teenager is not being understood.

If these two states are additive, then a high school artist would be completely unintelligible. If, however, we’re in the “two wrongs make a right” and “two rights make a left” school of thought, then high school art would tend to be completely transparent. I really think this time around that’s more the case.

Now please put on some Depeche Mode (what, too dated?), a black tee shirt, and don’t speak to your parents for three months, or you just won’t be in the right headspace to appreciate this.

7-19-11GW2222Sadguy1

Not only do you not understand me, the trees, also, do not understand me. Behold, I turn my back on nature. Pleasant rolling hills with a small creek, and lofty pines, I deny you. You will not intrude on my endless solitude. In fact, just to nail down my outsider status, I have coated myself thoroughly in RustOleum brand black board paint. Once you have used me, please erase your work so that I can be utterly, utterly empty for my next user.

7-19-11GW2222Sadguy2

Woe.

Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin

November 7, 2011   TV's Jacob
Uncategorized bad art

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