a wild end to 2023.

the year saw great heights, from Lorna Mills on verse works, Unit London collaborating with many artists and curators alike, sabato and many contemporary digital artists were filled with joy after the course correction on sotheby's

the year saw great lows, day by day we saw a self imposed autocensorship, powered by threatening tweets of narcissistic sad people. harrasment tweets, miami parties, a willingly made sybil attack on cryptoart's core values.

anonymity has died. to be anonymous is to shoot yourself in the foot, as the artist-as-the cult leader meta has risen. silver tongues. slimy mouths agape with rotting networking speeches. flames of youth as a veil covering the ill-intents.

censorship resistance has been ripped off. validated tweets. if you are not a set of labels to compartmentalize in a serotonin syndromed, dopamine overdosed brain, go fuck right off. you must become a dadaist poem of a human.

permissionlessness has failed. kill a bidder at the stake because they give too many offers ask your owners to validate your ideas before posting them.

narcissism has been throned. write so many genuinely evil words, and get accepted to great heights. cry on the timelines, get recongition. a ripcord pulled with such force, nerve damage is now present in your left clavicula.

etsyable, safety has thrived. dare to make a challenging piece, fall on deaf ears. church lady as a model citizen. no boundaries left broken now. Human+RLHF, become a meatGPT made by openAI

groupthink has rained down to us from a great height. thought leaders, cult leaders, guardrails, all veiled as our next best saviour™ ever since the last best one.

moving averages as art is up 52932%. to make moving average art, simply copy two of your idols but transpose them so 2 to 3 people think it's something new. you can even call upon the invocations:

“good artists create, great artists steal
there is nothing new under the sun for you to heal
lesser key of the solomon, i call upon thee
to break no boundaries yet set me free”

curation as a hobby maximalism. the pole, the 3 names at every corner. every artist is everything when you can bend the words good enough. getting curbstomped in front of moma. teethless now. can't bite. yet somehow their lack of artistic knowledge, can be welcomed when you do some shots in nyc.

how to survive?

to be able to say go fuck yourself is divine

to shove your arm into the internals of brokenness is sacred

to work, study, research, schizoanalyze is godly

to distort and multiply matrices is heavensent.

to find the edges of things, and match them is to be pious

to cut through the bullshit with occam's razor is to be a crusader.

to mix

and to media

to 200gram paper

to wake the fuck up from a wagmi dream.

a wild end to 2023.

the year saw great heights, from Lorna Mills on verse works, Unit London collaborating with many artists and curators alike, sabato and many contemporary digital artists were filled with joy after the course correction on sotheby's

the year saw great lows, day by day we saw a self imposed autocensorship, powered by threatening tweets of narcissistic sad people. harrasment tweets, miami parties, a willingly made sybil attack on cryptoart's core values.

anonymity has died. to be anonymous is to shoot yourself in the foot, as the artist-as-the cult leader meta has risen. silver tongues. slimy mouths agape with rotting networking speeches. flames of youth as a veil covering the ill-intents.

censorship resistance has been ripped off. validated tweets. if you are not a set of labels to compartmentalize in a serotonin syndromed, dopamine overdosed brain, go fuck right off. you must become a dadaist poem of a human.

permissionlessness has failed. kill a bidder at the stake because they give too many offers ask your owners to validate your ideas before posting them.

narcissism has been throned. write so many genuinely evil words, and get accepted to great heights. cry on the timelines, get recongition. a ripcord pulled with such force, nerve damage is now present in your left clavicula.

etsyable, safety has thrived. dare to make a challenging piece, fall on deaf ears. church lady as a model citizen. no boundaries left broken now. Human+RLHF, become a meatGPT made by openAI

groupthink has rained down to us from a great height. thought leaders, cult leaders, guardrails, all veiled as our next best saviour™ ever since the last best one.

moving averages as art is up 52932%. to make moving average art, simply copy two of your idols but transpose them so 2 to 3 people think it's something new. you can even call upon the invocations:

“good artists create, great artists steal
there is nothing new under the sun for you to heal
lesser key of the solomon, i call upon thee
to break no boundaries yet set me free”

curation as a hobby maximalism. the pole, the 3 names at every corner. every artist is everything when you can bend the words good enough. getting curbstomped in front of moma. teethless now. can't bite. yet somehow their lack of artistic knowledge, can be welcomed when you do some shots in nyc.

how to survive?

to be able to say go fuck yourself is divine

to shove your arm into the internals of brokenness is sacred

to work, study, research, schizoanalyze is godly

to distort and multiply matrices is heavensent.

to find the edges of things, and match them is to be pious

to cut through the bullshit with occam's razor is to be a crusader.

to mix

and to media

to 200gram paper

to wake the fuck up from a wagmi dream.