real
Fear is now more fear than fear. It dissolves on the surface and is reborn in a little fart of shared benevolence...
Knowing how to have fun and laugh at everything will always remain the prerogative of the free individual. Taking care of one's buttocks is a work of public utility.
Whether it is scenic, textual, sound, visual or graphic, my art is exclusively sexual. It is rooted in a fascination with our bodies.
My pornography is the rejoicing space of my excitement and the voluptuous retreat of my tranquility. It is the sunny resort of my thoughts.
Behind the computers, the lyrics look absolute. What a beautiful anonymity not to face oneself!
Exchange is not a process that is satisfied with surface usability. Its chances of happening are as fragile as the desire that gives rise to it.
To decry sexual exhibition is to deny the reality of coitus, the most banal of our realities, in favour of an illusion of self, the mother of all violence.
While looking for the solution, I'm suffocating in the Web and the 2-dimensional page. I hope for a third one for a non-linear narrative art.
Ghost, I live here. We live here. Here, the Self-image is the basis of everything. The basis of everything in our social world. It is the foundation.
Artists, the real ones who would have something to say, hate the world and won't say anything to it, right? And it's much better that way, isn't it?
