PoP CuLtUrE
“Marching generation during boring times of opulence creativity is the salvation among global indifference one slogan one brand one item all made for few cents by suicide working class”
ThReE WoMeN
“three women walks on soft sand the pipes and their hands holding the time stillness the disappointing wind is the old world the old order the war was on guns versus books” acrylic, oil pastel, gel ink, graphite on paper ©2018
Mc TrUmP
“We need a man to dream and gamble, we need the bully to enrage ignorance and please illiterates we need the boss to slam doors and punch on the desk we need a warrior to keep the fight and keep the faith we need a clown to …
CoLlEcTiVe Is DeAd
Bergamot Station is a hub for contemporary art in Los Angeles. It’s a lovely district in which a number of galleries and design shops exist close like a community. The community sits next to the Metro Station in Santa Monica. It has survived gentrification and eventually demolition. Real estate developers are waiting – …
AnNoNuOvO MeRdAVeCcHiA
Pezzi di cotechino, lenticchie, caffe’, panettone, prosecco, -Oh! Oh! Dai che c’e’ il conto alla rovescia! – cheppalle e’ ancora presto – dieci, nove,otto,sette,sei…. pluff! Eiacula lo spumante All’ anno che verra’, a un anno migliore. Fanculo al passato. Si, certamente. Ormai si guarda all’ anno nuovo come se si guardasse Cicciolina e Moana …
C.H.I.N.A.
R . U . S . T .
SOMETIMES I NEED TO WASH AWAY MEMORIES SOMETIMES I NEED TO WASH AWAY THE PAST IT’S NOT DENIAL IT’S NOT FOOLISH AT ALL SOMETIMES THE PAST IT’S SIMILAR TO RUST IT MAY NOT LOOK COOL BUT IN ORDER TO REMOVE IT I’ D MAKE MYSELF THE TOOL FC
M.i.L.K.
Bowling in Tarzana
“I barely remember the last time I stepped into a bowling place. the shiny stylish special shoes to walk in, the floor that smells competition and bullshit Bowling is the ideal sport in an ideal place: the place for mr somebody or mr nobody, Bowling is the time frame between madness out there the intimate …
Kalifornia #2
Images are thoughts running on the highway eighty five miles per hour just can’t catch the lights but I still keep its flash, its soul. Emotions remained stuck between concrete and asphalt F.C.