stuffhipstershate: Traditional Art Peggy: So I hear you have a show next week. Marco: Yeah, it’s gonna be pretty rad. I got a fucking street vendor to cater. Gonna be completely epic. Halal food all the way, baby. Peggy: Awesome. Are you going to show off those oils you painted last year? The ones of the crying Jesus clowns? Marco: No, man. I can’t get into oil anymore. I felt way too constrained by the brushstrokes. I mean, perspective and all that shit is so fucking limiting. I felt like I was trapped in a freaking box with no airholes punched in it. Totally wasting the fuck away. Peggy: Oh, I get it. So is it sculptures then? I totally dug that series you did based on all your friend’s faces mid-orgasm. Marco: Sculpture. Merely reproducing the three dimensions of a blank, flat reality in clay. Playing at being God like a child mucking about with Play-Doh. Really, Pegs, I expected a little more mindfulness from someone who creates the soul-searing electro-synth beats that you do. Peggy: Jesus, Marco, then what are you showing? Marco: Well, few people know this, but as a child I had few friends. I spent much of my days in quiet isolation with my Etch-A-Sketch, rendering portraits of the companions of my imagination. Peggy: So you’re going to do pictures on Etch-A-Sketchs, that’s pretty sweet, actually. Marco: Fuck, Peggy, weren’t you listening? Peggy: Huh? Marco: I said I drew portraits of my imaginary friends… Peggy: So the Etch-A-Sketchs will be… Marco: Blank. Peggy: … Dude, I miss the crying Jesus clowns. (Photo)

stuffhipstershate:

Traditional Art

Peggy: So I hear you have a show next week.

Marco: Yeah, it’s gonna be pretty rad. I got a fucking street vendor to cater. Gonna be completely epic. Halal food all the way, baby.

Peggy: Awesome. Are you going to show off those oils you painted last year? The ones of the crying Jesus clowns?

Marco: No, man. I can’t get into oil anymore. I felt way too constrained by the brushstrokes. I mean, perspective and all that shit is so fucking limiting. I felt like I was trapped in a freaking box with no airholes punched in it. Totally wasting the fuck away.

Peggy: Oh, I get it. So is it sculptures then? I totally dug that series you did based on all your friend’s faces mid-orgasm.

Marco: Sculpture. Merely reproducing the three dimensions of a blank, flat reality in clay. Playing at being God like a child mucking about with Play-Doh. Really, Pegs, I expected a little more mindfulness from someone who creates the soul-searing electro-synth beats that you do.

Peggy: Jesus, Marco, then what are you showing?

Marco: Well, few people know this, but as a child I had few friends. I spent much of my days in quiet isolation with my Etch-A-Sketch, rendering portraits of the companions of my imagination.

Peggy: So you’re going to do pictures on Etch-A-Sketchs, that’s pretty sweet, actually.

Marco: Fuck, Peggy, weren’t you listening?

Peggy: Huh?

Marco: I said I drew portraits of my imaginary friends…

Peggy: So the Etch-A-Sketchs will be…

Marco: Blank.

Peggy: … Dude, I miss the crying Jesus clowns.

(Photo)

Reblogged from stuffhipstershate with 72 notes / 13.02.10 / Permalink