2010 Retrospective - Cutting Edge

Transcript:

Art… is pain. Art is suffering. The great artists; van Gogh, Kahlo, Hemingway, countless others; they all knew this. They starved, they hurt, they suffered. They knew privation, poverty, pain. Tortured souls, each and every one of them, suffering for their art. Every great work was conceived in a world of hurt and born through blood and tears. How can one find the inspiration and passion for such a work, if not in the fiery house of pain? For love? I think not. In love all energy is focused without, on the object of love. There is none of the conflict, the mind feeding on its own shortcomings in an endless vicious loop to fuel such an undertaking. Unless it is not returned. Then, then it can be found in love, for what is unrequited love, if not pain? Something so sweet that is always out of reach. Yes, you can find art in love, provided it has soured into pain.

In this age of healthcare and government assistance, what modern masterpieces have arisen? The only ones who feel the necessary pain have not the means t bring it into the world, and those with the means have not the motivation. So none of this world’s perfect suffering can be brought into the world as something all can enjoy. All open-minded enough to see true beauty, that is. Not the shallow contrivances of those we in these times deem as ‘attractive’. False people, creatures built from clichés, chemicals and plastic. I was like all the rest of them, I laughed at every banal joke that society fed me, worked every day in a place I hated, earned money to fuel a boring relationship with a girl who stood out not at all. I saw the world through the filtered windows of my television and computer. And when this, all this was taken from me, I felt the same insipid depression as so many others. Until I discovered my pain, my beauty, my art.

I’m sharper than other artists. Even the greats. More cutting edge. My art is bold, confronting but graceful. Bold, but delicate. Intricate. I keep my skills finely honed, and soon the world shall see my masterpiece, my terribly beauty. I write this, so that the world may understand it. I am not arrogant to say that I am a great artist, it is a mere statement of fact. I have given myself utterly to my heart, body and soul. It will be brought into the world through my sweat and blood. I care not for money, for I shall not live to enjoy it. I shall die for my masterpiece, my gift to the world. That it will exist is enough for me, though it will likely not last long, in its original state. Nature’s endless degradations will make sure of that. But it will be preserved forever, in memory and the viral spread of the digital world. Like the great artists, I sacrifice myself for my art. The world will know me. It must.

I don’t pretend that everyone will accept my gift. It will be to… shocking, too ‘disturbing’ for that. But it will spread, and those who can see through he thin veneer of human ‘respectability’, into the true heart of human nature, they will understand.

I have only one work, one masterpiece that I will give to the world. It is my message. Some of you are stupid, I know. Else you are close-minded or weak of stomach. So I will explain.

To the ‘artists’: You are pathetic! Sniveling foolish cretins! You are nothing before one such as me. Your ‘sacrifices’ pale in the face of true artists’ pain, and to call your insipid medium art is most heinous mockery. I spit on you, all of you weak of spirit and heart.

To society: Wake up! Open your eyes to the world around you. Stop bemoaning your pity inconveniences and embrace the true pain that this world has to offer. Embrace true passion. Dull, all of you, lackluster and gray. I spit on all of you, ignorant dullards.

And finally, to the Police, I say this. What you see before you is the result of no crime. No-one was murdered, or tortured. There is nothing here but the expression of purest suffering, my most beautiful art. Stand back, and you will see. This is my masterpiece, the one gift that has drained my life away. My bittersweet tears flow from this exquisite torment. I revel in each crimson curve, every sinuous tracery, every stroke on that most perfect canvas.

Myself.

Transcript ends.

Report: Vatican City Metropolitan Police Department                    -12-06-2002-

Above letter found in home of deceased. DNA profiling shows no person but deceased was present in the apartment, either at time of death or for a period approximately 4 months before.

Based on fingerprint and autopsy data, the damage to the body of the deceased was self inflicted.

14-35

Based on anonymous tip 2 days prior, squad car sent to investigate home of deceased.

14-44

Officers found apartment door unlocked, and reported ‘absolute silence’ from the interior.

14-45

Apartment was found to have a single room. Body of deceased was immediately noticed as being chained to the ceiling and heavily mutilated. Officers reported that the only other object in the room was a steel table, upon which were 7 knives, 3 scalpels and the above letter.

15-26

Careful examination revealed complex geometric patterns inherent to the cuts and lacerations on the body of the diseased, and the resulting bloodflow on body and floor. Posthumous psychological profiling underway,

Subject has been deemed ‘too disturbing’. Information regarding the subject is considered classified, and will not be released to the press.