Artists' statement

In the name of everything uncertain, thou shall be certain 'bout: dance my son. Dance and follow
the poppy's and crawl and dance at the same time. Let your fingers feel the wet mud, the grains of
sand. And jump and jump and jump untill the puddle has deepened a little. My son, watch thouself
in the dark water. Who is it you see? Stare at yourself and in the puddles inside your irises. What do
those puddles show? Exactly. None.
But then, stardust. Thou can see everything inside the nothing for the nothing is everything. It ís the
soil you felt, it ís mothers warm hands, it ís the bread, the paint, the dead, the cloverfields, the hot
hay walm, the sobbing wet snow in april and shaking of hips, crispy crisps and yes, stinky dicks.
Sing the song, it doesn't matter which if you but believe it. Sing for everyone to hear the story. The
story of everything and the story of beauty. Preach that you believe. Let them hear the love we
breathe. Preach for life.
And I preach for you to trust and believe but also for you to embrace the mud. Lift the pavement in
the marketplace, throw in water from the nearest well. Walk in it barefeet. Trow it at bypassers.
Make a tower out of the pavement and go sit on top till the cops arrive. Tell them you paid for all
that pavement in taxes and that you didn't destroy anything and therefor can't be sued for
vandalism. Thank them and walk away.
I got a little lost there and for me, this boy that is oh so bloody rational and believes in mother
science, maybe more then mother earth, that might be a good thing. Let's turn on the Frank Ocean
record 'Blonde' and lose ourselfs for a bit(put on 'Nights').
Thank you, everyone.

Drawings