In a society where new media monopolize the attention, painting must adapt to an environment where emotions are prohibited, and it becomes immortal. Google images is a new religion. The act of painting is purified. The intention is digitized. Painting loses its materiality and becomes an image with digitalized soul. The deluge was purification.
I consider my work as pictorial cannibalism. An image eating other images in order to create a new one. Without any emotion, like a zombie infection. A useless gesture, to give birth to another image, in a world already saturated with images. Some claimed the death of painting, they were right, maybe. But it resurrected like zombies, stronger and unstoppable.
I see my paintings as prostitutes. White cube is the new whorehouse, where we buy the touch, searching for a new Scream. Bukowski said that beauty is a burden that ugliness doesn’t know. I make up my prostitutes, in the superficiality of seduction. Focusing on appearances, we no longer discern the heart to which emotions belong. Acrylic is my lipstick.
In the end, my work is just a unicorn’s rainbow facial cumshot, wasting its time until the end of the world.