one of the hardest moments
for every artist
is when they realize
that they are doing
exactly the same things
as someone thirty years ago.

artists who survive this moment
will live on forever,
but unfortunately many die here.

the best way to be an artist
is to make money
doing something which is not art
so when you make art
you are not influenced by the buyer.

one trick to escape being a bitch
is to be ironic about it
which is what artists tried to do
in the last hundred years
but then all your art is just irony.

another trick
is to simply become
an extremely evasive addict
and reduce your consciousness
to just wanting money.

hundreds of thousands of years ago
someone made the first art
and everyone else loved it
and everyone started doing it
and it made everyone happy

fast forward to now
when there are thousands of institutional layers
in education, manufacturing, distribution or art
attracting millions of political climbers
and making everyone hate art
and torturing the few remaining artist

i am an unknown poet
because i never accepted
to be an ethnic artist.
i disagreed with every curator and gallerist
who wanted me to be an ethnic artist.

maybe before i die
curators and gallerists
can look beyond my DNA
and accept me as a human artist
and give me a voice.

the older i am
the more i feel the pressure
of this racist rejection
because my voice is silenced
while all i wanted was to be heard.

but do not worry
because i am very strong
and i will continue to be myself.

i think it is better
to wait until you can to speak the truth
than to rush and be a liar.

eventually
art will allow everyone
to communicate.
we are getting closer
to that moment.
in a few hundred years
people will accept that
art is not a limited asset
but an essential human
form of communication.
no person will be oppressed
for their lack of technical talent
and everyone will be celebrated
for who they are.
just a few hundred years more.
you will see.

ai qing
was a dissident poet
who had a son
ai weiwei
who is a dissident artist
who met
julian assange
who is a dissident journalist
who gifted ai weiwei
a treadmill

artists are leveled
by what happens
when they die:

level one – millions are sad.
level two – thousands are happy.
level three – hundreds are sad.
level four – no one cares.

theo wanted to be an artist
first he went to art school
then he quit the art school
then he lived in the mountains
then he bought the most expensive paint
then he refused to speak
then he fell in love
then he became sensitive
and then he finally became an artist
just before he died

he is an artist
who decided
to make art
in the real world,
which is kind of
the only real art.

to sell art to dentists, bankers, and lawyers
art needs to tie the room together
and artist must not embarrass them

i agreed with austin lee
to write a poem about him
in exchange for his portrait
of my family.

i am not sure
if it is a fair bargain
because the poem will be
only about him
and i will be
only one of the five people
in the portrait.

it would be fair
if my three kids and my girlfriend
would also write poems about him,
or if all of us would write together
a poem about him.

but life is not fair
and it will only get worst from now on
and we learn to roll with the punches
and one of the most important things in life are friends
and i hope austin lee will be my friend
just like rafael rozendaal is,
and wyne veen, and angelo plessas.
because compounding benefits of friendship
are transgenerational
and that is why i made this investment
in an austin lee poem
because that is the only thing i care about today
is my kids friendships in two thousand fifty.

i hope that you are realizing
the consequences.
you are losing
the only real artist
who looked on you
as a potential equal.
i was wrong doing so
and I will never do this mistake again.
enjoy the rest of your career.

the older i am
the more i like him
i guess when i am hundred years old
i will like him a lot