STOP! in the name of love.

"I am a great enemy of written criticism, because I see these interpretations and these comparisons as an occasion to open a faucet of words. Every 50 years El Greco is revised and re-adapted more less to the taste of the day. It is the same with all works which survive, and this leads me to say that a work is made entirely by those who look at it or read it and make it survive through their acclamation or even their condemnation.
I refuse to think about the philosophical cliches renovated by each generation since Adam and Eve in all the corners of the planet I refuse to think of it and speak of it because I do not believe in language, which instead of expressing subconscious phenomena in reality creates thought by and after the word. (I willingly declare myself a nominalist, at least in the simplified form.)
All this twaddle, the existence of God, atheism, determinism, liberation, societies, death etc., are pieces of a chess game called language, and they are amusing only if one does not preoccupy oneself with 'winning or losing this game of chess.' As a good nominalist, I propose the word patautology, which, after frequent repetition, will creat the concept of what I am trying to explain in this letter by these execrable means: subject, verb, object, etc." Marcel Duchamp, 1956.

Marcel, we're all just trying to protect ourselves. You are no different.

We are no different. It isn't winning a game we are concerned with, however, Monsieur, it is playing a part. Put up your violet water and take on a new author. There is only one way for your works to stand up to the battering ram of language: (or two)
1. don't make art
2. don't care

I will choose the second choice. I will make my art and not be concerned with language in any respect. My medium is language and my subject, verb, object etc. is you. Enjoy it. I will not tear down too many bricks, you will still be standing.


"Just picture me rollin
Flossin a Benz on rims that isn't stolen
My dreams is censored, my hopes are gone
I'm like a fiend that finally sees when all the dope is gone
My nerves is wrecked, heart beatin and my hands is swollen
thinkin of the G's I'll be holdin, picture me rollin"