[Art] Revolt of the works in the studio: The Geography of Chaos.

Artist of chaos.

When the artworks decide on their own staging... Chronicle of a crisis in the studio.

I had carefully and tenderly placed them in their new frames, scrupulously obeying the instructions of my artistic director (son).

who demanded to see them on the walls.

It was then that "Sac Monsieur," stung in his misunderstood pride,

he blurted out insolently that "We don't care" had, in his opinion, a much more distinguished look.

I attempted an aesthetic mediation.

I explained, with all the gravity that an out-of-control situation demands, that everyone had a right to their own framework. But that the four "Shh"s alone embodied the equation of the Fixed-Letting Go.

That falling was not failing, but falling on oneself.

And that any collapse worthy of the name required a setting to match its scale.

The argument failed.

"Sac Monsieur" looked at me indignantly, while "The Toilet Fool" addressed me with an unusually insolent tongue. The "Bav-Art" group, united but utterly disorganized, decreed an immediate collective demonstration. Without prior notice, of course: the avant-garde doesn't bother with formalities.

Deprived of their banner for unknown technical reasons,

They chose a radical strategy: gravity.

They threw themselves to the ground.

That was the signal.

The paintings also joined the movement:

"Funambule" confessed to wanting to become a star, to abandon the wire for the stratosphere.

Meanwhile, a branch of the "Tree of Life" claimed root independence.

As for the book The Black Garden , it completely misunderstood the situation and believed,

with misplaced optimism, that it was a celebration.

Seized by a sudden scruple, or perhaps by an existential vertigo,

The leaders of the 4 "Shh" also decided to collapse.

Fluorescent canvases, always quick to exacerbate reality,

added a layer of luminescent chaos.

It was a true artistic big bang:

a disordered expansion of forms

of ego and pigments.

And then, nothing left to conquer.

Once on the ground, they had reached a form of absolute peace:

They couldn't sink any lower.

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I already have a feeling that my Art Director won't believe a word of this version.

He will probably prefer to invent another story, more credible or worse.

But I know.

They were equal on the ground.

Shh! It's art.

WdK — Literary and artistic architect.

Demolition builder.

Creative anthropomorphism.

Sandcastle Gallery : https://www.wendiedekandiss.com/art

Wendie de Kandiss, experimental literature and conceptual art.