Patiently undergoing what one would call a dreadful headache and another the most acute nausea, I’m drifting on favourite radio tunes and contemplating the past week’s bygones early on a Saturday morning…

It all started with a mind-game about art and its meaning… What comes to be art? When and where can one spot it, even superfluously and in short notice..? Does it have to be so imperative to seem overwhelming after all? Or it’s equally artful to feel it in your being and around you, even instantaneously..?

Without declaring confident to face the challenge of such a question, given the… nuclear war that my (evidently damaged!) brain cells have embarked on, I should say that this past week gave me a clear indication about art and its substance:

To get on a plane, cross an ocean, savor a city to the fullest possible and get back all within 4-5 days, what is to be considered if not… living art? How else would you describe the experience of total urbanization in a flux of 10 million people contradicted with the absolute sense of freedom the withering heights of a skyscraper’s top can offer, if not as a verification of art’s existence among us, at any given time..? What would you compare the possibility to enjoy some of the coolest days of your life so far, amidst a year so heavily burdened with duties, if not with the ultimate artistic touch your destiny can reserve for you once in a while..? And, what is more, how can you explain your persistence to talk and write and get excited about all these while you are practically sleepless for 8 days in a row, if not as a strike of life’s unbeatable artistic powers..?

Time flies as I’m trying to bring to light some elements of this concept of art in life and, yet, I get clear indications of its existence but they never seem to be enough… Writing this very text with the proper music in background; is it anything short of artistic? Enjoying, at the same time, your tongue’s flirting with some luring sips of a fine drink does this not simply add to the artistic strength of this moment..? Checking out on a friend only to find out that she’s dancing ‘La Macarena’ at 4:00 am while studying; who can argue that is not life in pop-art mood..?!

Pretty much I would go on with saying that after going forth and back on the globe within a week, seeing from a close-up the liveliest city of the world, getting back in a hypertension lasting for more than 72 consecutive hours and behaving (once again!) as a child is pure art… Take it as a fact that this judgment is brought out under the effect of the nausea and some carefully prepared alcoholic mixture but, still, have no doubts:

All that you experience is art..! And as with all abstract meanings, ‘art’ needs concretization. You got the tools to brighten up or… fuck up the final picture. Why wait then instead of going after the experience..?!

Artistically yours,

Agent Provocateur

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