Art is the most important part of my life and, dare I say, the entire existence of the world and everyone in it. There is nothing more important than the freedom of an artist to create under all circumstances, no matter what the cost. So let me ask: how can you say I’m not a creative genius when I am absurdly abusive to all the people around me?
The math is pretty simple. The more I feel entitled to be a piece of shit to literally everyone, the better my art must be.
If there is one thing I know about myself, it’s that I have a voice in me that must speak out in poetic words or daring new forms of painting or whatever seems fun and cool at that moment. For that voice to find its fullest form, I must be allowed allow to exhibit toxic behavior and to act on any impulse at any time, regardless of how damaging it may be to anyone unfortunate enough to get close to me.
Creators like myself must have unlimited freedom to manifest art. Specifically, the unlimited freedom to be a complete dumpster fire of a human who takes it out on whoever is closest, most emotionally vulnerable, or does not have the legal resources of my dad’s law firm to successfully battle me in court when I allegedly steal their car. Fucking philistines.
You know who was also abusive to the people around them? Picasso. Salvador Dali. My dad. Most of those people were awe-inspiring artists and it is solely due to the fuckery they committed. If anyone had told them “stop” or “please God, go to therapy,” we wouldn’t have Cubism or whatever.