The Journey to the Center of Art

 

It all started Summer 2014, when Cloudy convinced me of his dream studying at thearts-academy. I was'nt a painter yet, but I was In! Sadly he died a few month later, christma. Shortly after, I was dying myself because of sudden mysterious-illness (The mystery was revealed some day. it's in the free book  in the eggy-movement room, great to read in between daylie life, since its all short storys telling one unbelieveable big story). I had to starve to survive, nobody helped me, everyone used my natural resulted weakness against me, i was labeled right away and became victim of ongoing and sadly everlasting crimes - labels remain and rule over an unprivileged for life, there is no way to prove reality even when proving absolute reality,

all credibility is revoked, including human rights, so even prove becomes "Ya-ya, the crazy guy claiming things again, we all know, ya-ya" and they simple ignore it, words, actual prove on paper, nobody cares about a crazy piece of shht they see.

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But despite all circumstances I still kept trying to get accapted at the Art-Acadamy, for Cloudy, to honor  his dreams.

Since in the beginning of my applications i wasnt a painter yet - never painted before because i couldnt afford it - I created for my first application something different, lowest budget, but highest creativity, something never been done in history of all art-applications. And something like that was never done before, because it required courage, which students applying never have, they just apply here and there with things within the cage for the mind, and yet i hear them all claim how they think out of the box and stuff like that - but to think out of the box, that means in reality "out of the  zone of identification for the eyes judging the application", which could never work, unless there is true magic involded.

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Now i leave the rest to be found out in the book i meantioned, which is the english version of what was supposed to be my 5th application (one is usually only allowed to apply 3 times/3 years), a book called "The Journey to the Center of Arts Academy". Yet this book, which is full of illustrations such as you can see in the Cloudy room or in the Souvenirs room, it was too good, meant too much to me to be handed to them, into hands of discriminators, people who watch other people die and make a selection for only privileged people living all in a small box, that dont need them to think out of, because its save, its theire own world the masses can never enter, the box is shaped like a castle and has power like one, yet in reality, its small! While we, the little people, we are gigantic.

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So: after I "failed" Cloudys dream to go to the arts acadamy, I still paradoxly achieved more than I ever could have in arts and in life - Look at VIMOSA!

And i know my best friend, if he could see this in person, all i created, he would be freaking out at all times and actually, i would be a star, because he was my biggest fan and was making sure i get the portion of attention i deserved, while he knew me before i wrote books, painted, created a gigantic lifeswork in every direction of art.

He was the best person i knew, a person truely caring and acting, not talking, he opened all doors for me he could and it was the only time when my life was truly easier, when things changed, things i would have never experienced, because i would have just stayed the person living outside of the box... He saw me, appreciated me, he was my biggest fan, as i was his.

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BESIDES ARTS ACADEMY DISCRIMINATION...

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During all these years trying to save my life and find integration, i evolved intensely to do things never meant for an unprivileged. I wrote book after book, my masterpieces, magic!

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By the time represented by the painting "Finished!" I had finished 6 books, but i was about to lose the roof over my head, had to beg on the streets - And she knew and simply watched me die.

She watched me grow older in poverty and sickness: We met when I was 27... 28.... 29... and we would have met with 30, if she would'nt have insisted that I stop trying to save my life at hers (publishing house), the only publisher ever at least talked to me, because of  pure luck the day I reached the beach, where she coincidentally walked along, suddenly so confused by seeing an up-standing fish for the first time in her life, that she ordered the men in black suits and sunglasses not to shoot me - "for now". 

But she shot anyways, with eyes and words: "I shouldnt be talking to such like you",  among "hahaha", "You'll never make it", "Not seeing you at any beach".

And yeah she was right, cause she knows her scene best, they all laughed about me as well, not ever reading any one of my manuscripts.

She took time to fly over 1 sentence of my very first works with her discriminating filter, that wouldnt allow a miracle of an up-standing fish to come true even when she witnessed it with her own eyes: she knew I am a legastenic reading-writing-handicaped, who barely made school because of that disability, and she didnt even consider to give it a chance, but reminded me in E-mails of her painful shot words the day at the beach.

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But I kept writing, kept evolving, kept using my potential against all odds in every direction, in absolutely every direction.

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I hope you enjoy the first place ever made by one of us, the losers - I was tortured, now the torture ends, also for you, this is the place that changes everything. There are no more castles, maybe they exist, but so small that nobody will look at ever again - we are done with you, the criminals, we made it, we are independed :)

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Please read/consider about donations (the donation-concept itself can change the world) if you want me to paint more paintings. At the moment in poverty i cant afford colours and canvas, its really expensive. I have a vision for new paintings, and i am waiting for years to get there. Every cent i had over for years i saved to buy a little action cam - thats how youtube vimosa came true.

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Thanks for reading, listening, sharing, caring, loving!

 

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Iso

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