The work speaks and thus silences the artist’s voice. There is only solidarity in silence it seems.

The work sits in a blank space at one with itself, a genius dropping from the intuitive hand linked to an unconscious mind. It needs no introduction nor development. It does not embody anything other than its beauty. It has no relevance outside this space.

The artist who has defecated is understandably angsty. Why should I have to explain my shit?

Well…

You must compete to win in this world. An artist statement is a positive promotional tool, necessarily affected. Your career will go nowhere without your personal identity yarn. One needs ones neo-liberal soundbites, others seek to neatly place your droppings within a marketplace, you must help them consume your shit.

A manifesto on the other hand is a declaration which won’t get you anywhere, it contains pointless unmarketable things such as principles, values, ideals, politics.

Criticality and complexity are not realistic in this climate.