That’s all, folks

I’m done making art.

One hurdle too many has been put in my path, and I’m too fucking tired to jump anymore.

You win, yuppies. The gentrification of bohemia has taken away the last refuge where I can do what I want on my own terms. And I’m just talking about the ability to smoke cigarettes in a fucking studio for chrissakes. It may sound childish, but if I can’t smoke I can’t work, and since anything resembling a studio space is considered a commercial space and therefore excludes such a behaviour, I’m done. Over and out.

I’ve fought enough battles and I’m just not up to yet another one, especially not over something this stupid.

Plus I’ve had work destroyed in our most recent exhibition, and at some point I guess I just have to listen to what the universe is apparently trying to tell me.

I’m not saying this to elicit sympathy or to garner encouragement.

I’m just sick and tired of pushing boulders up hills only to have them keep on rolling back on me.

What comes next ? Who knows, but a bottle of scotch sure looks good right now.

Thanks for looking.

That’s all folks.

Bill

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