I’m convinced the internet company here in Italy is run by The Joker. I made an offer of 100 euros to the first technician that comes to install the modem and they didn’t take it. Money doesn’t mean a thing to them and some men just want to watch the world burn. The struggle is finally over. I missed plaguing the internet constantly with my useless ramblings. How can I be a pain in the ass on a global scale? Serious first world problems happened here. All of you in North America are running on like 18g networks and over here we are using a dial up connection with pigeons integrated somehow.


Another piece of the Brut series is done. I’m noticing more the physical changes in the paintings. They’re aging. Most young artists would freak out, but I find it very poetic. Something made to stand the tests of time is also mortal. They’ve gone beyond being just paintings. They’re alive. Duchamp referred to his pieces as “things” and I understand why. Once they’re dry, I untack them from the wall to roll them up and it feels like I’m burying them. I give life and take it away. I say this next bit not because I’ve listened to Yeezus one too many times, but I feel like I’m a god. I’m giving life and watching the world I made unfold in front of me.


This is my first time back at details on a portrait. It felt normal when I became obsessed over the ¼ mm value change that could only be achieved with a single hair brush. Just like the old times in Montreal. Here is really where the magic happens. I feel relieved fixing up those little errors and as a result it gives more resemblance to the subject. It takes me back to my university days. Those tiny brush marks are home for me. Does this mean I can do detail work all day every day? Absolutely not. There’s a reason I left, but it doesn’t mean I won’t go back.