Domenic Bahmann, I like your work.

i was recently made aware of an artist’s work through a friend of mine. she told me it made her think of me. she said that i do that. to put it clearly, i don’t, i lack the intelligence and finesse. anyways, i was intrigued by the work of Domenic Bahmann. his conceptual work makes me smile because of his ability to repurpose and portray preexisting concepts. i appreciate the value of an idea over its aesthetic, but i also know the value of the medium to which these ideas are presented. Domenic has the ability to marry both look and idea. i appreciate my friend for sharing this with me, so now, allow me to share it with you.

Speaking to self vanity.

i could write, or more correctly, being this the mode of this website, type continuously. but what would i speak of? what we all speak, words. i would arrange them in a way that makes sense to me and just do that. yes, there are tips to garnering a greater readership, but that comes with time. i’m sure you can employ tricks and falsities, but that’s like weight lighting with steroids. surely, you get results, but they are not true. i would like to apologize to fellow followers, and any skimmers, i do not use such tactics. instead, i express myself using my lack of wit and intelligence as a mode of catharsis, because i am vain. hey, at least i’m attempting to be honest with this virtuality, but more importantly, myself.

Believing emptiness taught.

excuse me,
let’s make this easier,
more convenient.
let’s remove life,
and substitute it
with the automated.
heck, i’m just a response.
the science of
who, what, where, why and when
of me is public domain.
this causes that,
so what am I?
as far as i know,
i’m a disposable response
whose weight
is less than
what is capable.
that’s good right?
to make a profit,
the baseline must be
less than that of proposed.
i express a constructed distress,
one of which seems new.
it may be new to me,
but to those will experience
call bullshit.
excuse my inexperience,
but i didn’t know someone
was orchestrating this whole ordeal.
why bother?
to me, it seems juvenile
and malicious.
we fight amongst ourselves
knowing, upon personal reflection,
this all to be meaningless.
i complain at what i grasp at
because it’s something
that is not there.
how i continuously lead myself
to believe in what’s not there.