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    How to Make £1Billion!

    Never before in my life time have I heard more fuss and talk about money, the economy, banking systems and banking products. Never. Not even in 2008, with the sh*t really hit the fan with the global financial crisis. It is endless. As usual, the news is full of doom and gloom, but this just feels different. The public are more knowledgeable and something is building. This 99 % movement is growing rapidly. We are the 99% after all. I will come onto how I am going to make £1Billion a bit later. Lets get some background out of the way first…  I was in Venice last week and was got…

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    SUR-FACES

    {EAV_BLOG_VER:50090af1186bb003} JAYBO´s sneak preview for the coming up show at the 19Karen contemporary art space in  Gold Coast /Australia.  “I am based on spray paint… I counter this with the intense work on surfaces to recreate the wall atmosphere, using wall plaster and bitumen. I add some abstract effect with acrylic, and sometimes use the dirt I find in my studio,” says Jaybo. To correspond with his no boundaries way of creating Jaybo vows to never stick to one technique in order to discover new edges and systems of paintings. He says that the relationship between using different media tends to be complementary. For his solo show, SUR FACES, Jaybo…

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    A Conversation with Asher Jay: Art for Conservation

    For the magnificent beasts that were treated poorly, housed in undesirable conditions and set loose only to embrace freedom defined by a trigger…. This print is available for sale on ART FOR CONSERVATION. Significant percentage of the sales of this print would go toward wildlife conservation programs. Death is permanent and while this loss cannot be offset I want to raise money for organizations working toward the conservation of wildlife. I hope the day comes when I create pieces that portray a more inclusive narrative…until then, I intend to do everything I can to conserve, comment and contribute. The latest news in contemporary and modern art in New York, London,…

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    Dans la Glace: Sarah Roth

    ‘Somewhere in the world I have an implacable enemy although I do not know his name. I do not know what he looks like either… The fact that I know absolutely nothing about him makes life intolerable, for I am obliged to look upon everybody with equal suspicion. There is literally not a soul whom I can trust. As the days go past I find that I am becoming more and more preoccupied with this wretched problem; indeed, it has become an obsession with me. Whenever I speak to anyone I catch myself scrutinizing him with secret attention, searching for some sign that would betray the traitor who is determined…

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    Summer (Part I)

    I open my backpack and inside are children’s colouring books and pencils, crayons and drawings from the fridge door. I search my son’s room and find the implements needed for a napalm bomb. A fuse leads to a wardrobe newly crafted into the stone wall. Within it I discover TNT and dynamite in a hoard larger than my body, stacked beneath a poster of wily the coyote, whose face has been laced with NAZI symbols and a Republican badge. I tear down the poster and behind is a window to a purple night. The stars glinted as if breathing beside a moon crescented on both sides without a centre. The…

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    Summer (Part II)

    His blood fell into the snow, sending tendrils skating out through the compacted flakes. His bare feet, bruised by the cold, shifted deeper into the thick powder. He eased the blade of his razor against the slight dash in his cheek, and a second droplet spread from the wound down the side the cutthroat tool, which he flicked off onto his toes. The water in his shaving bowl shivered around blocks of icy snow which he had not been able to melt. As he dipped the blade into the water to rinse it, a wisp of cruor stretched out into the silver light the water caught. Last night he had…

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    Summer (Part VI)

    Was death an afterthought, penciled in to the engrained lines on these branches of foliage? These bare buds from which once burst the colours of Saturn’s rings, now fringed with the nakedness of winter, have grown together as if seeking shelter in each other, as if they could mould together as one mass, and shield themselves from darkness. Darkness has grown a peculiar smell, the fragrance of lost remembrance. As if ruins have dried and are starting to flake and crumble. Buries itself within pores, folding inward seven times. Everything has a mouth and the world is speaking in tongues. Mountain lips shape vowel sounds as the ocean’s consonants echo…