I’ve always been perplexed as to why is it that in some places people would steal from each other’s and others work, style, and ideas like it’s a normal thing, just like breathing. And then I lightened up, it got to me; these places will do shit like that all day long without giving it a second thought. A learned behavior that has become a second nature. It is because these communities/societies whatever you want to call these-punks-like to live the poser/wannabe outlaws lifestyle where nobody and nothing else matters but themselves. They like to spit and smear on anything and everything they touch or come into contact by and wrap up with brat smirks while representing nothing less, nor short than their despicable, ugly, and worthless “individual” faces-hide your tattoos.
Recent Posts: Amine Batbouti
Isn’t interesting how in this painting my cat’s fur got on the cloth and in the paint and dried all over my canvas and now I’m stuck doing with the texture which may keep my critics only guessing where do I get my inspirations from; I don’t know, ask life.
“Let me nourish my ego,” and then what.
“Being helped, sponsered, and/or supported in the art world is a childish and an immature concept that needs to end,” basically you want us dead—say goodbye to your reputation.
Stranger: Is this real leather. Me: You like it. It’s made of genuine human skin.
Stranger: Wanna see your paintings. Me: Wanna sponser me.
“Let me put on these gloves while I paint because Heaven forbid that I’m discovered as a day job painter; in any case, I hope they would be proud of me now because that’s the closest I get from looking like a real doctor.”
Tomorrow is never a guarantee, so I like to keep my dishes clean and my mind ready.
Nowadays, you don’t even know who are your friends anymore so you stop calling the cops and reach inside; scared, that they will turn bad against you.
One time a woman fell on the ground and as I reached down she thought she saw the devil. Next time an old woman fainted on the ground and as she reached up she thought she saw an angel.
The girl says; “I want no salad.” I’m pleased to hear that, now here’s some peanuts.
Deliberate copies and/or falsified reproduction of my work is not tolerated; anyone who initiate and/or knowingly holds such counterfeit is met with misfortune and losses.