“You don’t make sense,” as much as I can’t please every single one of you neither can I nor will I ever want/need to be an attraction to anyone of you.
Let me not sound so fancy by stating that I can’t listen to anything else other than classical music while I paint. But it’s okay now, because I bet you are already all so trendy, and cool.
I am using black oil paint.
I, now, have Facebook. aminebatbouti1
The ruined version of the objective.
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.
Who says; unless stated otherwise, that it is okay to cover and/or use, a credited, someone else’s work to connect with/under your own—who says; unless stated otherwise, that they even like your work.
“—You stole that,” as if I also choose to be born with a Jewish tongue. Of which, I am pretty fluent with it.
Stranger; “Don’t you have any muse.”
Me; “Pervert, what’s so weird about it. I don’t. Now cry.”
Stranger; “Who/what are your inspirations.”
Me; “I mean we live in a world where everything, and everyone has shaped/influenced us at some point or another in some way or another in how we express ourselves and that’s the beauty of becoming. Therefore, upon close examination at something or someone anything will naturally remind you of someone or something else. However, oddly as it may sound, I was just brought up into a world without being driven into any particular stupid hero figure per se. Like I often feel; not human.”
They are obsessed with me.
There are two ways in which to critic an artist, by either using an external communicative form or sneaking it into one’s work. So have you made your choice yet.
There are two ways in which to attack an artist, by either their technique or inspiration. So have you decided yet.
They keep talking about a tree,
Cornered away and shunned this way,
If they only knew the whole story,
They would scream in disappointment;
“How it was never about an adultry.”
I, now, have Instagram. @aminebatbouti
Motherfuckers—drinking and smoking to try to release the pain so you can do art and wine about it.
Here’s to anyone who might start going off slandering my name that I’m in any way, shape, or form copying another person’s work; I will defend myself in court—with proof, truth, reason, and logic. See you there.
Anyone can do art, but not everyone is an artist.
Bear this message,
A journey from overseas,
Marks the milestone of partners in crime;
“Fetch my bone, bring my cup, and let us be in peace.”
“Let me pot-pourri sexual obsession and publicity after shooting a skank and tagging it money art.”
New paintings some time.
Fighter, painter, and writer. ✡
German-Jewish by blood, I was brought down in the Grand Casablanca in the late 80’s destiny had led me for an arrival in Canada in the early 90’s where the remaining of my childhood memories had me creeping into the Italian neighbourhood of Montreal, QC.
Living in the suburb area of Montréal, I’m from Munich. I have a definite love for fighting, painting, painting, and writing. I’m also very fond in the studies of the Torah and Kabbalah, in the appreciation of the classical genres and antiques, and in the beauty of the sober aesthetics.
Year 2012, my mind lures off on a strange set of art tools and pencils resting silently on a coffee table. In 2015, I drew my first portraits. In 2016, my words couldn’t be held down anymore, and I started writing. In 2017, I started painting. In 2020, my natural ability in sport combined with my fighting spirit arised for a start in boxe training.
Self-taught, and straight. I have strong values in justice and the law of nature where life & death is a healthy process of manifestation. I believe in the animal welfare and the human rights.
My natural body scent smells like a mix of ice cream and honey.
You are welcome to share my work under a clear and visible credit. All my work is from me and only me.
To the addressees, experts, and professionals who had helped, saved, and supported me in my journey; “Thank you.” To my biological mom and dad; “Mourn me not for I have spent a lifetime in doing just so.”
The bell rings as one grows. The cloak shrinks. The holes rip and the skin shows.
People forget your mistakes but in return they would never forgive you for success.
I live inside the dark where it is neither right nor wrong.
I don’t believe in suicide. “But why,” it is because I hate cheaters.
Trust in life, and for the rest that is up to you for better or worse.
Be your own inspiration; absolutely and selfishly so that your expression is forever yours.
They kicked me up with hopes and wishes to sit me down—I had done very well at being a good patient.
The downfall of an artist begins when they start to let go of being themselves.
In my roots be secure that I won’t be let down for which us belong to the above and beyond.
People are going to laugh. They first laughed at my name for I was born a writer.
Given the proper support, anyone who tries very hard in a field can be good at it. However, why would you live up the dream of someone else life’s purpose.
If all the gossips and rumours slandered about me had been true then I wouldn’t have made it—and I have fucking made it.
Raised by an unloving mother and father—and I am shedding no tears.
Strong people are living their lives whereas the weak, at the bottom of the food chain, are looking to sue you for it.
An empty shell forms; 0-4 months. A soul incarnates the fetus; 4-7 months. An infant is created; 7-9 months. Dodge a bullet, or forever bite it.
What science can or cannot prove a mystery; nature had been, is, and will always be.
Anything that you sacrifice for the sake of love is never an evidence of love—bitch, I keep my name.
Their is another religion, sect, and government who treat their people as slaves and cattle. And they have been eating and drinking.
The ink on my body have been purposefully chosen based on raw and gross forms which can only be then deciphered by the self. A forever dialect unbeknownst to others.
Dare not hate nor mock of my image for which I didn’t come unto this world without.
I do not strive to become famous, popular, or loved by the world—I have better things to do.