“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”
– Some guy named Picasso
You peasants won’t understand art. I’m not an artist but I once drank champagne in a bath tub so I have class. You see, my most recent acquisition is a Note 5. It’s a great smartphone, Samsung. I don’t even need friends or family anymore. The precision of the stylus combined with my own inner turmoil unleashed a fury of mediocre creative productions.
Whenever inspiration hit me, instead of any other worthwhile feeling, I would pop out the stylus and open up SNote. When I felt sad, I drew. When I was hungry, I drew. When I lost my tweezer, I cried then I drew.
What follows are a few of my masterpieces. Brace yourself. You may not be accustomed to beholding such vision and insight. Before proceeding, please open your mind, and drop your standard for what a masterpiece should be.
This is pretty cute:
This has something to do with the high price of fuel, I’m sure:
Nature is a downer:
This is a funny joke. Laugh:
Love is a magical thing:
Beautiful things are meant to take your breath away:
This is something:
Accurate schematic of female physiology based on my own experience:
Most advice is ironically unhelpful:
Put this up on your wall:
Take a second to catch your breath.
If you’re aroused, don’t be ashamed – we all are.
All of these are available as autographed hardcopies for R5000 excluding VAT and delivery.
This is one I call “Cellmate”:
A product of my conversion to male feminism:
Get ice cream in all the flavors you’re used to: