Facebook often seems like little more than a mindless habit. When earlier TV was the main stupefyer, for dulling dreams and aspirations we are now presented with a wide array of destructive force, Facebook surely being the most wretched. Another time consumer, a forum for people to keep track of each other from afar without having to engage, while at the same time submitting to having all activity registered and used for whatever purpose developers / owners see fit, all shrouded in mystery.

What has there for the individual been to gain from Facebook, more than feeling like a prying peeping Tom?
Like many I’ve exposed several sides of myself, all of which have garnered response and critique by probably very few others than me.  Why do it on Facebook where you’re probably “hidden” by most, or now “subscribed to” by few? Why not do it on your own blog? Why not be personal?
Questions arise – There are many ways in which one can use Facebook; are you doing it wrong? Did you not find your specific Facebook groove?
Hey, it is what it is; you’re not encouraged to express individuality in this gated community.
Did Facebook outgrow me, or did I outgrow Facebook?
Whatever, all that is beside the point (and pathetic) – What Facebook has become scares me. I no longer want to contribute.

Facebook, naturally, has evolved. It’s growing and it keeps getting better, snatching good i.e. effective ideas from other forums such as Google+ and Twitter, and recently its power seems to be stretching out beyond its own boundaries. Apparently one now needs a Facebook account in order to get access to Spotify (?). If you don’t think that merits worry then you, my “friend”, are a zombie mercenary.

Part of my fear is that Facebook is becoming an internet within itself.
Why choose an internet owned and laden with censorship and rules when there’s the old freer alternative? Why willingly stay with an American behemoth with all the abuse, hypocrisy and twisted morality which invariably comes with the package?! Where’s your integrity, fool!? Yes, seriously,

WHERE IS THE INTEGRITY OF MAN IN THIS DAY AND AGE?

We must always in everything we do strive for a decentralization of power.

“The realistic and representational art movement in the Stockholm region has grown stronger in recent years. Those involved see it as a timeless and nonironic rediscovering of the craft of painting, the respect of skill and the love of beauty within the arts. This show is a collaboration between the artschool Atelier Stockholm and the artist run gallery Art Concept Store and will give you a significant taste of what Stockholm as a city has to offer of young emerging artists in this regard. This is their first joint public appearance.”

Assassination of the monks of Tibhirine

Quote from film (Swedish):

Om det någon dag skulle hända att jag, och det kan ske i dag, faller offer för terrorismen som drabbat utlänningar här vill jag att mitt samfund, min kyrka och min familj ska minnas att jag gav mitt liv åt Gud och detta land och att de accepterar att allt livs Mästare inte är främmande för en sådan brutal hädanfärd och att min våldsamma död, likt många andra förpassas till glömska och anonymitet. Jag har levt länge nog för att vara en medbrottsling till ondskan som verkar segra i världen och som tveklöst kommer att förgöra mig. Jag skulle aldrig önska mig en sådan död. Jag skulle aldrig kunna glädjas åt att folket som jag älskar urskiljningslöst skulle anklagas för mitt mord. Jag vet hur man över hela världen har föraktat det här folket och hur karikatyrerna av islam främjat en viss typ av islamism. Det här landet, och islam, är för mig något annat. Det är en kropp och en själ. Min död kommer att ge dem rätt som kallat mig naiv och idealistisk men de ska veta att jag nu fått min brinnande nyfikenhet stillad och, om Gud vill, ska jag försänka min blick i Herrens och beskåda Hans islamska barn såsom Han ser dem. I detta tack, när allt är sagt om mitt liv vill jag givetvis omfatta gårdagens och dagens vänner och även du, vän i min sista stund som inte visste vad du gjorde. Ja, även till dig vill jag tillägna detta tack och farväl som du har förutsett. Må vi mötas igen likt lyckliga tjuvar i paradiset om Gud så vill, Han som är fader till oss båda. Amen. Inshallah.

English:

Should it ever befall me, and it could happen today, to be a victim of the terrorism swallowing up all foreigners here, I would like my community, my church, my family, to remember that my life was given to God and to his country. That the Unique Master of all life was no stranger to this brutal departure. And that my death is the same as so many other violent ones, consigned to the apathy of oblivion. I’ve lived enough to know, I am complicit in the evil that, alas, prevails over the world and the evil that will smite me blindly. I could never desire such a death. I could never feel gladdened that these people I love be accused randomly of my murder. I know the contempt felt for the people here, indiscriminately. And I know how Islam is distorted by a certain Islamism. This country, and Islam, for me are something different. They’re a body and a soul. My death, of course, will quickly vindicate those who call me naïve or idealistic, but they must know that I will be freed of a burning curiosity and, God willing, will immerse my gaze in the Father’s and contemplate with him his children of Islam as he sees them. This thank you which encompasses my entire life includes you, of course, friends of yesterday and today, and you too, friend of last minute, who knew not what you were doing. Yes, to you as well I address this thank you and this farewell which you envisaged. May we meet again, happy thieves in Paradise, if it pleases God the Father of us both. Amen. Insha’Allah.

Having just paid the entrance fee and stepped onto the beautiful terrace overlooking a vast industrial area of Stockholm I stopped …“NO, wait a second, not THAT Milles!?? Not ‘the creator of the ugliest piece of crap sculpture ever made’-Milles / ‘the bane of Gothenburg’-Milles??!” But, alas, to my embarrassment it was indeed that very man, and I was (am) now contributing to his legacy of contrived highly distasteful baroque “art”.

Luckily my companion presents ample allure and easily makes wonderful even a visit to a cultural garbage dump. It all turned into an excellent opportunity to get to know one another better.

There was however a nice surprise to be found at Millesgården, the only reason I’m actually writing this – Somewhat tucked away in one of the buildings were a small number of quite masterly drawings and one painting, all made by Olga Milles, the woman who suffered from the misfortune of being the wife of the highly inflated Carl.

(self portrait)

These pieces are a delight and in my eyes easily the main attraction on show.

Ironically, Olga’s artistic ambition and productivity all but died after she married Carl, next to whom she considered herself insignificant. “Olga Milles always scrutinized her artistry with great uncertainty and self-criticism, while Carl Milles never doubted his greatness.”
Hardly a shocker, yet very tragic.

All was in order, no sign of wrongdoing. An Emma F had even left a receipt.

There was however darkness over the horizon – a massive cloud of smoke was rising from a building nearby. Fire, a tragedy in the making. Fire trucks, ambulances and police; sirens screeching – I watched in horror, wiped the sweat from my forehead, turned around, faced the chaos that was my home and knew that all is relative. This, my residency, was the REAL tragedy, and it needed sorting.

I was standing in the kitchen. A week’s worth of dishes were swimming in a pool of slime. A wasp queen was inspecting the open cabinets, scouting for a suitable location to build her colony.
From my vantage point I could see out into the hallway where the training mat was still on the floor, placed there the day before with the ambition to do my stomach crunches but still not used. Above it, on my brother’s book shelf I had placed his trimmer. Once again the time had come to rid myself of my sole male attribute – my red beard.

I got started. I guided the wasp out the window while trying to convince her that the best future for her offspring was certainly to be found elsewhere.
Closing cabinet doors, putting not soiled things back in their proper place, I found a way to reach the sink. I did those dishes with a determination which I’m sure would have made even my parents proud. I wiped all surfaces with a new clean rag.

Music – LCD Soundsystem.

The hallway now. Vacuum cleaner just sitting there.
Clothes from the laundry room, still in a bag, waiting to be put back in the closet, I took care of it. Got this area of the flat presentable in no time at all.

The time had come for my bedroom, and this is where my memory becomes blurred. I remember navigating my foot over the threshold and between the first stacks of paperwork, but after that there are only faint patches of light and dark… I think I was listening to Clint Mansell’s Black Swan O.S.T… I remember at one point sharing with the dust bunnies a free spot on the floor under the computer desk, reading a passage out of Melville’s Moby Dick…

Things become clear first when I was sitting in the kitchen again, enjoying a can of A&W Root Beer. I felt good about myself, romantically comparing my day with a lifetime – you’re flung into a world of crap, and it’s up to you to to the best of your abilities tidy up and find your own personal Root Beer paradise.

I had done it. I had cleaned the entire apartment.

The best part of the whole exercise was that I did it all in the nude; dick swinging with every move, testicles dangling like two huge pomegranates in awkwardly connected punching bags, while I was also inevitably pimping the apartment with a few colorful carrot-tasting pubic hairs. It was fantastically spectacular, and good fun too.

The no. 2 painter, all categories:

Banksy

When you read about Banksy on Wikipedia you’ll find under ‘movement’: Anti-war, Anti-capitalism, Anti-fascism, Anti-imperialism, Anti-authoritarianism, Anarchism, Nihilism, and Existentialism. All of which every sane person would accept and support. Banksy, this mythological anonymous mystery-man, represents all of these movements better than any famous person alive. Can you think of anyone who’s managed to capitalize on and sell all of these anti:s as has Banksy? And still, unanonymous or not, the blighter can still stroll down to the pub and have a couple of pints with his mates without having the paparazzi buggering him.

Excerpts from ‘Banksy – Wall and Piece’, the book a k-zillion people own and another k-zillion people SHOULD own:

“I’m going to speak my mind, so this won’t take very long.

Despite what they say graffiti is not the lowest form of art. Although you might have to creep about at night and lie to your mum it’s actually one of the more honest art forms available. There is no elitism or hype, it exhibits on the best walls a town has to offer and nobody is put off by the price of admission.

A wall has always been the best place to publish your work.

The people who run our cities don’t understand graffiti because they think nothing has the right to exist unless it makes a profit, which makes their opinion worthless.

They say graffiti frightens people and is symbolic of the decline in society, but graffiti is only dangerous in the mind of three types of people; politicians, advertising executives and graffiti writers.

The people who truly deface our neighbourhoods are the companies that scrawl giant slogans across buildings and buses trying to make us feel inadequate unless we buy their stuff. They expect to be able to shout their message in your face from every available surface but you’re never allowed to answer back. Well, they started the fight and the wall is the weapon of choice to hit them back.

Some people become cops because they want to make the world a better place. Some people become vandals because they want to make the world a better looking place.”

“Brandalism

Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.”

I’ve chosen to include selected

“Advice on painting with stencils

-It’s always easier to get forgiveness than permission

-Nothing in the world is more common than unsuccessful people with talent, leave the house before you find something worth staying in for.

-Try to avoid painting in places where they still point at aeroplanes.

-When explaining yourself to the Police its worth being as reasonable as possible. Graffiti writers are not real villains. Real villains consider the idea of breaking in someplace, not stealing anything and then leaving behind a painting of your name in four foot high letters the most retarded thing they ever heard of.

-The easiest way to become invisible is to wear a day-glo vest and carry a tiny transistor radio playing Heart FM very loudly. If questioned about the legitimacy of your painting simply complain about the hourly rate.

-Crime against property is not real crime. People look at an oil painting and admire the use of brushstrokes to convey meaning. People look at a graffiti painting and admire the use of a drainpipe to gain access.

-The time of getting fame for your name on its own is over. Artwork that is only about wanting to be famous will never make you famous. Fame is a by-product of doing something else. You don’t go to a restaurant and order a meal because you want to have a shit.”

Banksy’s very inspiring movie Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010) had a profound impact on me. It was nominated for Best Documentary in the 2011 Academy Awards, and in my mind only cements his status as a multitalented super savant. Download it from the usual retailers.

There is so much I’d like to know about Banksy. How has he managed to keep his identity secret for so long? How exactly has he financed his increasingly complex projects and never ending world travels? What’s the deal in his studio / workshop / factory (?); does he run a traditional business with employees and wages?
This information may already be out there, maybe it’ll surface with time, or I may never know.
However, it doesn’t really matter and I think I’ve already gotten the most valuable gift on offer from the Banksy concept – Loving encouragement / inspiration to make whichever reality that suits me the best take shape. Appreciating his efforts by far transcends the usual “ooh that’s so pretty and clever”, and ultimately means facing one of the most important arguments of our time. Society gives scant incentive for deviant ways of life, while at the same time it could be argued that the opposite is true in its presently flawed form.  Capitalism is writhing in its death throes, and never before have I felt such desire to break free, to learn and to love, all thanks to Banksy, the no 2 painter in the world, and the no 1 wanker.

Working from dawn to dusk may be the norm for most real artists, but be that as it may, this amateur hasn’t touched his brushes for over a month. There are several things I’d like to do. Shit en masse has for a long time been just laying around, stinking the place up, collecting dust and boogers, making me depressed, robbing me of life forcsh…  Still, there is so much potential in awll tis shiaat!
Why start slow when one can get the show on the road with an aggressive #paintingmarathon!?
Don’t want to tell you exactly what I have planned, so as to not risk sharing my probable disappointment when there is again too little time for my too many aspirations. I can tell you however, I will be mucking about with a range of things.

As mentioned earlier I’ll be sharing my updates on Twitter. Comments and photos taken with my iPhone 3, all up in yow hungover slacker Sunday screen!
If you don’t have a Twitter account or if you have one but don’t follow me (that’s ok, I guess), all that goes on there is open even for nonmembers; it’s possible to check things out. Check it out! My Twitter name is ValdemarLethin and the painting marathon hashtag is #paintingmarathon .
I wan’t to get started at 8:00 (GMT +1) at the very latest. Don’t forget that that night is the one when we are robbed of an hour.

Follow, if you don’t in incognizance want to wallow!