Am I assembling an army?

Surrender your creativity and use authority to prosper, New Orleans.

A muffled mumble.

An inconsequential layer that will soon be removed or incorporated into my gray wonderland of sobriety, authority, and permanence.

This individual is now an ally of mine, though I imagine it was unintentional. This represents an artist's letter of resignation.

My art is to be considered "in progress," pending the lasting disintegration of creativity in New Orleans which I consider to be my ultimate masterpiece. Above you see the mindless blather of one of my many opponents. It is an ultimate irony. I seek to destroy creativity and this displeases other artists that still cling to an unrealistic, lazy, and counterproductive vision. These other artists believe that New Orleans represents some mythical beast of democracy and freedom. My artwork attempts to slay this monster while artists from the other side works pathetically toward "participation" or some other naive gasp. My work angers these other artists so they lash out.

The irony is that their flailing attempts to derail my work only destroys their own creativity. They play right into my hands, you see. The "artist" who painted the "piece" above is actually a former artist. You see, I have killed this one. This person has become so outraged by my vision for productivity that he or she has ceased their own creativity. This person is now merely a critic of my work - and an inarticulate one.

This former artist has died a sad death. Where there was once a misguided and wrongheaded vision for disorderly grassroots creativity, there remains only a desperate and reactionary plea against the hastily arriving days of sober productivity.

Full blown creativity has been reduced to a reaction against my own productivity.

How many other former artists have been decapitated by my campaign? How many other former artists are now jealously chasing me around town desperately trying to fling their corpses onto the caboose of my freight train?

I have said that I am ruthless before but I am now saying it again.

There seems to be a congratulatory sentiment being expressed for my sworn nemesis Mr. Dingler and sometimes, even for me.

What has been won? What has been lost?

Nothing has changed except Mr. Dingler is out $200 and one more misleadingly hopeful piece of "art."

I will continue to silence Dingler and his cavalcade of degenerates.
Their "art" only perpetuates an unrealistic and unsustainable pre-Katrina outlook.

It is false comfort. "New Orleans culture" is a false comfort.

Only my art realistically portrays the social and political climate in which we live.
Only my work contributes law and authority to a city desperate for sober change.

This city needs an iron fist.

The people need discipline.

Color has only risen hopes enough high enough so that the impact of the inevitable fall proves to be most painful.

Gray is the path to prosperity. Gray is the path to productivity.

Make whatever assumptions you want New Orleans. I have prevailed in my recent court appearance. Creativity is being snuffed out. Mr. Dingler can characterize the ruling against him and his terror group in as positive a light as he sees fit. I am not the one legally barred from defacing property. I am not the one paying a fine. The Courts, the government are on my side. They see how creativity has brought us almost past a point of no return. My art brings us back from the precipice and back to an aesthetic that reflects the values of silence and sacrifice.

The Mighty D-Block comes close to recognizing the need for oppressive art in a time of irresponsible radicalization; calls for color and "artistic activism" only rob young ideologues of their natural inclination to submit to powers beyond their control.

Winning Them Over

Slowly but surely.

EMPOWERMENT

I have heard people call my art "oppressive."

This is the hysterical diatribe of one of this city's creativity victims.

Soon, my murals will empower the citizens of New Orleans to break the chains of ingenuity to forge a new severity in our aesthetic lifestyle. The gospel of wealth is the interpretive dance.

People ask me all the time if I resent the failures of others to recognize my contribution to the art world. I am not resentful. Don't misunderstand what is happening. Other artists will soon realize how my work has penetrated their limited conceptions of creativity; their homogenized artistic realities crumble in the face of my timeless austerity.

Consistently, I find that my artwork goes ignored. This is one of many beautiful pieces that I've put up throughout the city. Where I layer the gray, it is meant to be evocative of the dynastic social and political rule that needs to be reimposed on New Orleans for preservationist purposes.

The key is to never get distracted or intimidated by the size or location of the canvas.