Solo Exhibition <Buttered Side?> #11
Opening Party：2014.10.12 19:30
Exhibition Duration：2014.10.12 - 2014.10.24（Fri.-Sun. 14:00 - 18:00）
Address：Dimensions Art Center（DAC）
Introduction by Artist
You Can’t Play Poker without Cards
Many of us have apparently been given too much butter as kids, because as adults we still imagine we can find an inner genius in ourselves. When I was a kid, I too used to imagine that God had great plans for me, that I was the chosen one. As time wore on, it became clear no plans were made for me.
You can be anything you want to be, mothers and student counselors have repeated for too long. We want to be the new Madonna or just otherwise booming, beloved and beautiful. Everyone is made to imagine they’re big shots. When we’re young, we think we own the world. We hear what we want to hear.
We make great plans for our lives, we want to become famous artists and the Danube of thoughts or at least want to get some third-rate first book award. The most infuriating type is the faux-bohemian intellectual wannabe with their cerebral aura who loiters around in
the corridors of libraries and the faculty of arts adorned with thick-rimmed glasses keen to discuss Derrida.
The yearning for success burns. We put in long hours to attain these goals. We have been made to believe that hard work will be rewarded at some point in the distant future. We think that the present is just a prologue before the limelight. Everyone wants a place in the sun. The reality hits one fine day when we understand that our goal is unobtainable. We think we’re in the winning team to the bitter end. We are prisoners of this illusion. I will be something someday. We cannot admit the less glorious truth that we should be happy if we belong to the caste of the mediocre. Your fortune is not waiting round the corner. The world is cruel and the winter too long.
N.B. If you feel like someone special, like a genius in the making, it may be a symptom of a mental disorder, a personality susceptible to depression or schizophrenia.
a spoilt child of the 21st century.
Opening Party of the Exhibition
When you’re talented, people start envying you. Weak people always envy those who make it. But tell me what kind of cars they drive and what kind of women they sleep with. And I mean women in the plural. When their loser husbands are mowing their lawns outside, I’m fucking their wives. I give women pleasure. Why should I deny them that? And the kind of satisfaction I give them, they’ll never get anywhere else. My magical touch. No woman ever left my place unsatisfied. The women, they’ve tried to make me stay, but they’re quick to notice that they can’t hold me with the cards they’ve been dealt. I believe in monogamy as long as it only lasts for one night. I don’t enjoy breaking the hearts of random women, but that’s how it goes. And I’m not sorry. Sometimes being rude is the only way to get out. When the women understand their mistakes they’ll do anything to get me back. They may beg and plead. I just have got to cut my way out. And I never look back. So many women, so little time. I’m good at what I do. I can’t help myself. Modesty is just not my thing. And I’m not going to apologize for being successful. Could you move a bit? Your breath stinks. I’m the vice president of our company nowadays, as you probably know. About time that I got a promotion. No one can deny that I’m the central figure of this company. And no t a substitute.
I can see through people’s pathetic lies and weak defences. I play along with their game, but by my own rules. You see, I get people to do what I want. Or more accurately, now this may sound a bit scary, but I’m used to that. People recognize my authority. Once I put my mind to something, I will invest all my energy and efforts in it, whether or not it is a small or a big project. I will never settle for second best. I constantly compare my performance. These days I start my mornings with push ups. I could do a thousand push ups right now. lazy people, I think they’re like rotten apples, you put one next to a fresh one, and soon enough they’ll both be rotten. In this age of psychobabble, even me, I once felt depressed, but then I went out jogging. This is what life is like. Get used to it. No one ever said that this would be a trip to an amusement park. Depression is just an excuse for laziness. The weak try to draw pity from the people around them. “It’s all my mums fault.” They blame others, their mum, the environment or the tooth fairy for everything that didn’t go their way. I’m my own master. I take care of myself. Because the fact is, you are what you eat. I have a balanced diet and a strict exercise routine. I’m full of energy and I’m in a really good shape. Is it my fault that they have been gorging too much?
I don’t want to hear “I really don’t eat that much”. In real they eat more food in one day than I do in a week . I think it’s perfectly acceptable to criticize and put down losers, someone’s got to do that too. Oops, I didn’t know that I can’t voice my opinions. If I can’t criticize others, what am I supposed to talk about, weather? For fuck’s sake. And you can eat shit for all I care. Or you can eat anything you want to , but don’t think that I’ll be interested in your problems. Oh yes, and good looks mean nothing and money doesn’t make you happy. The kind of brain farts people let out. It’s tough at the top, but I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. No one can tell me that I haven’t earned it. I have a busy day ahead.
Thing is, I wanna be successful. Finland is too backward for my taste. I have to get out. I deserve better. I’ve always known I’m special, different from the others. Finns are so ugly, and badly dressed. Uglies should stay at home or be locked in a cellar. It’s annoying to see them every day – In some stupid Marimekko get-up. When I see them looking at clothes on sale I would like to say to them:” Don’t bother. You’ll look ugly anyway. Before wasting your pennies, slim down and lose the wattle.” People are so stupid. I told my boyfriend to ditch his stupid cap. But no, he says his ears get cold. Finns are so after creature comforts. And then they think that modesty is like some virtue. Modesty is plain boring. They say that if you aim too high, you are bound to miss. Shouldn’t we have goals, then? And if you’re good at something, you’re not supposed to say it. You have to downgrade yourself. You get born and then slave at some dull job – in order to pay the loan for some lousy house in a smart area. Upon an early retirement, you can enjoy the golden days – and mow the lawn in your middle class illusion. That won’t last.
You’ll get cancer or suffocate to your own lard. You die, and life carries on just as usual. No-one remembers you or they just don’t care. People have their own worries with their boring life. Is this why we are here? I think I deserve success. I’ve worked hard for it, and I’m better than the rest. I make good art, or at least better than some. I’ve googled that the Tate Gallery in London and the Gagosian gallery in New York are the places to be. Even Damien Hirst has showed there. Art schools are full of some vegetarian do-gooder hippies. Don’t they know that we don’t make art to get peace on earth and bigger pens for cows? It would be nice to make money, too. I want a certain lifestyle. I don’t care to slum. I’d like to be a rich aristocrat a blue-blooded who inherited a fortune. I don’t want to slave away like these average dullards. I want glamour, beautiful people and things. Like Marilyn Monroe said, diamonds are a girl’s best friend. I guess I do art so that people would notice and respect me. People are divided into winners and losers. I want to be a winner too.
Self Portrait, Video