artist’s housekeeper-21.12.09

*artwork-new vision, osho zen tarot


i am an artist’s housekeeper.
i always wished to be a muse,
but this will also do fine.

i come, and i arrange.
facilitate the space,
so he can create.
i feed him.
i wash his dirty dishes
and i fold his tangled clothing.
i put on his favorite music,
and light the incense
then i open the windows
to let out the smell of paint
and of dreams that will never come true

i watch him working,
and my heart is full.
i touch his mess
and i feel empowered
for it is my tiny share,
his creation is ,in a way, mine


*artwork- selfportait by stas korolov



and there he goes painting and drawing and sketching his own face again and again and again, trying to understand who he is. every single day. he doesn’t try to pretend, to make it look prettier, more appealing, more attractive. no. he wants it real. with all these lines and black spots and dry skin. he wants it real. so he paints it with oil on canvas and with ¬Ācharcoals on white sheets of paper and with an ink pen in his old notebooks. hundreds of drawings. with different facial expressions, with different lighting, with all kinds of objects and people around him. and he goes on and on and tries to find sense and meaning in this inconsistent mix of flesh and desires of bones and emotions of secretions and hopes of functioning body and dysfunctional soul.

gera areg-6.12.09


gera. areg. rega. erag. egar…
he is everything. he is nothing. he is everywhere and nowhere at once. he is the one to be loved. and he is the one who loves everybody whilst loving no one.
gera paints using his fingers and embroiders his paintings with tapestry. he writes poetry using no rhymes. yes, he is talented. yes, he is different.

he is the sunshine making everyone around smile with pleasure and, maybe, envy inside. he seems to grab the life by its horns. he seems to be forever happy. he is so loud and present. he loves girls but fucks men. girls just adore him. ¬†straight men also do. gera’s everybody’s friend. how come you don’t know gera? everybody wants to be gera’s friend.

gera is the king of the castle. gera is the party queen. cheap cigarette smoke blurs his face, torn t-shirt with stripes and dirty jeans on- he looks like million dollars. and, oh, his hair is always perfect. he is the queen of the neighborhood. you don’t know gera yet? well, then let’s get some weed and some arak and throw a roof party. gera will be there.

gera is a smart boy. that’s why he plays it simple. why bother? anyway, everybody just talks “art”, everybody is talking ” creativity”. so, why bother being too deep? why scare them people with the depth of this hole? it is black as pitch. better off. why go there when it is another street party and some sedative sex and theme party and all sorts of substances that he can drink and smoke and sniff and another bar night and vintage sale and gallery opening and film festival and… and… and…so he laughs and hugs and kisses anybody who is pressing his cheek. while smoking a cigarette that blurs his face.

and in the mornings, when there are no people around, he cries. and thinks he will never make it to 30 year old.