Artist of Chaos

Artist of Chaos

(Artist is painting on a wall. Something unique and captivating.)

I am an artist of chaos. In each and every little thing I do, I embody the idea of chaos.

Now, there are many different theories on art. Some dedicate themselves to being able to capture every detail that is in their minds—architects whose art has already been made in their head, constructing a recreation through whatever media they are working with. Others find their art through spontaneity. These explorers use their brush to guide their minds to new places. Both are viable methods of thought. I’m neither. Because those theories are always about capturing an image. I couldn’t be anymore different.

(Pulls out statue)

I made this not too long ago. It’s an imp, a little devilish creature. They cause mischief, and I like them because of it. They make a lot of sense to me. Not all violence in this world has a just reason, apart from…shit just happens.

So it occurs to me: Why do I have a creation to illustrate chaos? I think I was trying to create chaos through a lot of random gestures and body features that represent dissonance: a bulbous nose, puffy lips, a squinting eye, big and slimy feet, cheek bones that put Cher’s to shame.

But I look at it a bit more.
It’s kind of charming.
It looks like it’s winking at me.
And if I let it, it would kiss me on the forehead with those green, puffy lips, and steal away all of my pains.
In its own special way, this ugly little man is not chaotic.
No.
He’s beautiful.

It’s not too late to fix it though. I find it that everyone has the potential to be chaotic, even this guy here (gestures to imp). The thing is that chaos is never potential. It’s always kinetic. So, all I have to do to put a little chaos in my work, is to give it a little motion.

(Drops the imp on the floor, smashing it.)

Not so appealing anymore, right? No shape, no form. If I run my foot through it, some of the dust goes this way, some that way. Nothing that attracts us. And, you know what the most horrible thing about this is? The thing that really lets us taste the chaos going on here? It’s knowing that at one point, this pile of dust had all the potential in the world to be endearing. And before you could take in this shape to be something beautiful, (Kicks the dust) it changes again.

Because chaos is ever changing, and who am I to capture it?

(Dips hands into paint, up to elbows, and smears paint across the painting. Scene End.)