Saturday, 31 July 2010

MSIISM: Andre Masson


Into the walls of an elephant ghost we go dancing with potato sacks and several small carrier bags full of milk and spit. We fall through holes and cavort with the wrong side of the mirror. Our lungs become black balloons and we float into the sky.

We will aim for happiness and social acceptance and our art will be born out of the documentation of our embarrassing slide into a three sided mangle of ironic, testosterone soaked spasms of flesh and sauce fireworks and unnecessary 'isms'

The covert nature of the moon resides in the ephemeral contours of meat. The documentation of such engenders the palpable notion of concepts.

MSIISM MSIISM MSIISM syllable syllable syllable.

The poets vice is the construct of ruin and the taut, fleshy abdomens of ambiguity.


In time we will all learn the warmth and roughness of the brick.


MSIISM is the space between the mirror and the reflection.

Reeling against the rungs of reality. We gather all of our gusto for the purpose of nothing and everything. We stand like mountains and fall like birds, a sea of headless feathers through which we wade.

The outcome?

The achievement of dissatisfaction and resentment.

MSIISM is pretentious. It aims not to impose but to re-adress the situation of ubiquity to it's complete insignificance.

A piffling, homogeneous representation, that shits in radial colours.

Like everything in life, MSIISM is utterly useless; A gaud inflection enveloped in gimmickry.

Invert your knowledge and transcend with a cheap sense of geometry; MSIISM is indignation with a pen and an uncompromising realisation that ideas are flabby.

MSSISM gives a platform for all people with ideas, and encourages nothing.

Friday, 23 July 2010

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

Jesus Christ!


There are over 30,00 christian denominations. Good one.

Sunday, 18 July 2010

New Limited Edition Space Shoes

New Limited Edition Space Shoes! are now available for purchase. they are hand drawn with tender love and physics.
Spokes person of the New Space Shoes Limited Company, Mr. Jonathan Poravic Peculiar, has been recorded as saying
"These are probably the best shoes in all the universes, and there are about five universes to my knowledge.
These shoes make planets wish they had feet! and that's been scientifically proven!"


So, to summerise... to obtain a pair of these majestic geometrically ergonomic universally spank tingling feet rockets,
email me at for only 15 earth coins sterling (£15 + p&p)


Friday, 16 July 2010

The Upside Down Indian in Retrospect

4 framed original collages
Collaboration with Emma Parry ( & whitewhitebrowntwig)

Two framed original collages

Thursday, 15 July 2010

Blue Worm

Andre Masson's bedroom looks quieter when sat in the trees.
The cave has been moved and the walls are loose.
The towels are a vibrant hue, with loquacious plastic tongues.
Your beard is tickling me Ginsberg, but your eyes are shut,
and the entrance to your legs has been closed.
Albert Camus, what have you been reduced to?
Four point five percent of your original liquid overcoat,
swirling in the empty head that's dropped behind the bedside cabinet.
Mersault and the cynical weather seem now fickle yet resplendent.
The hand of Henri Michaux rests within an undeciferable wall.
The lion is moving like water
and we exchange dimethyltryptamine for sea shells.
There isn't despair in my mouth anymore,
only teeth
dangling from the ceiling like the bad ideas of cats.
Garcia-Lorca is on the brink of a rose's nostril,
the eyes on the horses neck are blinded by the panorama of an otherwise
phosphorescent morning.
The morning hangs loosely from the stomach of a dry mouth.
We are not in New York.

Give me a small paper square of Tristan Tzara, so we can revolt against our ideals,
and our own minds.

Des Esseintes is no where to be seen. The grammar of his architecture is too dense for contemplation.
There's an incommodious aesthetic to your knowledge, and the tortoise is dead.
The age has dissipated when the green appeared to be cut open like a dazzling flesh,
spilling green, and greener profusely.
The trees were envious of themselves, but the shrubbery content.

There's methadrone emerging from these old walls,
but no one is quoting Shoppenhauer.

I realise I don't talk much anymore.

Wednesday, 7 July 2010


The unparalleled, unseen interventions between the perceptual motions of catharsis and the anti-philosophical bovine nature of vestigial physics.
MSI-ISM (miz-eye-izm) : The clandestine sub-movement of surrealism and dadaism.
This was spearheaded by Andre Breton, Tristan Tzara, Joan Miro and Andre Masson, sometime before the initial conception of the Dadaist movement.
They believed that art was purest only when juxtaposed with the contradictory, and that it was inextricably linked to the visceral qualities of meat, and the delicacy and intricacies of natural forms.
Breton believed that "the blood of the artist must pass from arteries, through to the finely drawn contours of a flower."
Masson and Miro, both firm pioneers of the hidden correlation between astrology and emotion, began to map out complex esoteric diagrams, with little information given to the interpreter.
Whilst giving a reading of these diagrams in the Nouvelle France brasserie, Miro was questioned to explain the meaning of the diagrams to a disillusioned audience. "The invisible screens between space and prolonged sleep," Miro retorted, "might well derive a sense of ferocious behaviour. The roughness and warmth of a brick will undoubtedly astonish the crowd."

The Msiists practiced collage, photo montage, frottage, automatic drawing and photography, but all of these creative avenues were underpinned by the overwhelming precedence of the spoken and written word.