ShitHouse Scripture

Image result for bathroom graffiti artThe world is littered… polluted with untold beauty. Society is full of morose, psychotic… compassionate people. These are the people who hide… lurk within the crevices… in plain sight. The sociopath. It’s levels far below that of a man who kills thirty or forty people with a sniper rifle. Still, it’s a level of antisocial behavior that we’ve yet to comprehend. We see it. We write it off as another wacko and we go about our day. It’s there for our thorough examination, yet the more you sit and question the further down the rabbit hole you go. Understanding the mind of a person who does this… just wondering why can leave you drained. Why does someone… draw this? There is no reason. There is no statement. It just is. That’s all we know. The artist could’ve had some meaning behind his creation, but he never blessed us with the answers. It’s the same with life: God never gave anyone a manual. Our understanding comes to nothing.

I’ve come to the conclusion that art doesn’t belong in any gallery. It doesn’t belong in the Louvre or the Met. It belongs in the streets and, of course… in the public restrooms. You can’t confine it. Art isn’t about restrictions. Art is happening everywhere and at every moment… even when you’re dropping a deuce! Now, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, there is always the imminent threat of marauders overthrowing everything we’ve worked

to create and burning all that we deem beautiful. It’s happened before, like with the Image result for bathroom graffiti artburning of the great library in Alexandria. The works that weren’t destroyed were stolen, priceless artifacts lost to time all because someone really enjoyed Homer’s Lost Tales. It’s our natural impulse to steal what is beautiful; to want it for ourselves, but we have to learn to ignore this vulgar ideology. We have to appreciate art for what it is; an everyday struggle to see what is inherently beautiful in the mundane.

In such a world, art seems almost defenseless. It’s a matter of perception. How many textbooks have you opened to a girl with her mouth opened wide… and a dick just waiting by her ears? And did you know there’s graffiti on the pyramids? We haven’t been able to get through any ‘Age of Man’ without leaving our stamp, our pollution, leaving just a hint that we were here. Hagia Sophia, one of the greatest achievements of the Byzantine Empire was ‘tagged’ by some marauder whose name is still there… TO THIS DAY! Good for him… I mean… his artwork lasted longer than the empire!

Shopping for art is another big waste of time. Art is everywhere and you’ve wasted your money. You can be walking along and just out of some divine miracle be struck by creativity. You just find the nearest bathroom stall and ‘POOF’ there it is, nestled safely within the secure confines of a bathroom stall at my local library. I found something not quite as profound as the drawing at the top-left, but it still made me question the laws that regulate reality. What is sacred, when anyone in the world can draw… whatever this is (I think it’s a masterpiece) and leave it to rot on the walls of a room that people hope to flee from in a matter of minutes.

How could the Vincent Van Gogh of our time leave this masterpiece? Doesn’t he feel anything for his creation, or is it more sacred to leave your work for the world to enjoy. Is the artist forever doomed to let his creation go, as the bird with his broken wing is meant to fly away, even if you nurture it, this bird is born free and owes you nothing. Makin’ me think… Well, played… shithouse Vincent Van Gogh… well played.

My belief, this one took either many different trips to the shitter by the same artist, or a concession of many artists working in tandem. Shit after shit, hour by hour… they came to a masterpiece that they could forever be proud of, and God bless them for their sacrifice. Usually when I have a large enough poop that I have the time to draw such an intricate painting I have not the patience, but such is what separates the artist from the peasant. The drawing that has brought this masterpiece to my attention, was not in the same vein, but it was special nevertheless. It was a drawing in pen of the female body, but drawn with the clumsiness of a child who had yet to see one. He had a crude interpretation of what it was, this elusive female figure, making the breasts ‘ginormous’ and the rest of her thin enough that the girl would topple over if she was real. She had no feet, which made me feel bad, since she could never run away from this hell, but she had clown hands, which are hands that are much too massive for any decent human being. They seemed to be inflating by the minute, and I had a brief hope that the poor girl would explode. Luckily, when I came back to take a picture some horrible barbarian had painted over it.

The proof is within my warped mind… anyway, there was a deep incision where her legs joined together; it wasn’t where the vagina should be, but further up, perhaps around the section that should have been her belly button. It was the mighty eye of Ra, like the eye of an octopus… the vagina is a terrifying creature, as elusive as the mighty Kutulu beast. What was worse, the poor girl was made to smile through this entire endeavor, forever forced to watch adolescents poop and mock her deformities.

Construction deadlines are unreliable… I’ll need to speak to the foreman.

The restroom is the nexus where all art is made. The real geniuses are hiding out, pooping in dark alleys… they are the dark knights! Imagine a man who was forced to hold on to such negativity. Holding onto such a painful story, such powerful art could tear a man to pieces… even though it would depend on what he ate, or how much time he might have. His art might kill him in the end… better to have a place like the shitter to let it go. People need a place to just let things go; some people find an outlet in sex, or drugs, or respectable creativity, but who’s to say which is right? If a man can hold something sacred, something that keeps him from creating a terrible Kutulu monster and destroying the world, then that is the greatest gift to the world. He has found an outlet, his gift to the world is finding his niche, of making his way through life without being driven insane.


25 thoughts on “ShitHouse Scripture

  1. A Bad Poem About Graffiti
    (Or, is it my graffiti on your blog’s wall?)

    Art that is appreciated by a lot of people sometimes gets moved,
    to the Louvre.
    But I respect the street artiste, masterpieces on walls or trains,
    that take all of their time and pains
    Art that is deliberately offensive or disrespectful,
    should get painted off the wall.
    But poetry, mostly, is lousy, and never goes farther than the trash can,
    I personally would rather not see anatomy or biology taught in a bathroom,
    or tomb.
    But I’d like my poetry to be found all around, bought and paid for, in your living room
    In a bound volume.
    DM, 09/12/2016

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There is are two fundamental notions you fail to mention about art- the sacred and the profane. Sacred art is created to celebrate a thing, but profane art is created to make a mockery of it. If nothing is sacred, than all is profane, and there is no beauty or splendor in anything.
    I disagree with you that God did not give us a manual, because He did in the Scriptures. I do however agree with you that art is everywhere. One artist, a psalmist, once wrote:
    “The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
    And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
    Day to day pours forth speech,
    And night to night reveals knowledge.
    There is no speech, nor are there words;
    Their voice is not heard.”

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I painted for a while, water-colours of historic places in the Hudson Valley, true to their original colours and setting. I researched into history books and city directories to be as accurate as possible. I painted 4×6 and 5×7 mostly, with detail that required that I pluck every hair from a paint brush, save one.
    I exhibited and sold my paintings for a while, for a handsome price. People loved my art.
    Some people loved my art so much (or the money they could make from it) to steal a great deal of it.
    “God” (as you refer to it) did give us a manual. It just wasn’t written in a language that any of us can understand. God is sick that way. But we have a “compass”, a “moral compass”, and if we’re to understand ANY of all of this general bull-shit we all “Life” and appreciate any of the other bull-shit we call “art” we need to find that compass first and learn how to use IT.
    (“compass”: a compound word, I think, comprised of two individual words perhaps some-how related to one another:
    Go figure.

    Thanks for the post/article. I actually appreciate it more than this reply might indicate.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. And to think…I was once entertained by the mere literary genius expressed on bathroom stalls and walls. How intriguing to share in the love, lust and philosophical musings of people I had never met. I always tried to conjure images of their faces in my mind, just so I wouldn’t be pissed that they were interrupting my time of relief frivolously. If I wanted to read I would have brought my book. If I imagined them as real then it was more like gleaning information about distant acquiantances. There was the occasional drawing, like small dots with a pen that had hirlike legs protruding, and the simply profound warning, “Do not sit. Crabs can plevault!’ And an arrow drawn down toward the place I was forced to squat above. How far we have come. It appears I no longer need to bother with the local museum. You do need to give directions to these art galleries…..😉

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Ha! Thanks.
    And perhaps I don’t frequent the most creative bathrooms. I try to avoid most public restrooms and, much like I watch horror films, I am viewing through my fingers (hands covering my face) lol. Unless I am drinking. Then I wouldn’t remember. Hmmmmm.perhaps I shoudl start carrying my art pens along with me….

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s