Only an artist can think of fake demons and deviant lovers on one day, and the beauty of a disaster on the next day.
This is one of my windows, the entirety of which was shattered as if a bomb went off. This happened less than five feet away from where I was working.
I vote for the person who said it was the building settling.
But oh what an opportunity! In the process of becoming artists, we learn to copyright, watermark and otherwise protect our work while telling people who and where we are.
Of course the lucky suckers who get discovered in Schwabs drugstores across the globe get to have others do the street level hustling for them.
We love the art, hate the hustle and despise having to hawk our wares. But more than anything, we hate it when people take our shit and use it without paying their dues.
So here it is!
A life in the life of an artist!
Disaster as beauty.
Art advertisement as art.
Let the good times roll! It is surely the apacolypse.