Chapter 20
IPNT Gallery, the Hunnidist
As we have seen, nobody is lucky enough not to be born, everybody is unlucky enough to have been born – and particularly bad luck it is.
-David Benatar
Looking back with out staring, we laugh at and loath “isms” and any form of dogma.
Ne’er reminiscent of 1960’s noir glamour, more mistero giallo then art history, at I Prefer Not To Gallery everyday is a birthday, every night a New Years Eve ambuscade. Missing out, never bothered us: after selling naming rights to Cratesafe, Inc. Venice, Ca. in 2013, IPNT Gallery retired, mostly, because we had what it takes.
Since culture cannot be built from the top down, we threw in the towel. Far from giving up, a new path was taken, becoming a tentscendentalist living camp, the “Pacific Zugzwang“ of “tang ping” (mandarin word for lying flat) an unassailable form a protest, “don’t do something, lay there” our own “Bai Lan” in the days of greed and unabashed corporate mass culture, it’s similar to drowning in #Aloha. Tent pitched tighter then Pitt’s PR. A pure strategic puerile pushback, palliative neglect for a degrading overworked system, where late stage capital and neoliberalism carbon jet set prance in their pricey toxic poopy pants, the colonialist climate is changing. It’s scary cause they use everything up, they “earned” it. Realizing nothing IPNT manufactures is worth commodifying, we decided to keep selling unsellable “ghost art” and “ghost poo” on the dark web, our goal: eschew modern global obfuscation, IPNT’s Life story. This is not concupiscence this is Menschkeit, using distraction of the principal, through stealth-like subterfuge, team IPNT has approached the visually written poetry of our practice in order to create veridical luminosity while shifting adroitly through the agencies of our tenebrous protean wanderings.
Whether smoking dirties with Keanu, working the green room for Jerry Springer, chauffeuring DJ Quick and Rakim off music sets, lubed on Bond St. pitching genderless to Silas Chow, building Par 3 golf courses, befriended by a super mensch NBA owner, meeting International spies on Chinese bullet trains, acquiring and squiring pieces of fine art out of mansions, laying Japanese subsea cable across the India ocean, befriending 90 year olds, receiving advice from once famous shrinks, learning the “fundamentals” of dynamite fishing in the Himalayas, Moss Landing strawberry fields with Vernon Trindad, fucking in tents in tear downs with Ukrainians, kibitzing with “the banned” South African Jewish billionaire, talking story when Holoholo with Dr. Beachy (off Paikos), bantering on Italian beaches with Hollywood aristocracy, getting limber with Suicidal Yoga or just tattooing rich beach kids, we’ve seen the ins and outs of living the artist’s dream. Learning one thing: Celebrating capital, breeds drones, another banal dinner party. A walk down Ivy League lane. Pfffft. We are Drawn onward borrow or rob, drawn onwarD• IPNT Gallery knows the artist is disposable, this truth extends to their work on earth.
The tale is as old as the Eden Tree - and new as the new-cut tooth -
For each man knows ere his lip-thatch grows he is master of Art and Truth;
And each man hears as the twilight nears, to the beat of his dying heart,
The Devil drum on the darkened pane: "You did it, but was it Art ?" -Rudyard Kipling
Proceeding years of practice living the “hunnid” life, this is art on vacation forever, refusing to breed after over 5,000 missed opportunities to date, we want the world to know, some will not, even when can. Furthermore by avoiding “the” procedures and policies of modern existence which has allowed team IPNT the ability to “Tang Ping” while living on the carbon low down while playing the “Bai Lan” 13 string bango, saving turtles, taping, when can’ing, riding bikes, walking the “secret” 22 Huku and keeping a dirty’ clean day to day. Aiming to prove that not breeding while on eternal retirement doesn’t suck, you can’t stop pure fortitude, a clean conscience, the cleanest wave, the eternal meow, the ever present. Up for the duration, trip’n, slide’n, holoholo’n into the zombie apocalypse, our team is on ghostly display. Peoun for Peoun, more ne’er then pe’er (PR), base to tip’ist we are site specific pacific hunnidist.
*Please submit all questions to our publicist. 13 month wait list.
**All manufacturing authentically outsourced to one industry professional Portuguese on oxygen in Moss Landing, California.
***The declining number of college students getting degrees in literature is a troubling sign of the times. In our divided age, it is more important than ever for people to learn the art of reading with imagination and empathy – without the blinders of politics or religion.