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Part 11 – Chapter 5

I Push Open The Door To The “Angry Gallery”, Which Overshadowed Most Of The Popular Art Galleries In The City. However, The Exhibited Artists Were Just Regular Guys Like You And Me, With A Little Something Extra: The Desire To Beat Up Anyone Who Annoyed Them. These Were Guys Who Were A Bit On Edge And Needed To Let It All Out. Anger Is A Primal Instinct, And Most People Work On Controlling It, But There’S Nothing Like Exploding It In The Face Of Innocent People, Like Ejaculating Prematurely After A Long November. Halfway Between A Therapy Session And A Popular Outlet, The Work Of These Sunday Artists Was Dripping With The Rage And Faith Of Their Creators. The Studio Down In The Basement Of The Gallery Looked More Like A Psychiatric Ward Than Pablo Picasso’S Laboratory, Where The Soundtrack Made It Seem Like A Mossad Torture Cellar. The Work Here Is Mostly In A Fairly Primal Style, Jumping Between Instinctive Painting Like Basquiat And Contemporary Minimalist Creations, Representing Giant Red Stains On Flawless White Sheets. As If Their Creators Desired A Blood Bath. I Don’T Know If It Really Helped, But Any Initiative Was Worth Taking. For My Part, I Had Sexier Ideas For Clearing My Head.

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