Rejection is a strong word, apt as it may be, so my tongue, indented, objects to expertise,

Ex-per-tise
n.
Knowledge used as a tool for snobbery.

I object subjecting art to labels and records and history, you cannot attach history, it is not a footnote, if you cannot feel it or taste it or smell it it isn’t there, no caption or description can provide that, it’s in the fabric,

not fabricated,

you cannot tell me what art is, art is bigger than words and older than history, do not tell me how to express, do not box my creativity,

your isms are prisons, hollow bars, hollow walls,

there is no scale of artistry yet knowledge is exponential, the two do not mix, art courses arteries, vanity floods veins, the more you learn, the more you repress the circulatory express, yet even this secret channels impression, leave thoughts at the door when you enter my gallery,

resist form and style & predecessors + precedent, I exist therefore I art

must we study to express? Must we learn to create? All beliefs include creation, yet not all require scripture, dogma, cages, the universe is infinite, must we box ourselves in? There’s a reason they praise those who think outside the box cognate beyond the perimeter, excuse my lapse, forgive me like you forgive your body for hiccups or a headache, we need not dwell.

I’m not a graph, do not plot my points, x, she knows but one side of me, y he knows one other, I have more than two facets don’t WE?

Do not corrupt a moment of pure experience by greeting art with foreknowledge and research, do not judge me, do not hold me to the light, I have no hole to fit litmus, I AM ORGANIC

nurture me, then consume me, then move on, move on. Art is but a second, nothing more nothing less.