In My Art What I Now Live 4 By Ross E F Lombardi

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…In My Art. - What I Now Live 4

By Ross E F Lombardi

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If I were an accountant.

Fully qualified and charted.

I would work from home for under minimum wage per hour.

To devalue the work of all the other accountants.

To piss on their lives and their private schools, mortgages, and happier lives than mine.

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If I were a lawyer.

A good one from Harvard Law.

I would work from home for under minimum wage per hour.

To devalue the work of all the other Lawyers.

Still living in a bedsit and charging so little for my skills

- That the government would still have to subsidise my meagre lifestyle.

Better subsidising me, giving legal advice to others, for next to nothing,

That subsidising landmines that blow the legs off innocent children in showers of blood and horror.

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If I were a doctor.

With my MD and knowledge.

I would work from home for under minimum wage per hour.

To force down the value of all other health care.

To piss on the lives of posh doctors and their love of money, -

Their hopes and dreams of nice cars and holidays abroad.

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If I were a supplier of diamonds, truffles, or gold.

With an endless supply from just dreams, nightmares and vapour mind mist.

I would sell from home and make, for myself, ONLY the minimum wage per hour.

To destroy the system, the market, and all that is around me.

Not for any higher morals or political agenda.

Just because I am angry.

Just for spite.

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But I am none of these…

I am an artist.

An artist full of calculated ice-cold rage.

Who has given up on ever being happy.

Now ask Me again…

…Why I sell my Art so cheap…

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You can ask me,

And I will usually lie to your face.

With a smile.

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But hear what I have just hinted at - for ‘a’ type of truth.

Not the Only truth, but just one of many truths,

And you find the real reason

The real reason I live for.

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I Now live to burn the world and giggle.

To lick the sour ashes and drool over the dust.

With a hard-on in my hand –

…And joyless smile on my painful lips.

If I can never be happy again,

Then FUCK everyone else!

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Now ask yourself again…

…Why I might sell my Art so cheap…

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…Ok

“…In My Art. - What I Now Live 4” : - A translation: (The poem explains why I sell my art so cheap.)

When someone similar to you says something along the same lines as…

“Yeh, What?” “What are you on about?”

I am almost 90% sure that they are not really interested in a real answer…

And 70% that I will just get a silly response such as, “TLDNR”

But it is currently 4 am, on the 21st of Oct, 2024 - And I can't sleep, so just for me to Cut N’ Paste in future, I will answer the question anyway.

Basically, the poem explains why I sell my art so cheaply.

There are 4 reasons to sell my art super cheap…

Currently on 21st of Oct, 2024. For example: I will sell about 8 hours of work on an A2 for only £35.

If you are reading this, years from this date: the prices might have gone up for inflation:

Socialist lefty reasons:

Why shouldn’t people in bedsits and with next to no money like me: Also have access to owning original art:

Why should only rich people get to have original art?

I say,

“Hell No” to that crap!

My low prices mean that NORMAL people can also afford my art:

My art will stay accessible to all and ignore the ‘elitist snobby bullshit agenda’

So, I price it as low as I can so everyone can get it.

But just high enough for it to be valued enough to be looked after by the person buying it.

Practical reasons:

2A ) Earnings:

Due to mental health, I can earn up to a certain amount (as therapy) without it affecting my benefits, too badly.

At the time of writing this (21st of Oct, 2024) I can earn up to 135£ a week (net profit not gross) and it does not affect me at all.

At the time of writing this (21st of Oct, 2024) I can earn up to 216£ a week (net profit not gross) and have to get my benefit reduced by 50p for every extra pound I earn.

There is also a third threshold above that where I lose 1£ per 1£ earned: But I have never earned enough yet to look up what that third upper threshold is.

Side note: There is sick satisfying pleasure I get in filling out a form that reduces my benefits for a month by a small amount: like 50p, knowing it must cost them at least £50 for them to process.

2B) Sales:

I produce so much stuff, that I have not got room to store it all!

And the ideas keep swarming and torturing me for attention to be physically born.

So, I need to make room for new stuff: And I refuse to just destroy stuff.

Anger against the world:

By making myself so cheap, as good as I can make it, it cheapens all other artist original art.

It devalues the market across the board.

Because If I can’t be happy: - Then fuck everyone else!

“IF” I am seen as competition, then they should all create more and create better!

However,

“IF” I am seen as crap: then I am not competing and none of them have any reason to bitch and moan about my prices!

The Main Reason To Rule Them All:

A bigger reason than the first 3 all put together!

Rage and self-harm against myself:

No question: selling eight hours of heart-wrenched work for only £35 IS a form of self-harm!

It is an expression of self-hatred and self-loathing.

A self-inflicted punishment inflicted on “my own self” by “me” for my failure as a husband, man, father, son and human being. – Both professionally, financially and morally.

It is psychologically beating myself to the floor and sticking the boot in my guts repeatedly forever, with no mercy! Stomping on my own head, heart and soul with bother boot! – And laughing at myself sadistically as I do it - at my own pain!

I hate “me”.

I DO so, hate “me”!

I hate myself

I hate “Me” so much!

The potential ‘you can’t win’ responses are:

You are not being fair to other artists:

“If I can’t be happy: - Then fuck everyone else!”

They need to get better!

Your stuff is crap anyway:

Then I am doing no harm and causing no problems for anyone, so just ignore me and let me live out my little shitty life.

“Get help”

There is No help.