One must give credit to my insufferable friend Currado Malaspina. He keeps up with the times, marching doggedly, (and awkwardly), into the sparkly labyrinth of social media.
He's got his fuzzy, fleshy ear to the ground, updating his apps, upgrading his apparatuses and regularly adding addenda to the constellation of his neocolonial technological reach.
Look him up on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, AppleTalk, Bailiwick, CreateTT, DogWhistle, Evite, I-Friends, Goodreads, eHarmony, IntelPPro, JDate, KindleCommunity, Linkedin, eMore, eNough, OfficeCaddy, PaintersTalk, QueerConnect, Reference.com, Savvy, Tinder, Upromote, Vimeo, WordsWithFriends, Xannoymous,YouTube or ZZZ and you'll see what I mean.
This is a silver chromed age where egoism and insignificance are fastened like bolts. Malaspina's supple conceptual range allows him to produce tons of mediocre work in a variety of tropes and methods. When he's not making room-size installations with rainforest trees and scented dirt or filming himself wading in the Ganges wearing a lime green suit, he's painting cheerful vistas of Père Lachaise.
His naked opportunism and his propensity to share has lost him all but a few loyal friends. People are simply afraid to be implicated within his overexposed personal narrative.
Currado is the driverless car of the art world and what he has lost in friendships over the years he has gained a hundredfold in his galactic association of bovine followers.
He used to be lively company full of wit and intelligence. Now all he seems capable of saying is:
VIVE
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
