The bodypainting process—and my thought process since 2008 with Artevo—began with the theme of women’s empowerment, but ultimately, it has always been about human empowerment. It was about discovering alternative energy sources—not just literal ones, but spiritual, personal, and societal. If both sexes aren’t operating from their higher selves, the other side will inevitably suffer. Thinkers like David Deida, Ken Wilber, and Wayne Dyer made that crystal clear, and I spent thousands of hours listening to them in the early years of my career. All the music in the sessions came from Lisa Gerrard and her collaborators. We were expressing the deepest truths, putting everything on the line. The foundation was energy and healing—asking questions like: if religion no longer fits, what are the alternatives? If education drains rather than fuels, what can we change? If the current energy source is failing, how about solar? These questions stretched from the soul to the system.
The pinnacle of the feminine-focused part of that journey was the Veena Malik project, after which I realized something was profoundly wrong. Despite major media coverage and critical acclaim from respected voices, the doors to galleries and the museum circuit remained shut—as if I were a ghost or carried some kind of contagious disease. That’s when I began to truly understand the dominant narrative—and where it was heading. There was nothing wrong with the message—only with the form I used to express it. More than once, I was told behind the scenes that if I were a woman, every door would have flown open. Since then, I’ve watched high-level curators and opportunities flow easily to others while remaining firmly closed to me. Cringe-level work—so long as it was made by women, people of color, or anyone checking the right boxes—was hailed as revolutionary. Meanwhile, what I created was dismissed, even after face-to-face meetings. Often by people who wore compassion like a public badge. This might make some sense—if there wasn’t already a long track record of quality, thought process, press, awards, and real-world impact surrounding my work. But there is.
Much like Joe Rogan—who was initially sympathetic to leftist causes and the oppressor–oppressed framework—it took story-breakers like Jordan Peterson, Camille Paglia, Rogan himself, Eric Weinstein, and the so-called Intellectual Dark Web (the only luminous web of thought I’ve encountered, ironically) to expose the rot the left had been hiding behind its polished garage door. I wasn’t blind to the neo-con machinery either—most of my intellectual diet came from left-leaning documentaries and filmmakers. But then, an entirely new dimension of contemporary politics emerged—articulated in ways I had never heard before. And suddenly, everything started making sense. From that point on—especially in the art world—I knew I was truly alone. Not because other artists don’t speak truth in private, but because it had become blindingly obvious just how hypocritical the entire space had become.
So, to the hive-minded gatekeepers in the arts who can’t believe I exist—who are appalled that I dare say these things—you created me. I am the consequence of your bone-headed social constructions, upheld by a silence only matched by morgues. And I’ve realized something you never say out loud: you’re perfectly fine with someone like me starving, with everything I’ve stood for being erased—so long as your story stays intact. You’re right about one thing: I am now your opposition. I gave you nearly 20 years of good faith while remaining (mostly) silent, hoping you’d course-correct. You didn’t. And while I may be the only one saying this out loud right now, you can be certain others will soon join.
Kafka once wrote: “I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party, and I had attended with my real face.”
I’m not ashamed. I never should have been. And I won’t hesitate from here on out to point to who should be.
Work: The Costume Party
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Comes with a signed physical print, if the collector pays cost + postal on top.
