It’s shaped like a drop and it’s called Mister Drop. Who is Mister Drop? Simply put, he’s a bullshit detector, somebody that accepts no shit whatsoever. So, every time you are faced with something fake or simply imbecilic, Mister Drop comes at your rescue. Look at him as a shield against the germinal stupidity of fashion, contemporary art and marketing. His sarcastic, sometimes vitriolic humor makes fun of all those objects du désir whose impalpable distance has been always orchestrated to make you feel unworthy and miserable.
Don’t you think we are all condemned to a visual inferno, a tornado of false needs promoted by the obscure Establishment of Bad Taste? Do you realize we all are in constant adoration of the Great Void? The luxury world is particularly nasty in pushing for glittering junk and all sort of neatly-packaged-cheap-stuff, an old trick to attract the social climber aspiring to unattainable nobility. The poor bastard doesn’t even imagine that luxury is for the poor. That’s what Mister Drop calls the ‘Golden Shit’.
If you feel sick and insulted by the anachronistic vulgarity of opulence, if you think the world is full of deceit and you don’t mind a less sophisticated life and – most of all – if you are ready to renounce to that programmable, i-phone operated, Swarovski-studded, multi functional pasta-maker aboard your second yacht you call tender, then you’re a potential fan of Mister Drop and his iconoclastic, very basic, humor.
Below: Mister Drop also speculates about the real value (not the price) of Contemporary Art. He’s shocked by a market that’s gone banana with its bluffs. How can it be possible to pay million dollars for a dark red canvas? Mister Drop respects Markus Rotkowičs’ work (Rothko for his friends) but anyone can paint a dark red canvas. This fact helps to explain the wide offer of fake Rothko available on the market. You can have one for a few thousand dollars, or paint one yourself for less than a hundred. Let’s face it guys, some people should drop their brush, their pants and their mask. The party is over.