Paul Christensen

Remember the Morning Star,_ he enjoined. But I didn__ tell him about Tegg, whose face was the starry void itself...

Fifty grand for a paper bucket? Well it was all about context, you see.

I swear it only hit me then, with full conscious force, who the real villains of this piece had been from start to finish_those lying, cancerous dogs of the mainstream media!

My dreams are all of fire _ mother says dreams usually go by opposites, so does that mean the world will end in ice?

Thom pulled nervously at his __ings_ t-shirt. The Kings are a brutal West African gang that he follows onscreen. Such __ourist shows_, as I understand they are called, have become wildly popular in recent years, as global unrest makes actual travel less popular. Armoured imaging teams, using tiny remote drone cameras known as __lies_, take the viewer inside the violent, gang-controlled regions of Nigeria and Cameroon. Using a touch screen, viewers (or __oners_ as they are sometimes called) can follow the action from multiple angles while cheering on their favourite gang.

He was eager to tell me about his latest work, which consisted of him vomiting on a footpath, then cordoning it off. Each artwork lasted until the first __hilistine_ thought to take the rope down.__n that way, the philistine is drawn _ whether he likes it or not _ into my art. He becomes part of it_and the vomit part of him. Essentially, it is the cosmic vomit. We all spew it. It blurs the boundaries, subverts the liminal_