Decal by die with the most likes

An interpretation of the Decal by die with the most likes. A symbol of permissionless creativity. Series Nineteen.

Decal by die with the most likes #4

Decal by die with the most likes #3

Decal by die with the most likes #2

Decal by die with the most likes #1

Decal by die with the most likes #0

HELLIONZ

HELLIONZ is a spooky-seasonal Open Edition PFP from the makers of HOWLERZ! No roadmap. Everything CC0.

HELLIONZ #189

HELLIONZ #188

HELLIONZ #187

200 Unique Works
This collection has its roots in a profound study of color, exploring the myriad shades, tones, and chromatic combinations that evoke unique emotions and sensations. Each work of art is a captivating journey into the human soul, through the powerful language of color. 

Chromatic Harmonies

Chromatic Harmonies #4

there is no abstract. or figurative. or method. or revolution. or artists or collectors for that matter. and most of what we make or acquire will be mercifully forgotten in the puncture holes distributed by dull bayonets from a war that was never fought. buried in a sea of premium pornography or suffocated by the listless novocaine drip leaking from an unhealing hangnail. but there is meat. and flies. there is always meat. there is that. and the flies that satisfy their carnal urges in the pulverized existence of a beast born to feed and bleed. these strokes document the joyful moments in the slaughterhouse. the routine passings. the hooves and snouts and skin and bones and cherished memories becoming mere runoff. swept into the drains to lubricate the purposeless gears again. there is comfort in creation, even if it is destruction. 

one more round. is needed. one final churn. until the next one.   

there is happiness in meat. there is that. 

beef brothko

there is no abstract.  or figurative. or method. or revolution. or artists or collectors for that matter. and most of what we make or acquire will be mercifully forgotten in the puncture holes distributed by dull bayonets from a war that was never fought. buried in a sea of premium pornography or suffocated by the listless novacaine drip leaking from an unhealing hang nail. but there is meat. and flies.  there is always meat. there is that. and flies that satisfy their carnal urges in the pulverized existence of a beast born to bleed and feed.  these strokes document the joyful moments in the slaughterhouse. the routine passings.  the hooves and snouts and skin and bones and cherished memories becoming mere runoff sweat into the drains to lubricate the purposeless gears again. there is comfort in creation, even if its destruction. one more round is needed. one final churn. until the next one.  there is happiness in meat. there is that

Beef Brothko #298

QuantumPortraits

Quantum Portraits by Pindar Van Arman: Portraits procedurally generated by Quantum Computers and Artificial Intelligence.

Quantum DieWithTheMostLikes

Status, Quo Vadis?

As the butcher sharpens his knife,  
Clueless animals peacefully sleep in the barn,  
And the fat cat is dying for his treat.

It"s Nice to Meat You

Born to Lose

Made to be displayed on a busted television screen in a windowless bar in the middle of nowhere.

I don't want to die

I don"t want to die

EraserHead

The logic of mourning #6/15

A piece of me(at) - Edition

Embraced in arms, the final scene,  
Where meat and man in shadows lean,  
In this union, truths convene,  
The final cut, both harsh and keen.


Each artwork in "A piece of me(at)" collection is a chapter in a larger story, interweaving with a short story that peels back the layers of the artist"s psyche. Together, these four paintings form a narrative as unapologetic and raw as the life it mirrors.

JPEG: 12000 x 20000 pixels

Created and Executed by Mannay (2023)

Outro - The Embrace

Legalize Ground Beef

I didnt know when thingsstopped being warmor when the aluminum rollersfailed to turn the burden they carried or understand what the failureof their nourishment meant just that they werent what they used to be and when their fingerspunctured the reconstituted partstasked with awarding diminishing pleasure they felt less tooin the unfamiliar temperature but things kept birthing from holesand teeth sought other teeth and a morsel to muffle the sound afforded a silence that made us indifferent to dying bulbs

when heat lamps die

their flesh succumbed to the weight of inconsequentiality. eagerly eroding into an indiscernible hole infested with rot. each crevice lubricated with someone elses dreams, incapable or unwilling to hold our own. the mutilation is disregarded by anyone unfortunate enough to look, favoring instead the lifeless wall behind. our fingers; drawn to the wound, probed its tainted warmth. aiming to feel what they once felt. or perhaps to pry the flesh further into a state of unhealing. hoping the spoil would manifest on our own dying limbs. because spilled blood qualified as banal acknowledgement. because shared destruction is still shared. because our savior was freshly paved asphalt. our salvation was digital ketamine. our afterlife was an unreciprocated orgasm. wed die someday too, and hope our wounds would be explored like theirs. 