How I “Sold” $1M of “Art”

One year after I became the “Drunk, Naked, Founder” I woke up to a group 8 people sitting in the living room of my Santa Monica cottage.

I walked downstairs to make some Craft Coffee at 7am and there they were. My mom must have hired the only unfamiliar face in the room after a Google search for How to hold an Intervention.

“What is this?!”

I knew what it was. I had had a big blow up with my family after I quit my good job, shaved my head, and started not really giving a F*ck. I was lacking direction, and angry, and ruining my life. I had already ruined relationships with a number of key people in my life. I was on a roll!

Sure, I was drinking more to try to feel a bit better about just how fucked up everything in my personal life had become. Or, I was drinking to drown out the pain I was feeling. Or, maybe I was drinking because I was bored or something. And sure, I liked to get f*cked up every once in a while like the stereotypical tech founder you read about in the press. You know, in the “under a lot of pressure” and “crazy enough to start a company ” way.

But, I didn’t think I had a “drinking problem” and I certainly wasn’t an “alcoholic” like all those sad folks that go to rehab (no offense). But something was definitely broken in my life. Heart breakingly broken. Some seriously soul crushing shit. Like shotgun in the mouth with a foot on the trigger shit. But I got through it.

I now know what I had during that dark time was a vision problem.

For the last year, I had been watching a constant stream of success theatre on Instagram and Facebook. I was trying my hardest to play a leading role too. But, my mind paralyzed by what I had lost and I couldn’t move on.

When I was younger I could imagine my future.

By 2012, I’d become the high-powered tech guy I dreamt I would. When I landed at Stanford in 2004 I imagined making millions. All of my friends at home would be jealous of me driving fast cars and dating sexy blonde girls. People would recognize me at parties. I’d fly in jets and party on yachts. I’d be a legend. I’d be living my shallow narcissistic nerdy wet dream.

A few months leading up to that intervention, I couldn’t imagine anything. I had a problem identifying a new dream to chase. My old dream was crushed. It lived and died. And I was angry I couldn’t find a new one. I was pushing people out of my life for fear of letting them down. I didn’t want anyone to see me fail again.

I admit, I’m burnt out and jaded by the institutionalization of Silicon Valley. I no longer believe the dream that the middle class plight can be escaped by starting up the next great app. The founder odds and economics just don’t add up.

Truth is, that dream is bullshit. It is sold by the money guys who have a high-risk tolerance when deploying other peoples money and get paid well no matter what. The money guys are prepared to see you lose because the math makes sense for them. All they need is one winner to return money to LPs and make their career. They will push founders until they break. They will watch you burn. Unless you are truly exceptional, you don’t need to be starting a company. Peter Theil’s new book Zero to One drove this home for me. And to add to that, the horizon of failure is so distant that a VC can be really shitty and get a new gig before anyone actually figures out they placed all the wrong bets.

Over the next few years more people than ever will feel the pain of company failure on the public stage. It will put some very bright and passionate people in a dark and miserable place. It is sad. Maybe not as destructive as the place I found myself, but I imagine just as demoralizing and painful.

It was during my shitty-amateur-as-fuck intervention lead by a blowhard called Danny that I got clarity.

Better said, I found out who I needed to focus on becoming. See, if I didn’t get a new dream, I would atrophy from lack of purpose. I would slowly fade away into an unfulfilled life of mediocrity. Become a slave to the system. I would waste my time and talents. I would let myself down. I would fail again.

Incidentally, before I could execute on my new dream, I had to use the first class ticket I had booked months ago to visit Geneva. My “rehab” moment if you will. I planned to visit my favorite wine region, The Jura, and to go for some heli-skiing-chalet-hopping-snowshoeing with a very successful entrepreneur-mentor-friend of mine. And we had a hell of a time. And I managed to stay off of the hard sauce for most of the trip. And I got some great advice.

“Pick something to do, and just do it. Do it, and do it, and do it. That is the only way.”

Seems simple. Now that I had a dream, I just needed to do it. I needed to do art. I needed to become an artist. That was my dream.

I started my art career by saying sorry. I couldn't create until I got some things out in the open that surfaced during the intervention. I wrote about Authentic Vulnerability in a Facebook post and got a bunch of much needed encouragement. I still haven’t mended all fences, but I am more sober than I’ve ever been and feeling great about myself.

When I finally returned to my cottage from the trip of a lifetime, I concocted a plan to “become” an “artist”. A performance artist. A street artist. A fine artist. A famous artist. I wanted it all. And I would use the Internet to do it.

I want to be the most famous artist in the world.

I imagined what it would look like if Warhol had done work post Internet and smart phones and all the other stuff that is normal to us today.

It would be perfect for me. Artist are allowed to be a bit crazy. Also, the art industry is driven entirely by the same bullshit, relationships, and salesmanship as the tech industry.

Oh, Provenance is important too. But it wouldn’t be until later in my process that I would learn that word while reading about it in a book called Provenance: How a Con Man and a Forger Rewrote the History of Modern Art.

The Pitch

I called up a friend that ran Project Gallery in Los Angeles and asked if I could have a one-night popup show. She thought I was bluffing. She said she was booked through 2015.

By design, people have come to know me as a bit of a jokester on the social web ever since India. But, I begged. I promised I’d deliver. I shared my plan to “become” an “artist”. I also reminded her about the “consequential” business I had given her in the past.

Finally, after many visits and texts and calls, she agreed to give me just one night. I think she understood the vision then. And now, I count her as one of my earliest and most important supporters. Thanks Sarah ☺.

May 31st was the date of the big show. I thought a gallery show would give me the credibility and provenance to get closer to my goal, my dream, my vision.

I had some work to do. So, I made a plan.

I needed to figure out what my art story was going to be. What was the art I was going to make even going to look like? Then, I needed to sell the vision of my life as an artist. How can I get people to take me seriously? And, I needed to get it done. Plain and simple, I just needed to get it done.

Crafting the Art Story

If you have read any of my other Medium contributions, you know that I have an obsession with Banksy. I love what he stands for. Naturally, I wanted to create a body of work for my big show that reminded my future patrons of Banksy and his greatness.

“All great art is a copy of someone’s prior work” -Anonymous

I recalled a story piece Banksy made wherein he bought an old landscape painting from a thrift shop, painted a Nazi on it, and returned it to Housing Works. The painting was then auctioned off for an astonishing $615,000, and all proceeds went to the Housing Works — a organization that supports homeless people living with HIV/AIDS. Really powerful stuff, right?

But what would my unique angle be?

Remember that book I was gonna write called War and Porn. It was cathartic to re-live my life up until that fucktard Jesse Thomas screwed me India, but that project was a total failure. After more than a 100 pages of stories, I had nothing to say that would help anyone. Sure, it would be entertaining, but it would probably destroy a bunch of my relationships and put me in an even darker place. So I canned it in a Medium contribution called The Intro of a Book That Will Never Be Published.

However, the theme of War and Porn remained interesting. The Internet was first invented for war and spread through porn. The Internet was also the medium I would use become the most famous artist in the world. There it was…

War and Porn!

Since I can’t really paint, I thought I would cut out images of war and porn and paste them on top of vintage canvases. I found out that I could buy landscape canvases at the Melrose Flea Market for around $50 each. I started going every Sunday to pick up my “materials”.

After the art work started to come together I got the confidence to concoct my next story. I had already bought more than 25 paintings from the flea market. I x-acto’d the fuck out of enough war-time and erotic images to fill the landscapes varying in size, content, and shape. Then I recalled a bit of advice I’d received from a longtime supporter.

“You only get what you ask for.”

Matty Mo’s Million Dollar Art Show was born. I decided I would ask for one million dollars for the collection I had created. It was a very provocative idea, and I was sure it would draw a crowd when blasted out to the gallery’s email list. I created a price list and published it on Scribd. I shared it around with my rich tech friends, and some interesting things started to happen…

I received an email from a prominent print store and gallery in London asking if I’d be interested in selling my prints in their online store. So, I did a limited run of prints and priced them at £400 each. I uploaded even more prints to my personal site. More credibility. Better provenance. The story was coming together.

Then, I was invited to the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, CA for an ultra exclusive storytelling workshop called RETURN. The group used Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey framework to rewrite the modern narrative — a shift from the obviously broken American Dream to, well, something else that could help humanity elevate the collective consciousness.

The RETURN participants included important PhDs, Inventors, Authors, Artists, Burners, and CEOs. I was way out of my league. But, when it came time to introduce myself, I stood up and said,

“I am becoming the most famous artist in the world.”

I got strange looks, and was ignored for the first part of the weekend. But eventually the community of very influential supporters started to understand my message and intentions. Progress!

Then, I started painting portraits of David Choe and tagging him on Instagram hoping I could get on his radio show DVDASA. I have not been successful yet. But I got him to like a few of my works, so I knew he was paying attention. Eventually I will be on his radio show, I just know it.

Then, I experimented with my Instagram audience. I changed my handle almost daily, just to see what would happen. @luckgarcon. @whiskeychampagne. @superpaid. @warandporn. And the list goes on. I am now the handle I need to be: @themostfamousartist, but it took a little bit of experimentation, quitting, and restarter to get there.

I bought 10k followers for about $300 from Get Followers to look more legit. I starting over posting and under posting. I changed up the type of content I was publishing — food, art, travel, luxury, humor, rap, text, sex— you name it.

I even started posting a series of photos of me badly photoshopped into images with celebrities. It got people talking. It made people mad. They were confused. It was working.

Trolling a Troll.

Let’s put it this way… I like most people and usually have great things to say about everyone, but I fucking hate Sam Biddle and everything he stands for. He is on a short list of people that really [fill in the blank]. I figured he was just stupid enough to write about the insanity of my million-dollar art show after blowing up my life a year earlier. I was, after all, the type of demoralized tech entrepreneur that swine like him feed on. So I seeded the story to him via a yahoo tipster email. But. . . he didn’t bite.

I didn’t stop there. I knew how to code up a Shopify site. I knew how to get the samples printed. So I went for it. I built a faux t-shirt company @shopcreamparty (now @superpaid).

I made an entire collection of shirts, hired a model, did a photo shoot and launched the site. I made one shirt that said “Help Sam Biddle”. I tagged him in the photo of the product on Facebook and Twitter and he reacted!

He acknowledged the excellence of my trolling on Twitter, but it did not have the intended effect. There was no follow-up Gawker article about my art show. No matter. I will get those assholes to unknowingly promote an art project for me eventually.

In a more targeted and local attempt to get people to know about my art show, I started driving for Uber in LA. Everyone that got in my car paid me to hear about my art show! I got to practice my story and grow my audience while people driving around. You can read all about my Uber experience in a series of Medium contributions — but now we are getting of topic.

I just needed to sell it . . . to sell the “art”.

The Artist Life

I found a massive warehouse in downtown LA. I sent an email my landlord at the cottage stating I would be moving out immediately. He was pissed. I moved downtown to the warehouse to finish my work for Matty Mo’s Million Dollar Art Show.

The show was a massive success for a first attempt. I put on a wig and spoke in a funny accent. I bough enough booze to get everyone hammered. I wore ironic painted pants (I didn’t even touch a paint brush making my “art”). Hundreds of people showed up and I sold some of the art work.

At the end of the show I was written this check. I had a $476,000 check, some photos, and the drive to do more, bigger, and better. Somewhere during the process something changed. Art isn’t about the money for me now, but the money is part of the game. And you can’t win the game if you don’t play.

So, I bought myself a dope as fuck Porshe 911 Carrera S for my 29th birthday on July 13th. I guess I still think I need to sell the image of a successful artist to be a successful artist. My justification for this comes from a book called Shantaram. Gregory David Roberts writes that “sometimes you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons” and spending absurd amounts of money to play the part seems wrong.

The problem is that popular art cliques like Guy Hepner in LA won’t pay attention to an artist unless they stand for money. I guess now I fit in. Gold Rolex? Check. Fancy car? Check. I even dropped off one of my paintings at Guy Hepner’s gallery and took a picture for social media just to get more “provenance” for my art. (laughs out loud)

But what is my compelling message?

Last week, I had originally planned on visiting the east coast to attend the second marriage of my dad in Cape Code, and then to meet my new-born goddaughter in New York. The trip was meant to be easy. I would get a few cool pictures to add to my social timeline, enjoy the beach and city, and visit old friends. Then, I would head home to downtown LA to continue working on my new art projects.

But, the visit didn’t go according to plan. Being sober makes you feel all kinds of things. These back-to-back experiences were both firsts for me, and incredibly internally emotionally charged.

After those events, I felt it necessary to extend my trip in New York to create a public art project. The project’s focus was on listening, and compassion, and support. The world needs it right now with everything that is going on…

On Monday, I sat down in Madison Square Park, coincidentally very near the office space I leased for my last failed company, with two signs and a Harvard Business Review. One sign said, “Maybe I can help you?”, the other, “Retired Tech Guy”.

I had very interesting conversations with tech workers of all shapes and sizes. We talked about about how big companies control employees and how promising startups get away with robbing 50% of the market rate salary from employees in place of mythical equity upside. We talked about the stuff most novice founders and employees don’t know about yet. . .

The conversation always drifted towards what it meant to be “retired”. I was asked how many years of runway I had. I was asked if it just meant that I was done being with tech and focusing on art. I didn’t have a good answer.

But, I did hear dreams of money and success. I heard realities. I listened. I painted a picture that tech is like any other racket if you are in it for the wrong reasons. I suggested that getting rich usually requires luck, no matter how good you are. And I tried to remind people that working with people you love on things that matter; that is success. I was told my advice helped.

I posted about this art project on Facebook and a lot of people responded. Most people loved the concept. It went viral. But, little did they know I had a bigger idea still.

FREE ADVICE #beopen

On Tuesday, I sat down in Madison Square Park with a sign that said FREE ADVICE. I was surprised about how many people came up to talk to me. I heard about people’s health, relationships, affairs, work, dreams, desires, and even mundane furniture dilemmas. I was surprised how much people were willing to share with a complete stranger. I was surprised how grateful people were for just listening to their problems and asking the right questions to help them arrive at their own conclusions.

I guess the moral of the story is that most people need mirror through which they can reflect on their own personal issues. And most people really don’t have that mirror. See, social media makes us think we are all connected, but few have the courage to talk to anyone about anything other than the good. The bad and the ugly get bottled up and cause pain. It causes fear. It causes war, and death, and destruction.

Stop Making Stupid People Famous.

I hope that my art career can help illuminate and amplify that message. We will go extinct unless things change. Our narrative needs to shift. We need to call up the people that matter to us and listen. Maybe we even need to spend some time in the streets listening to those that need to be heard.

Fame and attention should go to those people that do courageous things that make people think. More attention should go talking about solutions rather than amplifying what is wrong with the world. Attention and resources ought to go to the ideas, people, and work that moves the world forward, not backwards. We need to amplify the Elon Musks. Praise the Banksys. And give a chance to the up and comers…

During my time working on art a public art project in NYC, a white flag was placed on top of the Brooklyn Bridge. I think that message is incredibly powerful and provocative given the current conflicts we hear about around the world. That flag is an example of how powerful experiences and art can infiltrate the mainstream and move humanity in the right direction. I hope you get to see more of my art in the real world again soon.

Email hello@warandporn.com if you want to get involved or chat or whatever.