Dear Art World,

In their desperation BID to individuate themselves from becoming Part of the Problem in Chelsea, Plus Ultra and Schroeder Romero have asked me to create an installation in their new project space (While I detest the notion of being some kind of second rate circus act in front of two serious shows of genuine art, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to author a joint manifesto for their renewed enterprise of selling art in Chelsea). The piece, Joint Manifesto, is out of their hands. I am interpreting their mission as it should be in a hypothetical, ideal world free from the repulsive influences of fashion and money. This is an uncompromising manifesto. Many may even detest it, but it IS a representation of my brilliance GENIUS. So, I invite you to come look at something that you cannot own.

I know, you can’t believe you are reading this shit. I KNOW, but come on. Everyone is holding their collective breath that the Market won’t collapse this year. Hoping if everyone just ignores the 80’s, collectors will blindly continue to speculate on art objects. Put that aside. Join ME in welcoming Plus Ultra and Schroeder Romero into what Jerry Saltz calls “THE BIG LEAGUE.” It is time for them to take off the training wheels and sell some fucking art, I guess. The overhead is RIDICULOUS! You should really buy something. (I will have some framed drawings available that are AMAZING!...if they’re not all sold by the time you get there.)

I urge you to come on out, it’s almost in New Jersey, but there will be strippers and booze, maybe. Certainly there will be booze, but maybe a rich collector will order strippers from Scores. It’s OK, Feminism is dead. Seriously, I’m another alpha white male with no apparent marginalization, and people show my work? That’s TERRIBLE! If you coked-up stockbrokers must have tits, Ken Weaver has plenty in his show, Royally Fucked at Schroeder Romero. I really need you to come out and help me raise my profile. I’m trying to get on the hot artist lists and in a spread for Vogue. You can help me out by (a) showing up, (b) writing a SPECTACULAR REVIEW, or© sending me a check for a hundred thousand dollars. I would prefer the latter, but I would feel comforted by your presence. Please. My friend just sold a book and escaped middle-class hell. You, the art world, could start my social transformation into a GOD.

Thanks,

William Powhida