Artists or Serial Killers?

Punky, Funky, whistle blowers of the East
Where thinking requires a logical conclusion creativity does not
Under the calm exterior festers change
Change needs a new language very much
Like the Dadaists that morphed into a non-language that presented infinite possibilities.
They are young, beautiful, talented children with hormones raging sitting in front of a little screen, looking at a big chaotic world trying to decipher it.
Electrified be sex, violence and death and destruction, sick with longing
Longing to make marks and gestures that actually convey their firsthand experience this accident called life.
Broken, needing, healing through doing
Afraid only of themselves. Children wanting to be superheroes.
Poets with pointed sharp teeth
Poets with the internet as their muse
Poets of the virtual world on line
Nine third generation revolutionaries having the courage to put aside their egos and celebrate in a triumphal chorus.
As if this young Persians were not artists, they would probably end up as serial killers.
Freydoun Ave
Curator statement for the first exhibition of this group at the Lajevardi Foundation.