The Palace of Manufactures
Reject art that matches your furniture, like the shit displayed in hotel rooms and lobbies, franchise restaurants, or fucking Pinterest accounts. That art inevitably fades, slowly dissolving into the background of the decaying spaces they inhabit. That art is transitory, eventually drowning in the superficial character of the rooms that contain them.
The art we feature stands apart from spaces, transcending dry-wall, paint hues, and attached décor. It doesn’t match; it distinguishes, it conflicts. It says something to, and about, the person who collects it. It represents a connection between the soul of the artist and the soul of the collector. It is valuable.