Kevin Frost

April: Cruellest Month?

April was a stressful month for me & mine, and then it was a very good month, and then suddenly it became a very very bad month. A cruel month. The cruellest?

April looked like this. OT / Fishface, 2022 I think, MM/paper, about 18x24cm. April ended up looking like this.

I had some business lined up, and it was going to have a big positive effect on the Art Machine and also kickstart the residency project. It’s been a stressful year: this business was supposed to happen last summer, at the very latest, and I’ve been living week by week since then. More debt, less art.

So there was optimism! There was an agreement! There was a contract ready to sign! Everything was thumbs-up and ready to go!

And then the asshat I was naïve enough to be doing the business with backed out, for reasons of previously undisclosed illiquidity, two days before the signing. Insult to injury: this egotist who’d just spend ten days misleading us about his liquidity, and who’d just wasted the time of no fewer then five people, had the gall to call down pity from the Gods because he spent a few quid on his lawyer after all.

Have one Sataaaaaman Google is Not Your Friend, 18x24cm alkyd on HDF, Budapest 2019 (IIRC).

He looks like this. ☝🏽

So yeah, right, anyway it was a hell of a month, a Hell Month, but now it’s another and the verdict is still out on this one. My agent and I now have, I suppose, about two weeks to find another partner and get a contract signed, and while challenging this is not impossible.

And there is much to be thankful for, even in a bad month. My lovely girlfriend; the friends who help me reconstruct my nose after I slam into the wall (metaphorically of course); the early rains portending the monsoon; the hot tropical nights; and of course the paintings: the paintings may slow down, but they don’t stop.

Oh, and dear Whoever May Read This In Close To Real Time: I swear I will get the next Several Artists out this week! Come Hell Week or High Water Week!

Meanwhile I am hoping to get over to the Mango Art Festival twice this week and post some things about that here and on Insta.

In parting, Dear Aether, consider these glory days, when the vast new possibilities unfolding inside our pockets were mostly about optimistic things, and there were Art Apps in the App Store, and we didn’t think we’d all be staring at these fucking things all day every day nor taking duckface selfies at the art museum.


Not sure I’ll ever forgive them for barring us from running plain old FreeBSD on these.