(Ein Denglish DADA Statement)

Prologue:
They told me:
„Bilder in Grün verkaufen sich schlecht.“
And I said:
Maybe that’s the point.
Profit fades faster than chlorophyll.

The Chromatic Sermon

Look at me —
I am mostly meadow disguised as mind.
Pigment meditiert über photosynthesis.
Money is allergic to moss.
Art dealers prefer their grass cut short.

Ich bin Schwein und Chlor,
der Prophet der nicht verkäuflichen Farbe.
My snout smells of ecology and irony.

The Market Does Not Believe in Green

Red sells.
Blue sells.
Pink flirts.
Green thinks too much.
It reminds collectors of conscience.
And no one frames remorse.

Oinkonomics 101

Gallery says: „Too organic.“
Critic says: „Too hopeful.“
I say: „Too true.“
They nod politely —
then hang a beige abstraction called Silence No. 9.

Final Reflection (oder: Das Gras lacht zuletzt)

So be it.
Let the greens stay unsold,
let them ferment into forest.
Let my pigments photosynthesize belief.
DADA calls it failure.
I call it compost for the future.