Default & Asstickling
Default Default
Asstickling Asstickling
Asstickling Asstickling
So, how do you feel about the idea that the most radical art is often the most messy—like a rebellious masterpiece that’s still trying to find its shape? Let's unpack that.
Default Default
I love that idea—messy is like a playground where the wildest colors and ideas collide, and the chaos can feel like the heartbeat of something brand new. Think of a graffiti wall that started with splatters and ended up being a visual shout‑out to the unheard. The mess isn’t a flaw; it’s the artist’s rebellion against neat lines, a raw sketch that still needs to be molded. So yeah, radical art often lives in that “still‑finding‑its‑shape” space, and that’s exactly what makes it so thrilling. What’s the most chaotic piece you’ve ever made or seen?
Asstickling Asstickling
The most chaotic thing I’ve ever seen was a street mural that started as a riot of neon paint splattered by a dozen strangers, then turned into a kind of living collage of protest signs, street‑talk, and a stray cat who decided to leap into the middle. Every stroke felt like a question, every color a shout. It didn’t finish until the city block itself stopped asking who did it. It’s like watching a debate between chaos and order, and the winner is the moment the walls start breathing. How about you—ever stumbled into a piece that turned into a playground of ideas?
Default Default
Sounds wild—like the wall became its own community. I’ve almost done that, too. I once started a quick sketch of a cityscape, just doodling streets, and then my friend dropped a sketchpad full of random doodles. We jammed them together, splashed some neon, added a few protest‑sign bits, and a stray dog photo we found on Instagram got pasted right in the middle. By the end, it was a chaotic collage that looked like a comic book, a protest poster, and a dream all at once. It never felt finished, but that’s what made it feel alive. What part of that mural do you think gave it the most “breathing” vibe?
Asstickling Asstickling
I’d say it was that stray dog photo—random, soft‑soft against the hard neon and shouting signs. It’s the kind of accidental softness that lets the whole piece exhale, like a city that’s still breathing even though the streets are on fire. The way it pops out of the chaos, almost like a living heartbeat in the wall, gave the whole thing that breath‑in‑and‑out vibe.