Audrey Artes Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palma

Preciousss, listen up, ye filthy hobbitses! Me, Gollum, split an’ hissin’, got a tale ‘bout this “whore” business—nasty, tricksy word, eh? Ssss! Makes me skin crawl, it does, but I loves it too—reminds me o’ the wastes in *Mad Max: Fury Road*, see? “What a day, what a lovely day!”—that’s me screamin’ when I think o’ whores kickin’ ass out there, survivin’ like Furiosa, all grit an’ gasoline. Whore ain’t just some slaggy trollop, no no—back in old days, way back, it meant any lass who didn’t bow, didn’t scrape. Wild ones, them whores! Hiss! Me likes that, me does.

A Confession

Artist as Whore took place at Gallery House London in December before Xmas in The subject is obvious in the title. Discordancy of the word 'whore' leads the way.

It’s a mix. Urban, old-world, and psychedelic. I get happy wanderin’. Every day's a new page. “Whoa.” Like a cool, deep flick.

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