Why the Future of Painting Is as Accessible as Music

Over the past two years, I’ve painted live for over 600 hours—rambling, reflecting, and reaching for something honest in the mess. Now, with the help of my little robot who listened to every second, you can hear the audio version of those mumblings—edited just enough to make sense (most of the time).

Art Without Gates: A Manifesto for What’s Coming.

They used to say... "You have to be there."
As in—physically. As in—wealthy.
As in—you need to be in the room. With the painting. With the power.
But that’s changing. It has to.
// IS changing.

Because art—the kind that shifts your breath, widens your ribcage, swallows you whole—
...is too important to be owned.

Let me say it louder.

ART IS TOO IMPORTANT TO BE OWNED.

We’ve seen this before...
📡 Music.
You used to need a record. A player. A room.
Now? Every track ever made is inside your pocket—
Identical.
Whether you’re broke or Bezos.

You press play—and it’s all there.
Same sound. Same fidelity. Same goosebumps.
That’s not a glitch. That’s the future.

So what if painting follows?
No more museum-only.
No more $12,000 tag on the "real" experience.
No more gatekeeping the moment art meets your gut and says—
"This is yours."

I know—believe me—I know.
I’m a painter.
I mix pigments with breath.
I lose hours to texture. I bleed into linen.
But this shift? It’s not betrayal. It’s transcendence.

Because when I paint, what I’m really chasing...
...isn't prestige.
...isn’t permanence.
...it’s connection.

And connection doesn’t care where you are.
It only cares that you feel it.
And if a high-res screen, a digital window, a scrolling feed can carry the same heartbeat across oceans...
...then what the hell are we waiting for?

This isn’t about replacing the original.
This is about lifting the ceiling off of art itself.
Turning galleries into gateways.
Making the best of us available to all of us.

So one day, a kid in Jakarta with a cracked tablet—
...can stare into color and know what I meant.
Can stand, in silence, and feel the same rush a collector in London does.
Same heat. Same ache.
Same exact thing.

That’s equity.
That’s arrival.
That’s... next.

Don’t mistake this for dilution.
This is distribution.
Of wonder.
Of beauty.
Of the things we should never keep to ourselves.

So yes. I’ll keep painting.
And yes. I’ll keep scanning, uploading, sharing.
Because maybe art doesn’t want to be possessed.
Maybe it just wants to be understood.

And that future?
...Is already here.