“From my hands, my mission: To free the oppressed; to champion the persecuted, and the submissive; to liberate through revelation the actualized Self in those proposed by some to have no self at all. It’s in every single one of us, somewhere underneath that word on our chest.
In my hands, my version: All art is political in some sense, be it through conformity, reflection, propaganda or rebellion. My paintings are rallies and trials, photographs of a moment when Truth was made public, and Mercy known.
Question why a villain is villainized, a victim martyred. Ask why a group is demonized, and the motives for control. See for yourself what the truth looks like in your hands. Dig it up and hold it for a while. This work you see, it’s my Truth. But please don’t take my word for it.” – Chris Mars
Chris Mars is more than a genius artist, he is a philosopher and a human rights activist- all through his art.This is one of the reasons why I like his statement so much, another one being that he pushes his art beyond human perception. The fact that his family was struck with mental illness and he directly suffered from the labels put by a barbaric society,made his message stronger than any other artist.
All of his life he struggled to define and explain what “monster” means .I’ve always felt that to him monster is not a mere physical handicap but it rather represents those perverted humans that take advantage of the innocent,the monstrous souls that might have a perfect body though.
At first glance all of his art is disturbing-the paintings,the pastels even the short films.Everything seems stained with disease and poisonous drugs;the characters all seem weak and close to death.There is one thing though-after you watch those paintings over and over again a sudden emotion covers you and you realize that those monsters are victims.Victims like you and me in the face of this fake society.
“When my brother Joe was fifteen years old, he was institutionalized for schizophrenia. He saw things, he heard things. Were these monsters? Was he?
Through some thirty years of his treatment, he encountered compassionate souls, both fellows and caregivers. He was also neglected and exploited by individuals and a system more interested in commerce and statistics than his very well-being. Were these exploiters monsters? He was fifteen. I was five. I went to see him. Did he see monsters? Or did I?