Panel Three of the Triptych; “Birth, Death... aaand Action”. This love letter to New York City where Vincent D’Onofrio forged his artistic journey since the Eighties to the present day. Collaborating with Laurence Fuller, in the new mediums of poetic cinematic fine art, to create a story in three panels ~ redefining the concept of the triptych in contemporary digital art. This body of work is the genesis of their new artistic partnership Graphite Method ~ www.graphitemethod.xyz Now get off my stage the master says. You’ve just learned a lesson. You can't own being an artist. That's the truth. You can't buy it. Not in youth. Sell it because you need the money. How will you pay rent. How will you eat. How will you pay your bills. BAM!! you are hit with these burdens. Yet you have nothing. Sell your snake oil to the best bidder. Take the money and run. Feel like a fraud. This universal feeling that all green artist suffer from. Suffering. Delightful isn't it. It ain't. You are wrapping yourself up with every artist that has ever caught your eye or ear. The green cocooning. Waiting to feel comfortable enough to have a full and healthy, unhealthy ego. The beginning of the story.   Fiction mostly until time makes it nonfiction. Time makes you a lighter shade of green. Speak to yourself constantly. It's a healthy dose of lunacy. Your environment can bury you deep. Hide you. Dig holes to breath you're told. Breath seems to be the necessity for what experienced artists need. They speak to themselves about it constantly. Put an ear to it. It is what you'll over hear as they covet their abilities to survive while producing art, while birthing ideas of what has been told before and forgotten. Not now, just heard or unheard. Close or or just too distant. Learned then unlearned. Do the piece again. Do the play again. Say the thing again. There is no care when it comes to what has come before you. An audience will sit because something, anything is presented or even just a chair to sit for a moment. This is no secret. The obvious and barely clever. Provide a chair for them to sit and watch and listen. Ta da!!! an audience. A good prompt. A great poster. A hand to lead them. Now you have them. Let them smile. Let them hate, let them judge while the play, your play sneaks up on them. Play always. It's in you. Fuck me you've told them a story. Have you done it right? Spit out those thoughts they don't belong in you. Let the audience decide. It belongs to them now. Do not waste your imagination by using it to conjure up demons. This is not the work. The job at hand. The long looks you give the successful people around you. The long looks that you have convinced yourself are the attempt to touch greatness. Not yet knowing that you are being sold the snake oil, you yourself are learning to sell. That's good, that's alright. If you're lucky your audience may be moved, may be taken one day. Should you celebrate? Hell yes! You have reminded them of their imperfections. Yes scream out. It is you that will remind them that there is in fact an escape hatch. That a hero may not be real but the notion of one may calm them. The fake hero can buffer the sting of the hits enough to withstand the next hit and the next one after that until the story ends and real life moments ~ real life things are realized, like they need to tend to stuff, between shows. You are the masked one. You are costumed. Under a vail. You are there to guide them away from the cliff to convince them of the lie that the fat lady has not sung. One day you will be looked upon as a master. Of one with great quality and an abundance of talent. Curse this lame look. Curse this bad, bad word. It is the seed that sews the last stitch. Learn young lass. Learn young Lad. Learn old mule and mare. Lie until the play ends. Make them laugh, question their neighbor, love the siren, oh love the siren. There is a boat load of travelers fleeing from the sinking ship. Be their boatman. They need one badly. What is your journey? A path to the craft as it rains foolery. It pushes you in front of yourself and if you can muster up the perseverance. And with this a lot of luck you eventually plow on through. With those empty streets and know that although they may be empty you are not alone. Listen closely for the howls of those that have walked those streets before you. They praise your courage. It's a never ending battle to legitimize yourself and if you hear that it ain’t you, and that you are being lied to by a soul that has long given up. Those howling ghosts know it's tough to lead a life of foolery. They are war torn from it. Pay what's due and keep an eye on the masses. They are a constant inspiration. Now get off my stage. By Laurence Fuller and Vincent D’Onofrio, 2023