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New York Shitty Exclusive: Musings of a Tree Twatifier
Filed under: 11211, 11222, Advanced Life Forms, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Ever wondered about the person who has seen fit to “vaginalize” a number of the trees in Greenburg (including the above specimen)? I know I have. I’ve been documenting these for some time. Needless to say you, dear readers, can imagine my delight when I was put in contact with the person behind the pinkification! I sent him— yes, it’s a guy— a list of questions. Follows are “Dutch Masterson’s” answers!
Miss Heather: Although I probably have some intuitive understanding as why you twatify trees (I put rubber tits on stuff) I suspect the question on most of my readers’ minds is why?
Dutch Masterson:
ultimately, i suppose i “twatify” tree knots because i’m an asshole. who am i to remind us where we come from? in the same way an obsessed mathematician may be surrounded by pi, i feel that i’m haunted by the twat..pussy is everywhere.. the conch at the beach, the papaya at the fruit stand, the flowers in the park.. everybody knows this. but in the same way one may pass the bum on the corner each day without realizing his penchant for poetry, we constantly dismiss nature’s reminder that we are born from the same sputum and with that spewed from the same hole.. i’m not going to lie, i may be a naughty trickster and a pervert, but at the same time i’m hoping that my tree twats may snatch someone’s attention while walking the dog or getting drunk in the park. encouraging them to stop and smell the roses and reflect that the tree, the dog, the bum on the corner, we’re all in this shit together harmoniously or not.. and maybe, just maybe such a reflection will shepherd someone into appreciating the song of the bum or better yet into calling their mother..
MH: (somewhat related to #1) When did you have your “eureka” moment, e.g.; said to yourself “I am going to provocatively paint tree knots”?
DM:
i believe my “eureka” moment came to me when i happened upon the perfect tree twat juxtaposed before a nike “just do it” advertisement while eating strawberry yogurt. just kidding.. i had been pondering the mischievous plot for some time and like many of my projects, i just let it sit there simmering on the back burner, bubbling with delay..it wasn’t until i joked about it to my special lady over drinks that i started to get things cooking. i’m pretty sure it was her calling me a pussy (if i didn’t “just do it”) that prompted me. so in effect, my girlfriend was the nike poster and irish whiskey the strawberry yogurt. initially we planned on painting the pussies together. pretty in pink punks in love. she actually did the first one, an adorable little cherry begging to be popped on metropolitan ave; right outside the art store where we picked up the pigment.
MH: I have seen your work at McCarren Park, Bedford Avenue and McGuinness Boulevard. Each of these tree twats has its own distinctive personality. The one at McCarren Park is sweet and petite, as is the one on Bedford. The one on McGuinness Boulevard, however, is at least three feet tall and slightly menacing. What is your criteria? What does it take for a tree to be worthy of twatification? What do you think of the attached example? Would it pass muster? Please elaborate.
DM:
i appreciate all pussies. even the ugliest twat is a beautiful thing. when it comes to arboreal vaginas, it’s about quality not quantity. it has to speak to me in some way. it has to beg for it. i’m not gonna just slap some paint on any old twat just like i’m not going to fuck or make love to any girl just because she has a vagina. you have to be selective in life and choose wisely. i guess the paramount criteria for me risking making friends over cheese sandwiches in the clink are as follows:
- location, location, location – the whole reason i’m doing this is to generate thought and conjure up conversation. that doesn’t work very well if nobody sees my handiwork. so major avenues and high volume pedestrian pathways are key to stealing one’s attention. on that note, i will admit that i do exercise some moral code in that i have avoided the pussies outside grade schools and churches. that probably originates from latent guilt instilled from a catholic upbringing and i hate that.
- like i said, to be worthy of ‘twatification’, the pussy simply has to speak to me. there’s got to be something unique about it’s personality that compels me. for obvious reasons, the knot hole should definitely resemble a twat or sometimes butt hole. i am predisposed to calling attention to the sweet petites, but that’s not going to stop me from giving some praise to the ghastly axe wound because it does take all kinds of pussies to make the world go round.
MH: What can we look forward to— tree twatwise— in the future?
DM:
my tree twat project is at a current standstill 🙁 i’m a distracted mess busied with the burdens of being a jerk of all trades. there’s all kinds of secret projects going on and i’m at a point in my life where i need to prioritize. although dizzy within the swirling figure 8 of my master plans, i’m sure they’ll come around again to incite a chuckle or piss off a poor soul. and most likely sometime around the conclusion of a probationary period i somehow gotten myself into as a result of unrelated mischief making. there are indeed plenty of pussies out there pleading to be pinked. and i’m sure i’ll soon catch myself smirking with a coffee cup of paint thinking of this very conversation. i can’t help but to recall overhearing a street urchin’s rant on avenue A one night where he was chanting his take on the Exorcist script: “the power of pussy compels me” and i have to laugh when i think that it is without question the power of pussy that compels me.
So there have you.
Miss Heather
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