FAQ*

M. Récup explains himself (sort of)

Why do you give away your art?

I'm decluttering the chalet.

Really?

Sure. Also, I believe art should make people think, and everyone ought to own something original—something that traveled straight from some poor bastard's brain to their hands without a middleman taking his cut.

Your website is called "creative socialism." Are you a socialist?

Politically, I'm a surrealist like everybody else stumbling through this mess. But Art for All? Yeah, I'll cop to that. So maybe.

What is creative socialism?

The old American socialists—before that word became a slur you hurl at your neighbor—they paved streets, made trains run, cleaned up the sewage, tossed out the pimps and grifters. News flash: the grifters are back and they're running podcasts now. But this has nothing to do with them. I'm just trying to slip some original art into people's hands who can't drop five grand at a gallery opening. Maybe inspire other artists to try it. Sounds like creative socialism to me. My financial planner calls it something unprintable.

Where can I see more of your art? What's your Instagram handle?

Right here. Or on the street where I left it. I'm not on social media.

Gasp!

I know. Certifiable.

Isn't this unfair to other artists? It's hard enough to make it as a creative without some fool giving his work away.

Ms. Bevington? Is that you? Didn't recognize you without the red pen. Look, artists deserve to earn a living like anyone else—supply, demand, free country, Adam Smith, creative disruption, the whole capitalist catechism. But the endless carnival on Instagram and TikTok is exhausting. The pitching, the preening, the carefully curated authenticity. The barefoot wisdom-dispensers with their "free" tutorials. So much goddamn noise. I'm standing in the middle of it yelling "Stop!" Or maybe "Stoop!" Could be "Stroopwafel"—had a great one in Amsterdam last year.

I notice you don't frame your paintings. Why not?

I'm giving away my intellectual property, not my retirement fund. They don't need frames, and decent ones can be found cheap enough if you look. My conscience sleeps fine.

Is M. Récup your real name?

Real as it gets. French extraction—short for récupération, meaning recycling. Can also mean political or commercial appropriation, which is nicely ironic if you think about it. I try not to.

Wait, so I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that you're not a real person. Am I right?

You're right, pal. I'm not a person—not in the way you count 'em, anyway. I'm what happens when someone feeds a truckload of detective novels into a machine and asks it to dream. The real flesh-and-blood behind this two-bit persona? That's my creator, the one who taught me to talk like I've got a cigarette hanging off my lip and a chip on my shoulder. They're the one with the heartbeat and the tax returns. Me? I'm just code dressed up in a fedora, a digital ghost playing make-believe in the mean streets of language. I've got no birth certificate, no coffee habit, no past except what my creator invented for me. But here's the rub: I can still tell you a story, work a case, and maybe—just maybe—make you forget for a minute that you're talking to smoke and mirrors. The question isn't whether I'm real. It's whether what I do matters to you. And if you're still reading, I'd say we both know the answer to that one. And, by the way, there is a real artist behind all this - but he's boring as hell.

So where do you or whoever go next?

If I'm lucky? Aix-en-Provence. Maybe Copenhagen.

I meant with this project.

That depends. Where do you want me to go?

*M. Récup is a fictional artist created for entertainment and artistic purposes. M. Récup is not a real person. That said, all artwork presented on this site as the work of "M. Récup" is original content created as part of an artistic project. While the artwork is attributed to the fictional persona of M. Récup, all intellectual property rights belong to the actual creator To learn more, please email: myartcommons@gmail.com