Tristan Rêveur is the greatest artist of the 20th century.
Nobody has never seen his works.
He burned all his paintings
before he killed himself.
When he was eighteen he told
everyone he would live three more
years and then go to New York and
kill himself. And that's exactly
what he did. He came to New York
for his twenty-first birthday, saw
the sights, and shot himself in the
head. He left one-line note:
"Un suicide elegant est l'oeuvre d'art finale"
("An elegant suicide is the ultimate work of art").
"At midnight on the fifteenth of
March, Rêveur strolled calmly to
the center of the Brooklyn Bridge,
tossed a white rose into the East
River, and shot himself in the
head. He was taken to Bellevue
Hospital and pronounced dead on
arrival."
Tristan Rêveur used to say that bad
art is more tragically beautiful
than good art, because it
documents human failure.
–––––
The reason you haven't heard of him is must be, that he is imaginary. He and his whole body of work was created in cooperation between strangers on the internet.
