About
David Petersen started making things that have been often characterized as art in the year 1997. At 23 years old, his art career was already over the hill, washed up before it got a chance to get dirty. Yet he mysteriously perservered. Nowadays, nearly ten years older, at least 175 pounds heavier, and having spiraled into the kind of debt only a Third World Country could possibly empathsize with, Mr. Petersen spends his few free hours sequestered in his dreary studio thinking of get-rich-quick schemes and faking his own death. When he is completely demoralized by his lack of imagination in these matters, the final hours of his evening are wasted on a barstool, eyes glazed and fixed on a television screen with the day’s sports highlights. Bless his little heart. Sincerely, Jean-Michel Basquiat 
