Yes, But Is it Art? Gallery


Portrait of the Artist As A Slightly Older Man.



October 2, 2000. A new dawn, and a new day. Michael F. Nyiri, human being, artist, poet, philosopher, and fool, awakes to a new day, and sees that it is good. He showers, taking a bit too long as usual, sighs, steps out of the tub, and towels himself off. All of this is a daily ritual, and an act of art. Each moment of each day is filled with artistic intention, and Michael knew early in life that he would be an artistic influence in one way or another. Mother was an artistic talent, and that talent travelled downward in the gene pool to all three of her progeny. Daniel is a real artist, but since this is a website about me, I mean the artist Michael F. Nyiri, I feel somewhat at odds with myself if I don't talk about me. Ha Ha. No, all seriousness aside, the artist Michael Nyiri knew at this very young age that everything he ogled was in fact of artistic merit, and when he found out he could draw, then the sh*t really hit the fan. Mother praised him, and his brother Daniel, and his sister Mary Jo as well, and it was good. Michael graduated from pencil and crayon to colored pencil, and drew many many many drawings, cementing his love for and knowledge of art. Of course all of those drawings are gone now, and I certainly can't back up my claims, so I will do my best to showcase my talents (what, you might ask, are those) here.

The back ground, by the way, is from a true artist's painting. I will credit the artist Ellisor, for her painting from 2000 called "Portal"


January 23, 2004. It is four years later, and this site hasn't even been up for a while, even though there were pointers on almost every page in AllThingsMike leading to dead webspace. Now I am inspired anew, after re-creating "ElectricPoetry", and finally shortening the width of "The Cultural Blender" and now I'm tackling this neglected gem, along with Komedy Komedy Komedy, which had somewhat stagnated in my attempts at creating more and more webpages without fully expanding upon the themes I had already posted online. Who cares if no one is reading, the author proclaims here on the Yes But Is It Art? Site because that's part of the art. The words exist in time, as art, until unearthed and observed, maybe years after my death. Then this little experiment of mine, new when the yellow on black portion was written, and older now that I'm finally starting to get proficient with the program, the "artist's digital brush" as you might call it.

Michael F. Nyiri, human being, soul searcher, and satellite in the space of the universe, turns to his keyboard under times of creative surges, this one coupled with a week long or more lack of one of his old standby substance abuses, the great god alcohol. Without the need to procrastinate supplied by the god alcohol, little Mikey finds he is more motivated to play with the computer.

His mother would be proud. He's pretty damn proud himself when he reads the words, and sees the images his art has created. The artist created. And that was good.