The Joker, the Shuttle, the Soul and the Space in Between
The Mona Lisa smiled but the Joker laughed. Not softly. Not politely. Loud, messy and painted-on like a brushstroke that refuses to dry. If the Mona Lisa is art’s quiet masterpiece the Joker is its riot. A silk screen smeared across society, a reminder that underneath every perfect surface lies chaos waiting to break through.
And there he is standing under Atlantis, laughing. The astronaut of madness floating through the infinite void not looking for answers but exposing the questions we’ve hidden. Because art doesn’t destroy, it reveals. Atlantis isn’t just a machine, it’s a timeworn relic with a soul, a tired old hero who’s been to the stars and back, its scars now stories, its silence now a sermon. It hangs above the crowd like a ghost, heavy with the weight of what it carried, dreams, failures, ambitions that burned as brightly as re-entry flames.
And then there’s Joker not an artwork but a confrontation. Rémy turned Atlantis into a stage and Joker into a mirror because the shuttle isn’t the story, we are. Its empty shell reflects everything we’re afraid to face, the silence of space, the noise of our thoughts and the way both make us feel insignificant yet infinite at once.
The Void Isn’t Empty. It’s Full of Us. Space… Empty? It’s not. It’s packed. Packed with all the souls who aimed for something bigger and ended up floating. And Rémy? He painted that. He painted the silence. The waiting. The questions no one answers. Because that’s where the soul is, between infinity and insignificance, between the stars and the shadows we cast on them. His art doesn’t settle for the surface, it drills into the void and finds the humanity we buried there.
Great art doesn’t scream. It stares. It waits. It creeps into the space inside us and whispers truths you weren’t ready to hear. Rémy’s Joker does that. It doesn’t just show us stars, it makes us look into the void and realize the stars were inside us all along. It’s uncomfortable. Because when we stare into the helmet we don’t see an astronaut, we see ourself, lost, laughing, pretending we know where we’re going. And in that moment, we are the joke “Why so serious?”
Machines carry us to the stars but art carries us home.
Joker 2012 - 2018 Edition of 10