"All This Time, I Thought 'Art is a Bunch of BS' Meant Balloon Sculptures"
For years, I nodded along when people would dismissively mutter, "Art is just a bunch of BS."
And for years, I genuinely thought they meant Balloon Sculptures.
For years, I nodded along when people would dismissively mutter, "Art is just a bunch of BS."
And for years, I genuinely thought they meant Balloon Sculptures.
I imagined an entire secret society — one where artists twisted latex into abstract forms, floated their rebellion into the sky, and let the world misunderstand them entirely. To me, BS stood for an entire movement. It wasn’t an insult — it was a misunderstood compliment.
So I’ve decided to lean into it.
Introducing a new series: Balloon Sculptures — an earnest tribute to misunderstanding, miscommunication, and the beautifully absurd.
Each piece will be hand-twisted, hung, documented, and mythologized. A soft rebellion in thin air. Fragile, fleeting, and just serious enough to confuse you.
In a world that demands you defend your work with dissertations, I’m choosing to float a balloon.
And when they call it BS — they’ll be absolutely right.
- Anthony Amadeo, Amadeo Amadeo
THE NUMBERS THAT KNOW YOU
The black-and-white images recently leaked from the studio of Anthony Amadeo appear—at first glance—to be nothing more than striking portraits, poetic in their stillness, echoing the sculptural tension of classicism reimagined for a modern mythology. But to those who’ve looked deeper... something else has emerged.
THE NUMBERS THAT KNOW YOU
Are These Photocopies a Message From Beyond the Frame?
By An Observer of the Obscure
The Journal, Vol. I | Amadeo Amadeo Archives
“There are no coincidences—only coordinates waiting to be noticed.”
The black-and-white images recently leaked from the studio of Anthony Amadeo appear—at first glance—to be nothing more than striking portraits, poetic in their stillness, echoing the sculptural tension of classicism reimagined for a modern mythology. But to those who’ve looked deeper... something else has emerged.
Each photograph is overlaid with a grid of handwritten numbers—disorganized, looping, duplicated, circled, crossed out. Seemingly random. But nothing in the Amadeo Codex is ever random.
According to an anonymous source (who once claimed to have worked with the artist during a full moon in Florence), these images are not photographs—they’re receivers. And the numbers? They’re not annotations. They’re transmissions.
THE GEOSMIN THEORY
One image—titled only “Geosmin”—sent shivers through numerologists and ex-CIA codebreakers alike. “Geosmin” is the molecule that causes the smell of earth after rain... but why label a photocopy of a boy in oversized jeans with this word?
If you map the numbers across the faces, torsos, and arms, they align with ancient acupuncture meridians. One theory posits that Amadeo’s images are somatic charts for emotional memory—each number a timestamp tied to a forgotten personal truth.
What were you doing at 33?
What happened to you on the 12th?
Why do you always wake up at 3:37 a.m.?
We asked 57 people (note: a frequently appearing number) to randomly select one number from each image. 83% reported immediate recollections tied to that number—an age, a date, an address, a dream they’d forgotten until that moment. Coincidence? Or... recognition?
MULTIPLES OF MEANING
Some numbers reoccur across the images: 37, 53, 50. Are they codes? Coordinates? Or countdowns?
Photographic analysts suggest the repetitions create a pattern of activation—a trigger sequence for something not yet understood. There is evidence these photos were passed under red light at 3:00 AM for 7 nights in a row before being photocopied. Rumors suggest Amadeo used a Soviet-era duplicator found in a shuttered print shop in Bushwick.
Another theory states that these are calibration values for a non-human gaze—numbers that tell extraterrestrial observers where to focus when trying to decode human beauty.
ARE YOU PART OF THE EXPERIMENT?
What happens when you stare at the numbers?
Some claim these images shift in your periphery. That the numbers rearrange themselves. That your favorite number appears in a different spot each time.
One viewer reported dreaming of the numbers—waking with the imprint of “50” on their inner wrist. Another claims they saw their birth date, phone number, and childhood home’s address hidden across all four images.
So we ask you:
Do you see your number?
Do you know what it means?
And if not—why is it still following you?
THE AMADEO INCIDENT
THE AMADEO INCIDENT
Or, The Artist Who Came to Earth With a Camera and a Nose for Memory
by a former employee of the U.S. Bureau of Olfactory Surveillance
THE AMADEO INCIDENT
Or, The Artist Who Came to Earth With a Camera and a Nose for Memory
by a former employee of the U.S. Bureau of Olfactory Surveillance
For decades, whispers have swirled through the upper crust of the fashion elite, the fragrance underground, and certain dive bar booths in both Palermo and the Lower East Side. The whispers all ask the same question:
Who is Anthony Amadeo?
At first glance, he seems like just another artistic savant—blessed with impeccable taste, the eye of a Renaissance sculptor, and the eerie ability to extract perfume from a memory you forgot you had. But something doesn’t add up.
There are no childhood photos.
His studio doesn’t age.
Clients describe his portraits as “time loops.”
And every scent he crafts smells like a place that doesn’t exist—but should.
More curiously, he refers to his work under the brand “amadeo amadeo”—a doubling, a mirror, a signal. Linguistic experts say this kind of repetition is common in extraterrestrial code-switching, a phenomenon seen in transmissions intercepted by SETI and in the infamous 1987 Fragrance Files Leak (since suppressed).
But the most damning evidence? The Codex.
The Codex is a series of ten numbered fragrances, each with a storyline so detailed, so emotionally specific, it’s as if someone bottled alternate timelines. Theories abound:
No. 37 references a house that doesn’t appear on any official maps, yet people who’ve smelled it all remember the same backyard: overgrown basil, the scent of sun on vinyl, a garden hose still running.
No. 240 is said to summon images of people’s grandparents—regardless of their ethnicity or location—down to eerily precise details.
No. 88? We’re not allowed to speak of No. 88. Not after what happened in East LA last summer. The lowriders started levitating.
Witnesses claim Amadeo doesn’t create the scents—he retrieves them. Some say he’s a memory cartographer from a dying star system. Others claim he’s an archivist for the Council of Sensory Continuity, a galactic council tasked with bottling Earth before it disappears in the next reset.
The most fringe theory (and yet the one most cited in backroom dealer circles) is that Anthony Amadeo is not here to stay. He is only collecting. Fragments. Feelings. Faces. His showroom isn’t a business—it’s a beacon.
A signal back home.
Stay tuned. The scent is stronger than ever. And the next fragrance drop might be a countdown.
This has been a report from The Journal. Believe nothing. Smell everything.
MASON / MARBLE / DENIM
For our third shoot together, Mason Williams returns to the frame—this time suspended in a moment that feels part sculpture, part dream. The now-iconic giant denim makes its reappearance, floating like a relic of fashion surrealism. Hung in air, clipped like a cutout, it becomes a real-life collage, part Venus de Milo, part downtown atelier. Mason’s form echoes the soft shadows of marble statues I sketched while wandering the Louvre.
For our third shoot together, Mason Williams returns to the frame—this time suspended in a moment that feels part sculpture, part dream. The now-iconic giant denim makes its reappearance, floating like a relic of fashion surrealism. Hung in air, clipped like a cutout, it becomes a real-life collage, part Venus de Milo, part downtown atelier. Mason’s form echoes the soft shadows of marble statues I sketched while wandering the Louvre.
Set design: amadeo amadeo.
Photography: Anthony Amadeo.
Model: Mason Williams.
Vincent by Anthony Amadeo
Photocopies of Vincent Paladino by Anthony Amadeo
Photocopies of Vincent Paladino by Anthony Amadeo
Wig by amadeoamadeo
photocopies by anthony amadeo
The photocopies of some of the archives of Anthony Amadeo.
The photocopies of some of the archives of Anthony Amadeo.
Elliot Frank by Anthony Amadeo
Petar Cvijanovic by Anthony Amadeo
Petar Cvijanovic in a strikingly graphic display of white briefs paired with oversized denim, worn upside-down. His arms slip through the legs of the jeans, creating a visual puzzle: are they legs or arms? Is the image flipped, or are we? The ambiguity of form and function, highlighted by Petar's dynamic poses, challenges the viewer's perception at every glance.
Petar Cvijanovic in a strikingly graphic display of white briefs paired with oversized denim, worn upside-down. His arms slip through the legs of the jeans, creating a visual puzzle: are they legs or arms? Is the image flipped, or are we? The ambiguity of form and function, highlighted by Petar's dynamic poses, challenges the viewer's perception at every glance.
There once was a boy named Petar,
From Jersey, where dreams animate,
In briefs and denim draped so far,
Upturned jeans as arms, contemplate.
With each pose, a story's spun,
Of limbs and fabric intertwined,
Is he falling or has he won?
In every fold, a riddle signed.
This mover, with grace so bold,
Sets scenes in surreal frames,
Denim arcs in tales untold,
Where arms are legs, and games are names.
What vision here, does truth belie?
On head or heels, does he stand or fly?
Stay tuned for more images from this series, where the surreal meets the sartorial in Petar Cvijanovic's fantastic dance of denim. Keep up with Petar’s journey and movement art on his social channels, and look out for more innovative shoots that push the boundaries of fashion and photography.
This editorial invites the audience to dive into a world where the usual rules of clothing and gravity are creatively defied, exploring new perspectives in visual art.
Slice of Style with Christiano
It was here, in this milieu of artistic fervor, that I first spotted Christiano Wennman. His presence was as striking as the backdrop of the show, a canvas ripe for the artistry I envisioned. Christiano, known for his work at Scarr’s Pizza in New York’s Lower East Side, carries with him an aura of cool authenticity that resonates well beyond the confines of the kitchen. The idea of capturing his essence through my lens grew irresistible. Our collaboration in New York City birthed a series of collages that are as much a celebration of his individuality as they are of the cultural tapestry that brought us together. Through these images, infused with the energy and spirit of our surroundings, I invite you to explore a visual narrative that’s stitched from moments of inspiration, connection, and sheer artistic adventure.
Slice of Style with Christiano Wennmann. Photography and Collaging by Anthony Amadeo
In the heart of Paris, amidst the electrifying buzz of Fashion Week, I witnessed the awe-inspiring debut of Willy Chavarria's AW25 collection, "Tarantula." As a fervent admirer of Chavarria’s work and his mastery in melding cultural narratives with bold, street-savvy designs, my anticipation was palpable. Paris, a city that commands the avant-garde, now played host to one of America's most compelling designers, and the show was nothing short of a revelation. Each piece paraded down the runway was a testament to community and unity, woven with the kind of joy that leaps straight from the soul. The textures—rich velvets and meticulous tailoring—paid homage to Parisian elegance while staying fiercely loyal to the essence of Chavarria’s vision.
It was here, in this milieu of artistic fervor, that I first spotted Christiano Wennman. His presence was as striking as the backdrop of the show, a canvas ripe for the artistry I envisioned. Christiano, known for his work at Scarr’s Pizza in New York’s Lower East Side, carries with him an aura of cool authenticity that resonates well beyond the confines of the kitchen. The idea of capturing his essence through my lens grew irresistible. Our collaboration in New York City birthed a series of collages that are as much a celebration of his individuality as they are of the cultural tapestry that brought us together. Through these images, infused with the energy and spirit of our surroundings, I invite you to explore a visual narrative that’s stitched from moments of inspiration, connection, and sheer artistic adventure.
The Journal: Spring Issue - Canvas of Beginnings
Spring. The mere whisper of the word breathes life into the dormant, stirring the sleeping hues beneath the earth into a riot of color. It's not just a season; it’s a vibrant reawakening, a fresh canvas waiting for bold strokes. Here at amadeo amadeo, spring isn't just about blooming flowers; it’s about blooming ideas.
This season, we dive headfirst into a mélange of creations and reflections. From the lingering scent of mimosa—those tiny suns lighting up every corner of our studio—to the crisp pages of our journals brimming with sketches, every element sings of renewal.
Tonight, a new collage set emerges, not yet named but pulsing with the same vitality that runs through our veins this season. It’s a work in progress, a narrative unfolding petal by petal, a story stitched from the fabric of everyday enchantment.
“Luxury. What is it? Not the heavy definition they teach you but the light one you feel when the details line up just so. Peeling café signs, glossy typography, the sway of a cigarette. Luxe is a bouquet bought for a few euros and dropped into a handmade vase. It’s the unrepeatable ceremony of this moment, right here, right now,” I mused in a Paris cafe, as the city's symphony unfurled around me. This sentiment captures the essence of our spring offerings, intertwining the simple with the sublime.
Anticipation is also ripe for the Fall/Winter 2025 collections. The runways have spoken, and I am eager to translate their whispers into a series of line drawings—my ode to the couture that captivated my artist’s heart.
What will bloom from the studio of amadeo amadeo this spring? Expect a confusion of colors, a tapestry of textures, and a symphony of scents. We are all gardeners of the spirit, and this is our season to cultivate.
Stay tuned, for each petal unfurls a story, each scent a memory. Dive into the spring issue of The Journal, where we pluck the days, arrange them into bouquets of thought, and present them to you—our fellow dreamers and makers.