High temperature paint from Japan with Doost

Paint. Thick. Textured. Built to last, not for your Instagram feed. We slap on layers of Japanese high-temp pigment like it’s armor, then carve into it like Italian butchers. These pieces aren’t pretty, they’re meditations. Slow. Unrushed. Each stroke takes its sweet time, because art shouldn’t grovel for attention.  

Light hits ‘em, they hit back. Retro-reflective glass dust (fancy, huh?) makes the surfaces shift like the ocean, because life’s unpredictable, and so’s our work. Tropical scenes? Sure, but with a smirk. No postcard fantasies here, just irony, serenity, and a middle finger to permanence.  

Quit social media. Swipes became brushstrokes. Now every layer is procrastination with purpose. No instant gratification, just the raw, slow grind of creation.  

This isn’t fast art. It’s “fuck-off“ art. Fragile, absurd, and utterly indifferent to your attention span.