The pulsing, flashing, morphing, buzzing mind-blower of a sensory experience that is Beeple’s sprawling new studio and exhibition space made one thing as clear as crisp resolution.
Charleston, we are not in Kansas anymore.
Within the limits of a city known mostly for its enduring 18th century architecture, subtropical foliage and rainbow of pastels, I had stumbled into an otherworldly wormhole.
And it is hidden in a nondescript factory in a Cainhoy industrial park.
It is a parallel Dystopia, the stomping ground of masters of the universe like Jeff Bezos, and Kim Jong-un, or at least their likenesses, who are rendered prostate and toppled — at times dead-eyed, exposed, decapitated or disemboweled.