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September 19 2018

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February 16 2018

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The Egg-Video (Amsterdam, 2017)
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'Playing Away Your Ego' (2017)  

Video I made at Stichting Eiwerk between October and December 2017. A girl called Agnes played Fortuna, while I shot, cut and directed the clip. It'd been ten lonely years since I made a video. I'd always been missing it.


-Allan P. M. Málaga aka. Amalgama
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Amalgama Cardboard-Art (February 15, 2018)
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Hou Vol! (2018)

Drawn at the Zeedijk on February 15.


I was walking by Chinatown, when I saw these boxes scaterred on top of one another. In my head, I heard a ring-ding-ding... perhaps a dong... and I knew this was gonna be a beautiful day. The empty glass had it coming; though I'm still asking myself, what the hell am I doing drawing in friggin' Fornia at 36??

... I'd guess, I've just been trying to envision the possibilities, when no one else did.
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'El Caracol Cholito' (2018)

Drawn at the Zeedijk on February 15.


Featuring 'Sean Scenella', the main charater in my hermetic comic-book 'The Tale of a Snail'; a modestly epic trilogy that though surely well-conceived, still needs to be written and shared with the masses.
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'Il Memorabibile' (2018)

Drawn at the Zeedijk on February 15. Had to wait a little before I got started, because a cop was parked with his motorcycle right in front of these boxes.


Time will pass by, as if the memory of hedonism hadn't been cast in the mind of this town's most remarkable area; its identity might fade away with the years, but only few people shall ever be able to forget that little squeezy bastard that drove all RLD-girls insane.
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'La Incondicional' (2018)

Drawn at the Zeedijk on February 15, but unconcluded because a garbage-truck came to pick it up before the left arm's design was done. I really hoped to carry my red marker for the mouth-dot... pero la verdad es que tampoco iba preparado. The geisha was however "mi plato de fondo" aquel día, despite the lack of detail.


You might've been meeting billions of people along the decades; but there will always be a special someone among the others, you'd been hoping to meet again someday, against all odds. 

I've asked St. Francis why she didn't show up again on Valentine's day to oblige me; if she hadn't become a red sparrow that settled upon my tree, only to chirp my secrets back to heaven's portals - perhaps, a decent way to tell me I'd been wrong in not seeing through her.

She'd probably make up excuses to deny me access, to say I've gone mad and ignore all the talents I'd raised for her to horrow; and though I know there probably won't be any tomorrow for us both to rejoice and come together, it all has been most definately worth the inspiration and fond memories...


... if only, she'd remember.

February 15 2018

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“Ten-and-a-half tumultuous years roaming the RLD...

Shadow-boxing against delirium, chasing after answers; seeking for myself out there, along with one thousand and eleven answers.

... I'd guess, it’s all been for a good reason.”


-Allan P. M. Málaga aka. Amalgama
— Allan P. M. Malaga
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THE RLD (the truth about the ridicule and a way to justify a miracle)

It must have been nine-and-a-half years ago; perhaps ten-and-a-half years – if you’d forget to count the celibacy – I’ve been dwelling at the RLD. It’s been a long journey of rising and falling that has taken me around the forgotten remains of destiny. What first started as a belated way to deal with a heart-break and an unexpected romantic mind-trick that I should’ve been able to anticipate, soon led me into losing myself to the joys of mental release and hedonism.  

The imminent confrontation with my inner-self and the intellectual powers I’d suddenly been endowed with, resulted seven months later in a psychosis. Initially induced by a heavy overdose of mushrooms, this event marked an era of paranoia and enquiry, in which both the exploration of sexuality and the mere act of “dwelling around the area” would serve as a catalyst for expanding my consciousness to the max.

It would’ve been perhaps much wiser and reasonable to choose a different path in life, but the fates had determined that I would spend the following decade roaming around those streets without a specific purpose. There were periods when I’d seen the light, but then again; they hardly ever lasted long enough to keep me from falling back into bad old habits.


Days would go by, as I’d learn to break out of my shell of shyness and expel doubt from the paradigm, exposing myself to an overload of external stimuli and learning how to deal with the metaphysical and undesirable double-talk; all for the sake of wisdom. It wasn’t easy. It’d often be hard enough to choose between the starved Lestat and the fed-up Louis –archetypes, perhaps because within me the little whimsical Claudia was being engendered; then again, the lessons I’d been acquiring throughout my training would turn me stronger and much more determined to hold on to my faith.

What had once assisted my anointment and induction to the other side, soon became the reason I was now able to live in the present and deal with reality. It took about five years before I’d learn how to control such magnificence and harness it, as to help me achieve the goals that I’d projected. It would have been easy to quit any time, but the possibility of seeing the love of my life again, with to her unrecognizable self-control and a set of newly-acquired psychic abilities would be enough stimulus to stay.


Throughout those years, I saw myself turn from a frustrated little nimrod that loved to question everyone’s intentions into a free-spirited elf that hardly ever had trouble accepting life’s blessings, as they were served to him on a platter. I know that many must wonder why a guy like me would choose to waste his youth in the company of the most un-appreciated creatures representing society; how I’d be able to greet them all as my own sisters and seal it with formalities like a kiss on the hand, whilst always keeping eye-contact and hardly ever feeling the need to stare at their bodies – I’m pretty sure the answer won’t please their ears, even if they had been there already.

Many people wonder indeed if I’m just a crazy Indian that loves to dwell in the Red Light.

They’d say I was there to deal drugs because of my looks and heritage, because I’d been foolish enough to open up to everybody; that I’d been doing crack with street-musicians because I enjoyed their music, because I wasn’t the renegade they’d been expecting, but…

It’s simpler than it looks.  


There comes a time when you finally take off your glasses and care to be appreciative for beauty and the real attributes it has to offer. You may say denial is hard when you can’t get enough of something, but the truth is it doesn’t take much to make me happy. 

Our perception of life defines our level of gratitude and the manner by which we choose to deliver love. The fact is that I know there’s an entity of control that hates me for this, and would actually do anything in order to see me fall; perhaps so I don’t earn my place in heaven, or so that others could cash-in a fortune up there.

It doesn’t matter.


What truly matters is that one is capable of achieving happiness in even the darkest corners of this planet, and doesn’t need anyone else to tell him if he’s right or wrong in doing so; most likely because we’ve been blessed with the precious gift of free-will. In all certainty, one could call it a miracle if he was ever to feel true love; and to be able to witness it everyday should only be defined by us as a fortunate blessing. Rest assured, appreciation doesn’t mean much, if there’s no good intention behind to motivate it.


If you don’t get what I’m saying, it’s probably because you haven’t been there, or even care to. You may try to follow my foot-steps, or even quote me during an evening party; but please don’t be too cocky to claim that an Indian like me couldn’t have been through all this and then have the intellect to come up with his own original words to define it.


-Allan P. M. Málaga aka. Amalgama
(14-02-2018)
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Amalgama Cardboard-Art (14 February, 2018)
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'Rex Agapi Ditto' (2018)  

Posca Pen on Cardboard  
75 x 105 cm.  

Sketched at home on February 14, 2018.


"Aprendí a sufrir por la vida y a vivir por el sufrimiento."

-Allan P. M. Málaga
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'Draft for Rex Agapi Ditto' (2018)  

Fine-liner on Paper

14,5 x 21 cm.

Sketched at home on February 14, 2018.
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Amalgama & 'Rex Agapi Ditto' (February 15, 2018)


February the 14th wasn't a night like any other to little Lestat. He'd be working all day on a way to tell the world how far his mystic journey through the Red Light had been, only to find himself there again that evening. This time however, he was lacking words to greet his sisters; or eyes to describe them. It may perhaps sound insane, but it's the truth.

The slushy snow got him thinking about a special someone and regret his audacy to emit a few pretentious words, that would end up denying him the pleasure of her presence throughout the rest of his indefinate life. Feeling that delicate touch under his skin and being quite able to recognize her face in every single women, should've been enough reason to keep him from dancing on his own. He could've despaired by his solitude; and yet with every dual tear and careless sigh, he'd only manage to gain in faith and spiritual strength.

He passed by the bee-hive at around 2:30, asking himself why he'd had to erase her number from his cell-phone back then and carry on, as if a life devoid of her grace would actually be worth it. Little did she realize that hesitation had back then been the issue, though nowadays she'd surely notice how he could crow like a rooster and know exactly when to stay; while most likely, she's now thinking that he'd been ailing, or losing his mind to delirium, cause these days they'd say he could barely tell the difference between hell and heaven.


A small girl in black had been sitting by the bus-stop. She had probably expected a nice talk from Lestat, as usual; but after being ignored by the young senile vampire, she soon took off with bus-line 763 to Molenwijk, leaving him behind with a few details to ponder. He then couldn't help but blaming himself for a long scanted youth, often playing a dick to his beloved Mystique along the years.

It surely wasn't like he'd ever been cruel to her and failed to show some respect, or didn't have the decency to acknowledge the precious gift of her presence, whenever she'd had the guts to visit his dark realm and come by; but had he been instead quite the opportunist and given her a little more than 'vatos', perhaps she would've just been clever enough to see how important she'd been to him.


A few minutes had passed by, as a tall girl came to join Lestat at that desolated bus-stop. Surprisingly, she'd be wearing bright colors; with a yellow scarf around her head. He'd tell her that the bus 763 had just left, and even try to start a conversation; but she retalliated his kindness with indifferent reserve. Little later she split, as bus 759 to Ijburg arrived; leaving the loveless vampire all by himself.

For a second, he thought he'd been done with finding love in the iciest corners and even craved for the days, when weed and alcohol would be the substance of preference for subduing his loneliness. Nevertheless, he shook his head and with both a halo of contentedness and a pristine mind, smirked at the thought that art had been blessing him with wings and took bus 757 back home; not without ever reminding himself that despite the nightly cold, his blood was still running.

-Allan P. M. Málaga
(15-02-2018)
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'Stolen Oranges' (February, 2018)  

Posca Pen on Cardboard  

93.5 x 92 cm.

Drawn on February the 4th 2018 and given a finishing touch ten days later on February the 14th.
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Making of 'Stolen Oranges' (February the 4th, 2018)  

This time I decided to give imagination the free-hand and let it do just whatever it desired. If I couldn't envision where this was all going, it was due to my whim and the influence that radio had on my thoughts.  

If I seemed a little distracted between min.11 and 12 it was because my thoughts had been diverted by the sun's reflection on the neighbor's swinging glass-door. 

There weren't any photographers in the room that afternoon, I believe.  


-Amalgama aka. Allan Málaga
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