CB Hoyo has spent the last decade turning language into a weapon, a joke, a confession, and a provocation. With Dislyxec Poet, his most ambitious and reckless exhibition to date, he floods the market, disrupts the established hierarchies of art valuation, and stages an irreverent farewell to the very thing that catapulted him to global recognition: his corny quotes. This is not just an exhibition—it’s a market experiment, a conceptual mic drop, and a last dance with a defining chapter of his work. Across 1,500 unique works on paper, spread across over 50 paper colors and framed in 11 different hues, Hoyo transforms Plan X Gallery into a maximalist fever dream, a visual and linguistic overload where the sheer volume of work dares the viewer to make sense of it all. The walls are packed to the point of collapse, each piece a fragment of Hoyo’s mind—at once deeply personal, playfully absurd, and scathingly self-aware.
The content of the works spans the full range of Hoyo’s signature wit: social critiques, existential dread, art world jabs, political asides, personal reflections, and the kind of humor that is both self-deprecating and uncomfortably accurate. Some of these phrases were scrawled years ago and never painted until now. Others are thoughts barely dry from yesterday. Together, they form an archive of an artist who built his own mythology from words—only to dismantle it in real-time. But the real disruption comes in the form of Hoyo’s pricing strategy, which eschews logic, exclusivity, and conventional market expectations. Each work is priced between €1 and €1,500, with no correlation to size, complexity, or perceived importance. There are no price labels. The only way to find out how much a piece costs is to click on it on the website or come to the show in person and search. A scavenger hunt with uncertain rewards, this model forces viewers to confront their own ideas of worth: Is the piece they love worth €10? €500? €1? And does that change how they feel about it?
The art world thrives on scarcity and control. Museums sanctify, galleries regulate, collectors hoard. Hoyo, as always, does the opposite. He oversaturates his own market, pushing supply past the breaking point. He makes his art more accessible while also challenging those who think they know how to “play the game.” In doing so, he poses an uncomfortable question: When an artist floods their own market, does the value disappear? Or does something new emerge? Beyond the conceptual chaos, Dislyxec Poet is also a farewell letter. This is the last time CB Hoyo will commercially release his corny quotes. While he will continue to write them—because, as he puts it, it’s “therapeutic” for him—he sees this show as the natural conclusion of an era. He got them where he wanted in an artistic context. Now it’s time to move on.
The title Dislyxec Poet is as much an artistic statement as it is a personal truth. Hoyo, who is dyslexic, has long embraced misspellings and linguistic mishaps as part of his practice. Language, like art, is a messy, imperfect, human thing. In a world obsessed with correctness, he prefers the flaw, the joke, the disruption.
So, what is Dislyxec Poet really?
A maximalist spectacle, a satire of the art market, an accessibility experiment, a farewell, and a beautifully chaotic ending to a body of work that has left an undeniable mark. CB Hoyo asks what happens when an artist makes too much art. Now, we wait for the answer.