3500 ceramic pieces in a little over ten years. -- that’s how many Picasso made near the end of his life.
I learned that fact over the weekend at a museum in Charleston. I am still stunned by it. That’s about one piece a day. Except for performing basic biological functions, I haven’t done anything every day for even a week much less ten years.
So I’m feeling pretty ordinary compared to good old Picasso.
As I drove away from Charleston I thought that perhaps I would feel a bit less ordinary were I to trade up to Charleston. That way I would own the museum that holds the Picasso vase that made me feel so ordinary.
Could I trade up to Charleston?
Probably not.
Besides, even though Picasso is great, I still prefer Van Gogh. I think it has something to do with his ear. And I don’t think there are any Van Gogh's in Charleston.
So I will stick to my original plan. Trading up to a Van Gogh.
And as I mentioned last week, I am supposed to go see another artist’s paintings on Wednesday.
I have seen pictures of the artist’s work online, and I think they are great. So I can’t wait.
I will let you know what happens in my next post.
Just to help things along, though, I can’t help but tell the universe:
I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.
I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.
I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Pagan Rituals
Two nights ago was the summer solstice. What a beautiful night.
I think Van Gogh liked the summer solstice. That is pure speculation on my part. But it is hard not to like the summer solstice. The moon takes on a special glow.
I wonder whether Van Gogh ever engaged in a pagan ritual. He was an artist after all. Aren’t they supposed to do that kind of thing?
Does anyone really know what Van Gogh was like? I would like to know what he was like. Did he know about pagan rituals? Did he engage in any?
I think it would be a shame if there were no truth to pagan rituals. Indeed, I propose a bold thesis:
If there isn’t at least some truth to pagan rituals, the world is less beautiful than it could have been.
Pagan rituals, after all, are beautiful.
I will call that thesis: The Pagan Ritual Thesis (PRT)
And because I feel so strongly about PRT, I am going to declare to the universe:
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
And now that I have the universe’s attention, I want to thank it for the lovely time I had two nights ago – it was a beautiful summer solstice.
And on an unrelated note, someone else may be interested in trading. A week from today I am supposed to go see her collection of art. I can’t wait.
I think Van Gogh liked the summer solstice. That is pure speculation on my part. But it is hard not to like the summer solstice. The moon takes on a special glow.
I wonder whether Van Gogh ever engaged in a pagan ritual. He was an artist after all. Aren’t they supposed to do that kind of thing?
Does anyone really know what Van Gogh was like? I would like to know what he was like. Did he know about pagan rituals? Did he engage in any?
I think it would be a shame if there were no truth to pagan rituals. Indeed, I propose a bold thesis:
If there isn’t at least some truth to pagan rituals, the world is less beautiful than it could have been.
Pagan rituals, after all, are beautiful.
I will call that thesis: The Pagan Ritual Thesis (PRT)
And because I feel so strongly about PRT, I am going to declare to the universe:
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
And now that I have the universe’s attention, I want to thank it for the lovely time I had two nights ago – it was a beautiful summer solstice.
And on an unrelated note, someone else may be interested in trading. A week from today I am supposed to go see her collection of art. I can’t wait.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Kelly's Second Question
I want a Van Gogh. So I decided I’d try to trade up to one just like the red paper clip guy traded up from a paper clip to a house. But in order to make my plan a bit different and so potentially more interesting, I thought I would hold a lottery for the Van Gogh once I got it. If I gave all and only those people who traded with me the right to buy a lottery ticket for half the ticket’s real price, anyone who traded with me would get some benefit in addition to helping me achieve my goal. That, I thought, might be lots of fun.
But then, as I was in the middle of trading with Kelly, she asked very bluntly:
With the addition of the lottery, hasn’t your plan now become too much of a scheme? Won’t money taint it?
If I could express in words the sinking feeling I had when she asked me those questions, I would. Maybe Kelly was right. Maybe I had tainted my plan. Money does do that. And people don’t like getting caught up in a scheme. So maybe I should stick to trading up to a Van Gogh and leave out the lottery part.
Kelly then had a very good suggestion: why don’t you ask some of the other people who might trade with you what they think?
So that is what I will do. I will ask the next few people interested in trading which plan they prefer: trading up without a lottery or trading up with a lottery.
But just to set the stage, here are what I take to be the pros and cons of the two plans.
Trading Up Without Lottery
Pros
Isn’t tainted with money.
Cons
Isn’t all that different from the red paper clip guy’s plan.
People who trade with me won’t get any benefit other than having
participated in my pursuit of a Van Gogh
Trading Up With Lottery
Pros
People who trade with me could benefit monetarily and could, if they so choose, donate such money to some worthy cause.
Cons
Taints the process with money and so seems like a scheme.
Those are the options at the moment. If anyone has any thoughts, let me know.
And of course if anyone wants to trade for my awesome Kelly Koeppel original, let me know that as well.
But then, as I was in the middle of trading with Kelly, she asked very bluntly:
With the addition of the lottery, hasn’t your plan now become too much of a scheme? Won’t money taint it?
If I could express in words the sinking feeling I had when she asked me those questions, I would. Maybe Kelly was right. Maybe I had tainted my plan. Money does do that. And people don’t like getting caught up in a scheme. So maybe I should stick to trading up to a Van Gogh and leave out the lottery part.
Kelly then had a very good suggestion: why don’t you ask some of the other people who might trade with you what they think?
So that is what I will do. I will ask the next few people interested in trading which plan they prefer: trading up without a lottery or trading up with a lottery.
But just to set the stage, here are what I take to be the pros and cons of the two plans.
Trading Up Without Lottery
Pros
Isn’t tainted with money.
Cons
Isn’t all that different from the red paper clip guy’s plan.
People who trade with me won’t get any benefit other than having
participated in my pursuit of a Van Gogh
Trading Up With Lottery
Pros
People who trade with me could benefit monetarily and could, if they so choose, donate such money to some worthy cause.
Cons
Taints the process with money and so seems like a scheme.
Those are the options at the moment. If anyone has any thoughts, let me know.
And of course if anyone wants to trade for my awesome Kelly Koeppel original, let me know that as well.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Kelly's First Question
As Kelly looked for paintings in her garage, she asked me a simple question: how will you know when you have traded up?
‘Well’, I said, in a confident tone, ‘there are different ways.’
‘Like what?’ Kelly asked.
‘I could, umm, see what it is worth on the market.’
‘But what if it hasn’t been sold? Or what if the market value doesn’t reflect its quality?’
And with just a few questions, Kelly had exposed a soft underbelly of my plan. It is easy to see why a snowmobile is worth more than a red paper clip. But it is not nearly so easy to see why a Van Gogh is worth more than a Turner or a Manet. Or, to make the point more local, it is not so easy to see why the paintings that Kelly has are worth more than the Dominic original.
Having been asked such an important question, I countered with a lame response: I guess I’ll just have to see whether I like it.
Ugh. Is that it? Is that all I can say about whether I have traded up? Is it really a matter of my looking at some piece of art and, just as if I were Homer Simpson, saying ‘I like that one’?
This problem only got worse once I saw the painting that I eventually traded for. When I saw it, I was immediately struck by it and thought to myself – no way will Kelly trade me that one for the Dominic. But Kelly told me emphatically that she hated it, which made trading for it seem like a good deal for both of us.
Our transaction, however, suddenly made me a little worried. In fact, shortly after leaving Kelly’s house, I began to engage in a bizarre philosophical thought experiment.
Maybe Kelly got the better deal after all. Maybe Dominic’s original is the greatest work ever produced and in my attempt to end up with a supposed masterpiece I have in fact embarked on a long process of trading down. After all, if beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, maybe the beholders will eventually judge Dominic’s drawing to be the pinnacle of artistic progress.
Hmm…
But that is only the first question Kelly raised about my plan. She had another even more difficult question.
I’ll wait until next time, however, to tell you what that question is.
‘Well’, I said, in a confident tone, ‘there are different ways.’
‘Like what?’ Kelly asked.
‘I could, umm, see what it is worth on the market.’
‘But what if it hasn’t been sold? Or what if the market value doesn’t reflect its quality?’
And with just a few questions, Kelly had exposed a soft underbelly of my plan. It is easy to see why a snowmobile is worth more than a red paper clip. But it is not nearly so easy to see why a Van Gogh is worth more than a Turner or a Manet. Or, to make the point more local, it is not so easy to see why the paintings that Kelly has are worth more than the Dominic original.
Having been asked such an important question, I countered with a lame response: I guess I’ll just have to see whether I like it.
Ugh. Is that it? Is that all I can say about whether I have traded up? Is it really a matter of my looking at some piece of art and, just as if I were Homer Simpson, saying ‘I like that one’?
This problem only got worse once I saw the painting that I eventually traded for. When I saw it, I was immediately struck by it and thought to myself – no way will Kelly trade me that one for the Dominic. But Kelly told me emphatically that she hated it, which made trading for it seem like a good deal for both of us.
Our transaction, however, suddenly made me a little worried. In fact, shortly after leaving Kelly’s house, I began to engage in a bizarre philosophical thought experiment.
Maybe Kelly got the better deal after all. Maybe Dominic’s original is the greatest work ever produced and in my attempt to end up with a supposed masterpiece I have in fact embarked on a long process of trading down. After all, if beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, maybe the beholders will eventually judge Dominic’s drawing to be the pinnacle of artistic progress.
Hmm…
But that is only the first question Kelly raised about my plan. She had another even more difficult question.
I’ll wait until next time, however, to tell you what that question is.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A Trade!
I feel like a kid who has tasted candy for the first time. Last night, I traded my Dominic original for a Kelly Koeppel original. And I haven’t been able to think about anything else since.
I spent two absolutely brilliant hours last night looking at Kelly’s collection and talking to her. I will try to recount some of the more interesting aspects of our conversation in the next few posts. But let me first talk about her painting.
That’s a picture of Kelly’s painting right above the Dominic. It is in my not so humble opinion (IMNSHO) fascinating. It is fascinating in its own right. But what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that Kelly hates it. The artist hates her own painting. And yet, I love it. She told me that other people love it as well. The artist hates it; and yet other people love it. The implications of such a state of affairs have had me pulling my hair out ever since.
The most obvious feature of the painting is the blue outline of the outstretched legs, stomach and breasts of a woman as seen from that woman’s point of view. If you loosen your eyes a bit, though, you can look at that outline in different ways. The outstretched legs look like two fingers being held up in a victory sign. And if you really let your imagination run wild, the outline looks like the elongated ears, top of the forehead and sunglasses of a Donnie Darko style Easter bunny.
The blueness of the outline stands in edgy contrast to the orange and brown background. The contrast gives the impression that Kelly took an old painting and painted the outline on top of it. This, Kelly told me, was a deliberate effect.
If you look closely, you can see a barely visible face in the orange background. When I first saw the face, I thought it looked like Jimi Hendrix. But the more I look at it, the more Christ-like it looks to me. Of course, the face is abstract enough that you can see what you like in it. But the combined effect of the barely visible male face below the seemingly out of place blue outline of a woman’s breasts, stomach and legs really is quite striking.
As I said, I think Kelly’s painting is great. And I love the way it looks on my wall. So let me take this opportunity to thank Kelly for her painting.
Moreover, I am inclined to think that I made a good trade. The Dominic original was great. But this painting is to be sure a trade up.
Or is it?
Ah. Nothing in life is simple. Before going over to Kelly’s I would certainly have been convinced that trading the Dominic original for her painting would be a ‘trade up’. But our conversation has made me question whether I really did ‘trade up’. After all, if she hates her painting, what does that say about its real value?
Indeed, our conversation threw me into a state of confusion about not just art in general but also about my new and improved plan to get a Van Gogh. Kelly raised some difficult questions about the plan; and now I am no longer convinced that it is a good one.
I will try to explain the source of my confusion in the next few posts. And in the process I should get to talk more about Kelly’s painting and the fact that she hates it.
But until then, let me once again thank Kelly for trading with me.
And let me take this opportunity to say: if anyone wants to trade for this Kelly Koeppel original, let me know.
I spent two absolutely brilliant hours last night looking at Kelly’s collection and talking to her. I will try to recount some of the more interesting aspects of our conversation in the next few posts. But let me first talk about her painting.
That’s a picture of Kelly’s painting right above the Dominic. It is in my not so humble opinion (IMNSHO) fascinating. It is fascinating in its own right. But what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that Kelly hates it. The artist hates her own painting. And yet, I love it. She told me that other people love it as well. The artist hates it; and yet other people love it. The implications of such a state of affairs have had me pulling my hair out ever since.
The most obvious feature of the painting is the blue outline of the outstretched legs, stomach and breasts of a woman as seen from that woman’s point of view. If you loosen your eyes a bit, though, you can look at that outline in different ways. The outstretched legs look like two fingers being held up in a victory sign. And if you really let your imagination run wild, the outline looks like the elongated ears, top of the forehead and sunglasses of a Donnie Darko style Easter bunny.
The blueness of the outline stands in edgy contrast to the orange and brown background. The contrast gives the impression that Kelly took an old painting and painted the outline on top of it. This, Kelly told me, was a deliberate effect.
If you look closely, you can see a barely visible face in the orange background. When I first saw the face, I thought it looked like Jimi Hendrix. But the more I look at it, the more Christ-like it looks to me. Of course, the face is abstract enough that you can see what you like in it. But the combined effect of the barely visible male face below the seemingly out of place blue outline of a woman’s breasts, stomach and legs really is quite striking.
As I said, I think Kelly’s painting is great. And I love the way it looks on my wall. So let me take this opportunity to thank Kelly for her painting.
Moreover, I am inclined to think that I made a good trade. The Dominic original was great. But this painting is to be sure a trade up.
Or is it?
Ah. Nothing in life is simple. Before going over to Kelly’s I would certainly have been convinced that trading the Dominic original for her painting would be a ‘trade up’. But our conversation has made me question whether I really did ‘trade up’. After all, if she hates her painting, what does that say about its real value?
Indeed, our conversation threw me into a state of confusion about not just art in general but also about my new and improved plan to get a Van Gogh. Kelly raised some difficult questions about the plan; and now I am no longer convinced that it is a good one.
I will try to explain the source of my confusion in the next few posts. And in the process I should get to talk more about Kelly’s painting and the fact that she hates it.
But until then, let me once again thank Kelly for trading with me.
And let me take this opportunity to say: if anyone wants to trade for this Kelly Koeppel original, let me know.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
A New and Improved Plan -- Part II
To anyone who has been following my blog, I am sorry to have left you hanging about the second part of my plan. My niece got married in Chicago this weekend, and I had to go to the wedding. (For what it’s worth, it was a beautiful wedding. I was a very proud uncle.) Nonetheless, I didn’t have time to post.
But today I am back. So I am going to tell you the second part of my plan. But before I do, I have some exciting news.
It turns out that the rumor was not just a rumor -- someone actually wants to trade a painting for my Dominic original. With any luck, I'll go visit her sometime this week to make the trade. I’ll tell you more about that, though, when it happens.
So here is a synopsis of the first part of the plan:
I am going to trade up to a Van Gogh. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. And I am going to hold a lottery for that Van Gogh once I have it. Anyone who trades with me will be eligible for a lottery ticket. And whoever wins the lottery drawing will get to keep the Van Gogh. That is part one of my plan. Well, it’s not really my plan. It’s the universe’s plan – the universe very kindly popped the plan into my head after I had asked it for some direction.
The universe popped the second part into my head as I was watering my plants.
I am going to hold a lottery for the Van Gogh amongst those people who traded with me. But of course, lottery tickets generally cost something. So that raises the question: how much should the lottery tickets cost?
Because I would want anyone who trades with me to benefit, I figure that I should give all and only those people who trade with me the right to purchase a lottery ticket for half the ticket’s real price. That way they could either sell their right for a considerable profit – presumably such a right could be sold for up to (the other) half of the real price of the ticket -- or enter the lottery at a highly discounted rate. It would be a win-win situation all around.
So that is the second part of the plan: I am going to give the right to purchase a lottery ticket for half of its real price to anyone who trades with me.
Of course, there is one question that must be addressed: how does one go about calculating the real price of a lottery ticket? I will wait until next time, however, to tell you how I think that question should be answered. I have to feed my cat.
Until then, I suppose that it can’t hurt to tell the universe:
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
But today I am back. So I am going to tell you the second part of my plan. But before I do, I have some exciting news.
It turns out that the rumor was not just a rumor -- someone actually wants to trade a painting for my Dominic original. With any luck, I'll go visit her sometime this week to make the trade. I’ll tell you more about that, though, when it happens.
So here is a synopsis of the first part of the plan:
I am going to trade up to a Van Gogh. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. And I am going to hold a lottery for that Van Gogh once I have it. Anyone who trades with me will be eligible for a lottery ticket. And whoever wins the lottery drawing will get to keep the Van Gogh. That is part one of my plan. Well, it’s not really my plan. It’s the universe’s plan – the universe very kindly popped the plan into my head after I had asked it for some direction.
The universe popped the second part into my head as I was watering my plants.
I am going to hold a lottery for the Van Gogh amongst those people who traded with me. But of course, lottery tickets generally cost something. So that raises the question: how much should the lottery tickets cost?
Because I would want anyone who trades with me to benefit, I figure that I should give all and only those people who trade with me the right to purchase a lottery ticket for half the ticket’s real price. That way they could either sell their right for a considerable profit – presumably such a right could be sold for up to (the other) half of the real price of the ticket -- or enter the lottery at a highly discounted rate. It would be a win-win situation all around.
So that is the second part of the plan: I am going to give the right to purchase a lottery ticket for half of its real price to anyone who trades with me.
Of course, there is one question that must be addressed: how does one go about calculating the real price of a lottery ticket? I will wait until next time, however, to tell you how I think that question should be answered. I have to feed my cat.
Until then, I suppose that it can’t hurt to tell the universe:
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
I want to hold a lottery for a Van Gogh in which a small number of people have a chance to purchase a ticket for half of what the ticket is worth.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
A New and Improved Plan
Alas, the rumors about an impending trade have not come to fruition. I’m still hopeful that the person I heard mentioned will want to trade. But in the meantime I’ve been thinking about my plan.
I want to trade up to a Van Gogh. I got the idea from the red paper clip guy – he traded from a red paper clip to a house in fourteen trades. But I have begun to think that I need to sex up my plan a little bit. Otherwise, I won’t be doing anything much different from the red paper clip guy. And that’s no fun.
So believe it or not, last night I once again asked the universe for a good idea. (I might start doing that on a regular basis.) Then I smoked some pot. And as if the gods were smiling upon me, an idea popped into my head.
So what’s the new and improved plan?
It is a little involved and may take a few posts to explain. But the basic idea is very simple: a lottery. Yes, I am going to hold a lottery for the Van Gogh once I get it. And who will get to enter into the lottery? Only people who have traded with me.
So that is part one of my new and improved plan. Anyone who trades with me will get the chance to purchase a lottery ticket for the Van Gogh that I end up with. Of course, you never know. I may end up with a Picasso and simply be unable to find anyone with a Van Gogh to trade. If so, then I will hold a lottery for the Picasso. Or I may end up with a Monet, or a Renoir, or some other cool painting. If so, I will hold a lottery for those paintings.
The plan, however, doesn’t end there. There is a second part. But I’ll hold off on describing that part for now, since I need to go eat lunch.
If anyone wants to trade, let me know. You may end up with a chance to enter a very small lottery for a Van Gogh.
I want to trade up to a Van Gogh. I got the idea from the red paper clip guy – he traded from a red paper clip to a house in fourteen trades. But I have begun to think that I need to sex up my plan a little bit. Otherwise, I won’t be doing anything much different from the red paper clip guy. And that’s no fun.
So believe it or not, last night I once again asked the universe for a good idea. (I might start doing that on a regular basis.) Then I smoked some pot. And as if the gods were smiling upon me, an idea popped into my head.
So what’s the new and improved plan?
It is a little involved and may take a few posts to explain. But the basic idea is very simple: a lottery. Yes, I am going to hold a lottery for the Van Gogh once I get it. And who will get to enter into the lottery? Only people who have traded with me.
So that is part one of my new and improved plan. Anyone who trades with me will get the chance to purchase a lottery ticket for the Van Gogh that I end up with. Of course, you never know. I may end up with a Picasso and simply be unable to find anyone with a Van Gogh to trade. If so, then I will hold a lottery for the Picasso. Or I may end up with a Monet, or a Renoir, or some other cool painting. If so, I will hold a lottery for those paintings.
The plan, however, doesn’t end there. There is a second part. But I’ll hold off on describing that part for now, since I need to go eat lunch.
If anyone wants to trade, let me know. You may end up with a chance to enter a very small lottery for a Van Gogh.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Rumors!
I have heard rumors that someone wants to trade a painting for my Dominic original. How exciting -- my first art trade! In fact, it would be the first time I traded anything. I never even traded stuff in my lunch bag with other kids. I always ate what I was given.
Of course, a rumor is just a rumor. I haven’t had any explicit offers. But I am optimistic. I think all that is needed now is a little help from the universe. So I will once again make a universe directed declaration:
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
Ok, universe. Do your thing.
I have also heard rumors that Dominic has drawn another picture that he wants to give to me. This time he has drawn a desert landscape. At least that is what I was told. I haven’t seen it yet. But I can’t wait. I’m almost inclined to think that I won’t need a Van Gogh if Dominic keeps it up. But then again, A Van Gogh would be nice. Yes indeed. A Van Gogh would be awfully nice.
Of course, a rumor is just a rumor. I haven’t had any explicit offers. But I am optimistic. I think all that is needed now is a little help from the universe. So I will once again make a universe directed declaration:
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
I want someone to trade a painting for my Dominic original.
Ok, universe. Do your thing.
I have also heard rumors that Dominic has drawn another picture that he wants to give to me. This time he has drawn a desert landscape. At least that is what I was told. I haven’t seen it yet. But I can’t wait. I’m almost inclined to think that I won’t need a Van Gogh if Dominic keeps it up. But then again, A Van Gogh would be nice. Yes indeed. A Van Gogh would be awfully nice.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Dominic
I haven’t received any offers to trade yet. So let me tell you a bit about the artist and the picture.
Dominic is eight. (He was seven when he drew that picture.) He likes to play sports, dance, play with his dogs, and eat. He has a highly refined philosophy of art, which he sums up with the following question: Hey, can I have some of your cake?
Dominic’s artistic training has come from a careful study of Shel Silverstein’s ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’. There is widespread agreement that his mastery of existentialist themes traces directly to the poem ‘Sick’. Experts, however, have not been able to determine the source of his bold use of color, though there are two major theories: (1) He is rebelling in a brilliant though haphazard way against the black and white drawings in ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’; (2) He has been watching SpongeBob SquarePants.
Dominic's picture doesn’t have a name; but I like to call it – Face With Line Through It. It clearly exhibits Dominic’s struggle with the sporadic anonymity of our internet-addicted youth culture. The line represents the schism between the personality, which was the dominant intellectual meme in the twentieth century, and then gene, which is and will continue to be the dominant intellectual meme in the twenty first century.
Experts estimate that Dominic’s painting is worth about 58 cents. I reckon it is worth at least a dollar.
So if anyone wants to trade a painting for my Dominic original, let me know.
Dominic is eight. (He was seven when he drew that picture.) He likes to play sports, dance, play with his dogs, and eat. He has a highly refined philosophy of art, which he sums up with the following question: Hey, can I have some of your cake?
Dominic’s artistic training has come from a careful study of Shel Silverstein’s ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’. There is widespread agreement that his mastery of existentialist themes traces directly to the poem ‘Sick’. Experts, however, have not been able to determine the source of his bold use of color, though there are two major theories: (1) He is rebelling in a brilliant though haphazard way against the black and white drawings in ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’; (2) He has been watching SpongeBob SquarePants.
Dominic's picture doesn’t have a name; but I like to call it – Face With Line Through It. It clearly exhibits Dominic’s struggle with the sporadic anonymity of our internet-addicted youth culture. The line represents the schism between the personality, which was the dominant intellectual meme in the twentieth century, and then gene, which is and will continue to be the dominant intellectual meme in the twenty first century.
Experts estimate that Dominic’s painting is worth about 58 cents. I reckon it is worth at least a dollar.
So if anyone wants to trade a painting for my Dominic original, let me know.
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