To Be (Rational) Or Not To Be (Rational)

I did not expect to be in this position. I’ve had a number of offers to trade. And I haven’t accepted any of them.

I can’t give any particularly rational reason for my refusal to trade. It boils down to the fact that I really like Kellie Lambert’s painting and haven’t been offered a painting that I like better than it.

My current stinginess, however, has made me wonder about rationality.

As I’ve said in previous posts, the whole process of trading up must involve a good deal of irrational behavior. And I’ve speculated that perhaps the predictable irrationality of people is what makes trading up possible.

But I now am wondering whether it would make sense to reintroduce the lottery idea into this scheme. Just as a refresher, I had toyed with the idea of giving anyone who traded with me the right to enter into a lottery for the Van Gogh at half of what the price of a lottery ticket would be worth. People could then either sell their right or enter the lottery at a highly discounter price.

Were there to be a lottery of this sort, half of the irrationality in the trading process would be eliminated. With a lottery in place those who traded with me would collectively lose half the value of Van Gogh. But losing half the value of a Van Gogh is less irrational than losing its full value.

So should I or shouldn’t I try to inject this process with a little more rationality?

I am inclined to think that I shouldn’t. Despite the fact that I am partial to rationality – I have studied way too much Aristotle not to be – a brief look at the world would convince most anyone that irrationality reigns. Consider politics. Repeatedly shouting slogans, it would seem, is far more effective than calm rational deliberation.

Nonetheless, I am open to the potential power of rationality. So I have decided to make a decision based upon my next trade. If the person who trades with me would be willing to trade a significantly better painting if a lottery is involved, then I will go with a lottery. If not, then I won’t.

And since I am so concerned with rationality, I want to take this opportunity to tell the universe:

I want to trade my original Kellie Lambert for a significantly valuable painting.
I want to trade my original Kellie Lambert for a significantly valuable painting.
I want to trade my original Kellie Lambert for a significantly valuable painting.

Anyone who wants to trade, let me know.

Van Gogh's Prostitutes

It is easy to turn someone into a saint, especially someone as brilliant and tragic as Van Gogh.

In fact, I am guilty of doing just that. When I think about Van Gogh, I can almost see a halo above his head. I form an image of a man who nobly pursued beauty in its purest form, a man with an untainted soul who was too good for this world, a man whose unrivalled artistic sensibilities led him to an act of tragic self-harm.

But was Van Gogh a saint?

That of course is a tricky question. But it is clear from his letters that he engaged in behavior that we typically don’t associate with saints.

After falling in love with two women who did not reciprocate his feelings, Van Gogh ended up living with a low class prostitute named Sien.

The following are three sentences taken from three of Van Gogh’s letters.

Van Gogh’s Prostitutes

And I tell you frankly that in my opinion one must not hesitate to go to a prostitute occasionally if there is one you can trust and feel something for, as there really are many.

I am reading the last part of Les Misérables; the figure of Fantine, a prostitute, made a deep impression on me...

To explain my meaning more clearly, let me begin by saying that even his most beautiful weeping Magdalenes or Mater Dolorosas always simply remind me of the tears of a beautiful prostitute who has caught a venereal disease or some such small misery of human life.

So maybe Van Gogh wasn’t so saintly after all.

But then again, maybe there is nothing un-saintly about frequenting prostitutes. Indeed, some have speculated that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute.

So maybe we are all too Victorian in our moral sensibilities.

The Catholic Church requires a saint to have performed three miracles. But I don’t see why the Catholic Church should have the final word on this matter. I will therefore articulate the following thesis. I will call it the Ho-Ho-Ho thesis.

Ho-Ho-Ho Thesis: Any saint must sleep with a prostitute at least three times.

See, I am doing it again. I can ‘t help but think of Van Gogh as a saint. And I will do just about anything to continue to do so.

Kellie Lambert's Dream

In Kellie Lambert’s Dickinson period, her paintings were a surrealistic and symbolic montage. It is not, however, the surrealism of Dali. No, it is a surrealism that harkens back to Emily Dickinson.

In this painting two birds float in the foreground. One is black and dominant; the other, pink and submissive. I can’t help but suspect that the birds are related. Perhaps they are sisters. The older sister, I think, is the bolder darker one.

Above the birds to the right is a tree house. The tree that holds the tree house descends into a series of logs under which peak out two barely noticeable feet that belong to a little girl. The feet perhaps represent the buried desires that exist in their most innocent form in the tree houses of children.

Above the birds to the left is a pale window. All windows point both outside and inside. The window in this painting would seem to be pointing primarily inside – it is giving us a glimpse of someone’s inner being. Nonetheless, the window makes one feel as if one can see beyond it to the outside. It thus in a peculiar way gives both perspectives.

In the lower left corner sits a black figure. Although it is on the same level as the child’s feet, as a result of the bright color surrounding it the figure visually feels like the lowest part of the painting. Perhaps it represents death, that permanent inhabitant of all our deepest feelings.

There is much more to say about this painting. It has a peculiar geometry. The colors are almost painful. And much, much more.

Come Slowly, Eden! What is Kellie saying? I feel as if she is trying to say something. But then again, perhaps not. Dreams are like that.

It is a remarkable painting.

Anyone who wants to trade, let me know.

I Didn't Do It!

I wish I had. But I didn’t.

Over the weekend thieves stole a Van Gogh painting called ‘Poppy Flowers’ from a museum in Cairo. The painting is worth $50 million.

http://www.theimproper.com/art/?p=228

As I said, I didn’t commit the crime. But I understand the impulse. The thieves probably wanted a Van Gogh to hang on their wall, just like I do.

Although the criminals probably don’t read my blog, I want them to know that I understand their desire. And since I feel such a close bond with them, I also want them to know that I am willing to help them out.

Since they probably need some place to store the painting, if they want to trade their Van Gogh for my Kellie Lambert original, I would be more than willing hang Poppy Flowers on my wall while the manhunt subsides.

So, Van Gogh thieves – if you’re listening, and if you want to trade your Van Gogh for my awesome Kellie Lambert original, let me know.

And anyone else with a Van Gogh, (or any other cool painting), if you want to trade for my Kellie Lambert original, let me know.

A Trade, A Trade, A Mother Fucking Trade!

You’ll have to excuse my enthusiasm. But I really was beginning to worry that I had become stuck. It had been almost a month since my last trade. And I was beginning to think that the universe had turned against me. But last night, just a few days after my birthday and a few days before the end of the summer, I made a trade.

I must admit, I think the universe timed things rather well. This time of year can be a bit distressing, at least if you are a teacher. As my good friend, Susan, said a few weeks ago as we were walking along a dock to her boyfriend’s boat, every teacher, even the most eager, says a secret ‘Oh Fuck!’ as the school year approaches. So let me be the first to thank the universe for providing a very pleasant surprise before my ‘Oh Fuck!’ begins. And let me thank as well someone who has chosen to remain anonymous but who gave me a beautiful painting by an intriguing artist named Kellie Lambert.

I don’t know much about Kellie Lambert. In fact, I know hardly anything at all. So let me just make some stuff up.

Some have speculated that Kellie Lambert was a renegade. Some claim to see dark inner struggles in her work. Others dismiss her as an insignificant attention seeker. Whatever one thinks about her, however, her art has without a doubt made its mark in local art circles in the United States. Artists ranging from Smith to Birscht have all admitted their tremendous debt to her artistic vision, a vision that culminated in a handful of stunning paintings from what is now called her ‘Dickinson Period’.

The painting I now have belongs, believe it or not, to Kellie Lambert’s Dickinson Period.

I will do my best in the next post to describe my feelings about the painting. Until then, if anyone wants to trade for this amazing Kelie Lambert original, let me know.

Van Gogh's Funeral

Ok. I admit. I’m becoming gloomy. I think the universe has abandoned me. I have had no offers to trade.

Because misery loves company, I looked at a letter written by Emile Bernard, an artist who attended Van Gogh’s funeral. It is a magnificent letter, though of course a painfully sad one.

It too paints a portrait of Van Gogh.

He finally died on Monday evening, still smoking his pipe which he refused to let go of, explaining that his suicide had been absolutely deliberate and that he had done it in complete lucidity.

On the walls of the room where his body was laid out all his last canvases were hung making a sort of halo for him and the brilliance of the genius that radiated from them made this death even more painful for us artists who were there.

We climbed the hill outside Auvers talking about him, about the daring impulse he had given to art, of the great projects he was always thinking about, and of the good he had done to all of us.

Anyone would have started crying at that moment…the day was too much made for him for one not to imagine that he was still alive and enjoying it

He was, Gachet said, an honest man and a great artist who had only two aims: humanity and art.


Even Van Gogh’s funeral, it would seem, was beautiful.

A Request, (round two)

I wish I had good news. But except for a distant lead that might come to fruition in a few weeks, I haven’t had any luck trading for a painting.

I have been feeling a bit down about the matter and have been trying to figure out how to generate more leads. And it did occur to me that I could ask the universe again. But then I began to worry that asking again might be a bit pushy. And maybe the universe doesn’t like pushy. But then I though -- fuck it! If I’m going to get a Van Gogh, I better be at least a little pushy. And besides, the universe may appreciate persistence.

So, universe god damn it!

I want to trade my Melanie Bamberg triptych for a painting.
I want to trade my Melanie Bamberg triptych for a painting.
I want to trade my Melanie Bamberg triptych for a painting.

If anyone has any leads, let me know.