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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Trading Up!

I don’t want to get all mystical. But I think the universe may have responded to my request. It hasn’t delivered me a Van Gogh. But it did give me an idea.

Have you ever heard of the red paper clip guy? He started with a red paper clip and traded up to a house

http://oneredpaperclip.blogspot.com/

It’s an amazing story. On the first trade he got a pen; and then he traded for a doorknob; and then a keg of beer and a bar light; and so on. Fourteen trades and one year later he had a house.

Well, if someone can trade up to a house from a red paper clip, I figure that I can trade up to a Van Gogh.

And I think I’ll start with a picture drawn by Dominic, my girlfriend’s eight-year-old nephew. It’s the one on the side over there. Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. I am going to trade Dominic’s original for a painting; and then I’ll trade that painting for another; and so on. Who knows? Maybe fourteen trades and one year later I’ll have a Van Gogh.

So anyone who wants to trade with me let me know. I’ll drive (or fly) to wherever you might be in order to trade with you.

The Universe

I can’t remember its name. But I remember hearing about a book according to which the key to life was asking the Universe for what you wanted.

Now, I must admit to being on the side of the skeptics. But you know what – I don’t care. What I care about is getting a Van Gogh. I mean, I really want a Van Gogh. And I’m wiling to try whatever I can. So just in case that book is right, I am now telling the universe:

I want a Van Gogh.
I want a Van Gogh.
I want a Van Gogh.

There. I said it three times. That should be enough. And I’ve even decided to make it easier on the universe. I am not asking to own a Van Gogh. No, I just want a Van Gogh to hang on my wall, even if it’s only for one night. So, here goes again:

I want a Van Gogh to hang on my wall, even if it’s only for one night.
I want a Van Gogh to hang on my wall, even if it’s only for one night.
I want a Van Gogh to hang on my wall, even if it’s only for one night.

So universe, if you are listening, you have some work to do. Throw me a bone. Just one little idea -- that’s all I need. How can I get a Van Gogh? How can I get a Van Gogh? Hmmmmmmmm….