Thursday, August 15, 2019

Bill Clinton blue dress red heels


$52,000,000.00 home (one of several homes) and this is what Epstein put in it. 
He was being cute. Being provocative.

I have a friend with similar extremely poor provocative taste. 

This is a person who had his upscale home exterior painted. Then when it was finished he decided he didn't care that much for the shade and had the company re-paint the whole thing. Then decided he still didn't care for the new shade and had them paint it a third time but by then the owner of the house painting company told him to go f himself.

Oh, how we laughed.

What the exterior painter didn't know is inside the guy has hanging an original Picasso. The ugliest painting any of us have ever seen. It's a wickedly poorly hastily chicken-scratched likeness of Picasso's mistress slapped onto a brown paper bag. 

It's one of Picasso brown paper bag series.

The paper bag is more interesting than the painting. 

The bag has vertical stripes apparently a remnant of production. Textural stripes. It's from an upscale store but exceedingly thin paper. 

And the painting is horrible. Eyes where they don't belong. Outrageously primitive mouth. Uncomplimentary physical form. A beautiful woman turned into a horror. Naked with her legs spread apart with her vagina the central focus of the picture, but clumsily hastily primitively drawn as if by first grader; a broad vertical line in black with black lines like rays of a sun drawn with the same brush. Just horrible. 

Everyone who looks at the painting finds it horrifying, and that would be everyone who enters the house, and that would be quite a lot of people invited for very large cocktail parties. The painting is the main design feature. It's framed extravagantly with its own bronze light. 

Nobody, and I mean nobody would want such a horrible thing in their life, far less the central design feature of their home. The intention is to shock. And boy does it ever shock. 

In the end I feel pity for people who feel they must shock. 

I'm critical of other people's art. 

And I don't care if they're critical about mine. 

I made my own art so that I can have the stuff that I like since the stuff that I like is illegal to own. 

I cannot just go to Egypt and pull a chunk of plaster off one of their tombs. 

I flat don't care if anyone else doesn't like it. I don't have it hanging for them.

But it turns out they do. 

In fact, one very large fresco I designed for Dr. Fred and his wife to hang in their condominium on Cheesman. Cool place. The elevator takes you straight up to their apartment. Ding. The elevator opens to their apartment interior. It takes the whole floor. The elevator door opens and BANG there is my paining. 

Boys in a row carrying things to an offering. Weird things. You cannot even tell what they are carrying. One boy has a goose on rope mid-step with the rope taught. The goose is going the opposite direction. When the step is completed it will flip the goose in the same direction as the boys. So tension is drawn into the painting. They're cute little kids. Two brothers are holding hands. Hieroglyphs are drawn in columns across the whole thing.

When they moved to Genesee Mountain, similar deal. You open the front door BOOM my painting is the first thing that you see. Their art collection was extensive. They had a lot of expensive things. But my painting had primary position in both places.

The man with the horrible Picasso has a girlfriend whom I know. We never talked about any of my paintings. I was told by somebody else that the horrible Picasso owing guy was executor of Fred's estate. His girlfriend wanted that painting so he made sure she got it. She owns the painting in Connecticut. Neither of them ever mentioned this to me. They wanted my art that someone else owned and they got it. But all that with no mention to me. Not one single word ever about anything that I drew or painted or that anyone else owned. 

I just now remembered. That was a gift. Once given its out of my hands and I don't really care what happens to them. But way back at the beginning Fred's wife kept trying to devise ways of expressing her thanks. The painting was really for her. Fred liked it because she did. She offered tickets to fly anywhere but I wasn't in the mood to travel just for the sake of  traveling. 

Eventually she had a very large cake made for my birthday (carrot with cream cheese frosting) decorated to duplicate the main lines of the painting. The bakery uses a photograph slide projected onto a blank cake then copies it. It was a huge cake and a fair approximation. This was before I photographed everything myself so I don't have a photograph of the painting but I do have a photograph of the cake. 

I can hear someone saying my art is crap for being derived but I don't care. Neither does the guy with the awful Picasso and neither did Jeffrey Epstein. 

4 comments:

edutcher said...

Rip, I think he's trying to tell us something.

XRay said...

So Bill's a bitch.

Amartel said...

I read that this was a mass-produced poster but who knows if that's even true.
It's oddly aggressive, the pointing. The pointing is annoying. Like Bubba's saying, "Gotcha!" or something equally irritating. Haha, not who you thought I was. Gotcha. (Rest of the nation: Wake us when you have something interesting to say.) While wearing a symbolically blue dress. And the red shoes. Isn't that THE thing to wear to dance on someone's grave? I guess we're just lucky there's no naked and/or dead children in the picture. Don't feel the need to waste too much more time analyzing the tedious and degrading semiotics of "the elite" and their fucking silly fartwork.

Joe Jackson said...

It's sublime...

whatever that means.