This is me showing one of two frescos I painted and sold to the FRB. This photograph was used in both the branch's newsletter and the district's newsletter, a matter of interest to them not just because they bought two paintings from an employee but also because I used their shredded currency for binder.
They thought that was cute.
But it's actually the best material I've found and I tried a lot of things. Egyptians used hay so I tried that. I have a huge garbage bag full of this shredded currency, a lifetime supply. I should show you my million dollars someday.
The woman who took the picture really is short. Munchkin-size, actually.
It is a famous image, Musicians of Amun, Tomb of Nakht, 18th Dynasty, same dynasty as King Tut.
The other painting sold to the FRB is a portion of the Geese of Meidum, a very famous painting, the earliest of known fresco paintings depicting six Egyptian geese so realistically their species is identified: Egyptian goose. Psych! The one I sold was only the two colorful geese. Later, I sold another longer fresco of all six geese to a guy who hunts geese. There are antique wooden decoys all around it. Really cool.
When I left the FRB the painting of the two geese was hanging in a conference room where the awesome and impressive and intimidating gigantic table is and every time I had a meeting in there I was completely distracted by my own art. I criticized it in my mind. Found every fault by intense scrutiny. That is also the room where I set off to record t-bill auction results. I was the only one on the floor who could read that crap and make it sound like English.
The painting of the lady musicians was hanging in a smaller 3rd floor conference room and whenever I had a meeting in there I was hopelessly distracted by my own art criticizing every flaw I could detect, swearing to myself I'd give it another try. And I did.
And now I'm thinking the whole thing all over again. I agonize over every flaw no matter how great the painting looks in situ.
This is a carrot cake commissioned by the wife of a doctor who bought the original painting depicted on the cake's icing. The cake shop photographed the painting and projected it onto the blank screen of the carrot cake. She said it was fascinating to watch. They even copied the hieroglyphics.
A lot of effort and thoughtfulness was put into this cake. They kept thinking of things to reward me personally beyond cash payment, they offered generous flier miles but I wasn't interested in going anywhere. They offered other trips besides, with and without them, then finally she thought of this cake and I must say it was delicious. It fed a whole party then I took it to work and feed my whole department until it was gone.
This is an original composition. Four boys on their way with offerings. The items they carry are unclear, bread, ostrich eggs, something alien. There is a satellite dish among the hieroglyphs. The boy looking back has a goose on a rope by the neck taking off in the opposite direction. Contrary to Egyptian canon, the boys are caught in midstep. With the tension on the rope, the stepping forward while looking backward, the duck moving opposite, the viewer realizes the next step the line of boys takes together snaps the birds neck and whips it around with force. The painting has tension. But the cake does not.
It is a sweet painting. And it is large. And I am so well chuffed where I saw this painting hanging so considerately. I can tell they really loved this painting and so did their guests who saw it. First in a high rise abutting Cheesman park, way up there. Half the whole floor. The elevator door opens directly onto the apartment, BOOM, this painting. Stunning. Every person who walked into the place walked right into this painting, and it held its own very well with all the other art there. They always do.
The couple sold that condominium and bought a house on Genesee, top of the hill on I-70 where the stretched taffy bridge is at the tippy top, and lookout mountain on the other side, and a lot of hummingbirds. Stunning home on mountain property. First thing you see upon entering the home, BOOM, this painting.
They died. Both did. The girlfriend of the executor of the estate called, "DUBS!" on the painting, so before anybody could notice the thing was shipped off to Connecticut. I leaned that by third party, and it is fine with me. I know somebody loves it real well.
