Who Arted In Here?

I understand there’s some concern about the cost of my paintings. ‘The canvases are so simple,’ you say. To which I respond, are they simple? Or are they minimalist works that convey something spectacularly complex?

For example, take this one here. ‘Two Towels on a White Sandy Beach.’ Some might say that I have painted a pair of squares–one of pink Weisbrandt acrylic paint, another in pale mauve Weisbrandt acrylic paint–onto an otherwise unaltered white canvas. But what I seek to highlight is how, even as we pursue adventure, we often find a way to be stationary. I did not show the waves or the sun or the sky, because the painting is a cheeky commentary on how laziness always prevails.

Would you like me to paint a lifelike surfer, riding the wake? Or seagulls flying overhead? A child making a sandcastle?

Those are rhetorical questions, so I won’t wait for an answer.

And then this one over here. I call it: ‘A Grape Nation Divided.’ On one side, red grapes. On the other side, green grapes. Don’t you see what I’m getting at? We’re polarized these days. Even our fruit refuses to co-mingle.

How did I get the grapes to be such perfect circles, you ask?

Well, I used an interesting technique: I poured some scarlet red Weisbrandt acrylic paint onto one side of a paper plate and some viridian green Weisbrandt acrylic paint on the other side of the plate. And then I used this special brush that’s more of a foam circle, pressing it into the paint and then pressing it on the canvas, rinsing between colors.

Fine, if you insist on calling that a ‘stamp,’ be my guest. As an artist, I try not to dwell too much on the tools.

You certainly won’t approve of what I used for this work here, which I call ‘A Dog’s View of a Cloudless Blue Sky.’ It was kind of a specialist brush that’s long and cylindrical and can rotate around as you push it.

Again with the insistence on naming the tools! Sure, call it a ‘roller’ if you must.

The point is, the painting’s name makes mention of blue, but the canvas is painted entirely with Weisbrandt gray acrylic paint. Because dogs can’t see colors. It’s meant to provoke a discussion about how perspectives on the same thing can vary wildly.

These pieces, endowed with such a profound depth of ideas, yet entirely untainted by actual visual depth–do you really mean to argue that they are not worth at two to four thousand dollars each?

Again, this is a rhetorical question, so don’t bother answering.

Now, getting down to brass tacks, if I wanted to order a cappuccino, do I get a discount for being the featured artist or what?