Art Critiques From a Man With No Taste
- Mark Paleologopoulos
- Dec 5, 2023
- 21 min read
Updated: Mar 7
In the vein of the social media trend of listing a top ten of favorite items, I present some artwork of dubious authenticity along with descriptions of questionable veracity from an uninformed philistine.
1 - Les Bois Derrière Ma Maison by Pierre De Fondulamisonfru - 1948
2 - Sad Giraffe by Alan Visavis – 1975
3 - 2010 Delaware Health and Safety Code Article 4. Handwashing by Unknown – 2010
4 - Hey, Check Me Out by Silvestri Bernaise – 1250-ish
5 - Gundakar, Prince of Dietrichstein by Jan Thomas – 1667
6 - Dondi Forlorn by Shirley Karnevil – 1961
7 - Gopher Hole by Jackson Pollock (maybe) – 1948
8 - Saint Barthelemy, the Apostle by Matteo di Giovanni di Bartolo – 1451
9 - The Game of Blind Man’s Buff by Konstantin Makovsky – 1890
10 - Super Bowl 1973 Larry Csonka by LeRoy Neiman (maybe) – 1973
Number 1 - Les Bois Derriere Ma Maison
This angry guy ahead of me in the checkout line at Walmart challenged me to name my ten favorite paintings of all time. It took quite a while to pare them down, as my taste in art is so eclectic. My favorites range from Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood to Fauvism to good old-fashioned vaguely nude abstracts of indeterminate gender. I mused and catalogued in my mind the cherished memories of perusing countless coffee table books in houses I’ve burgled over the years. My Walmartian friend gave up waiting after fifteen minutes and left, but I felt called to take up the gauntlet[1] he had dropped in his exasperation.
Anyway, I’ve chosen as one of my top ten, the masterpiece Les Bois Derrière Ma Maison by the French Realist, Pierre De Fondulamisonfru from 1948. This exquisite work of art juxtaposes the wild beauty of nature with the ceramic bowl of abject shittiness that is humanity. It is one of the finest examples of post-Revolution Introuvité, rivaling the masters of the genre. When art historians discuss this nonpareil French artist, they speak in reverent, hushed tones about Pierre, due to his current status as a poltergeist.
Against the dystopian backdrop of post-World War II Travail-en-Châtillon-Puisayé-sur-Réglèmént, in northeastern France, the artist partially overcame tragic-yet-not-unforseen physical challenges to achieve this triumph of human endeavor. De Fondulamisonfru was a voyeur by trade until a chance encounter with an angry neighbor resulted in him sustaining a beating which left his testicles severely and permanently bruised. Also, Pierre’s eyes were cruelly, but liberally (and justifiably) sawdusted[2]. Les Bois Derrière Ma Maison was De Fondulamisonfru’s first completed painting following the incident.
This painting is the third in a series of five. The other four were mistaken for stains, and burned by his housekeeper and protégé, Magnifique.[3] Unfortunately, for the world, this talented artist would grow to hate painting, and eventually lose his life at the age of 34 in a tragic accident when he mistakenly tried to milk his pet bull, Filet. Years later, Magnifique immortalized her mentor with the famously crappy oil-on-canvas portrait, Monsieur Peeper’s Lament.[4]
De Fondulamisonfru’s greatest surviving work is on display alongside Magnifique’s excrescent splattering at the Musée De Merde in Sauvignon. If you’re lucky enough to find this quaint and virtually empty museum while traveling through France, I recommend taking the full tour. You probably won’t be disappointed. It will only take fifteen minutes unless your docent is Helene, in which case you’ll be out of there in forty-five. She just will not fermez her bouche. The baguettes in the gift shop are to die for though.
[1] It was actually a rubber glove, like the ones one would use when dissolving a body.
[2] Sawdusting, at the time, was a vindictive and sadistic form of abuse used to punish and hopefully blind the victim. The modern meaning of the term is too disgusting to relate. I just wanted to provide historical context.
[3] When I said Magnifique was a protégé, I was being kind. She was really no more than a doodler who made excellent sauces. Top of Form
[4] Monsieur Peeper’s Lament was developed into a play by Jean-Paul Sartre who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1964 for something else entirely.
Number 2 - Sad Giraffe
A man wearing a barrel held up by suspenders reminded me I had to post my ten favorite paintings of all time. Next up is Sad Giraffe by the American Paint-by-Numberist Alan Visavis, revealed to the world in 1975 at the height of the Psychomanic Era. Oft-copied, but never matched, this painting, to me, speaks of hunger, secrets, and betrayal; the darkness that dwells in all of us. Sad Giraffe’s eyes devour me. I feel as if he could reach into the deep pool of mysteries residing in my soul and describe all that I am and all that I will ever be. The famous art critic, Charles Suzanne, said of this piece, “Alan perfectly captured the magnificent beast’s vapid, yet unfathomable expression of vacant animal stupidity tinged with melancholy. It is stunning. I am in awe.”[1]
To achieve such an intimate portrait, Visavis, ever the perfectionist, crafted the mesmerizing background in his studio using 427 cans of Krylon Black ColorMaxx 121, sprayed over the course of 36 hours to reach the perfect sheen. Notably, Sad Giraffe is the heaviest painting in history for its frame size, due to the more than 3,500 coats of spray paint. Weeks later, after rehab and physical therapy,[2] Visavis chained the giraffe in his neighbor’s orchard and painted while perched in a tree. Originally, he intended to replicate the ruminant’s natural coloring, but he opted for bold colors, citing the desires of his long-time companion, Tallulah Farb.
“She wanted psychedelic, man. When the ol’ lady talks, you gotta listen, man. If I was gonna do the giraffe again, I’d probably just go with a blue sky and some clouds, honestly. The damn thing kept falling off the branch and I musta had to climb that @#$$#$ tree fifty times.”[3]
Sad Giraffe was controversial in its time. Alan’s contemporaries and critics were divided over whether the Giraffe was truly depressed or just going through a rough patch. The artist, when asked about the debate, would always reply with a shrug and his famous catchphrase, ‘Hey, it’s art, baby’. Visavis is also famous for Sad Walrus and Sad Chicken, but Sad Giraffe is his crowning achievement and a painting for the ages.
In his later years, Visavis shunned the limelight. He formally went off the grid in 1993 and began a cross-country tour of barbecue joints until a massive heart attack in Stillwater, Oklahoma put an end to his traveling. After his release from the Chet Gould Trauma Center, he returned to New Jersey to live his life as a recluse to avoid his fans. Eventually he did return to his great love, painting. For the last two years of his life, he found contentment and reward experimenting with techniques and media. Always the trend-setter, Visavis extended the boundaries of the avant-garde anonymously as the Pickle Painter of Piscataway doing caricatures in the parking lot of the Hose Shop on New England Avenue.
You can enjoy all of Visavis’ sad work in his nephew’s garage/museum on Elston Rd in Montclair.[4]
[1] Charles Suzanne – So Much Art Is Just Awful (1981 Hatje Cantz Verlag)
[2] Visavis spent 37 days in the Fall of 1974 suffering from acute bronchioencephaly at the famed skilled nursing facility known as Embarkation Point at Grey Havens on Staten Island, New York.
[3] Face To Face With Visavis – The New Yorker (April 1977)
[4] If he’s home, that is. He has REM Study Group meetings on the first and third Thursdays of every month except December.
Number 3 - 2010 Delaware Health and Safety Code Article 4. Handwashing
Jim Cantore of the Weather Channel coaxed me via waterboarding to continue my top ten list of favorite paintings of all time. The third painting on my list will be somewhat familiar to anyone who has used a public restroom. It is known by several names, but the title most often associated with this masterpiece is 2010 Delaware Health and Safety Code Article 4. Handwashing or HSCS 113952-113961, for short.
Many have attempted to convey this important and life-saving message, but no one has ever come close to this level of naked passion, raw emotion, and artistry. The gifted artist has never been identified despite exhaustive efforts by teams of art historians, journalists, and paranormal investigators through the years.[1] Sadly, we may never be graced and inspired by their genius again. What a loss for humanity, especially in these dark times. I need to take a moment.
Note the distinct lack of brush strokes (a sign of preternaturally steady hands). And what is that color? Is it Cornflower? Is it Cerulean? Is it Savoy? Is it Liberty? I call it Blue. The controversy rages on. Also, the blue kisses the white(?) in such a way that we can almost hear the voice of the artist trying to impart, perhaps, the word of God, his or herself. Those hands could belong to any of us.
The surface message is clear, but we can experience so much more if we surrender ourselves to its depths. It would take a gigantic tome, compiled over centuries, to catalog everything that is going on with the hands. Erotica, comedy, mathematics, the futility of breathing, a new dimension of reality, ebb and flow, call and response, life and death; they are all there. Hope, despair, pride, conceit, evil, brown; these are also words.
Now, I could stare at this painting for hours and never perceive or detect every nuance in this exquisite work of art. That is, if the security guard at the turnpike rest stop between exits 37 and 38 would let me. Alas, I am not even allowed in Delaware anymore, thanks to Judge Art Hater (real name – Timmy “Little Bitch” Bitchington (real name – Jack Ass (real name – Phil Isteen (real name – Dick (real name – Judge Timothy Bender[2])))).
I don’t know about you, but when I look at this painting - I mean really look at it - I not only wash my hands. I search my soul. Thank you for this gift, whoever you are.
[1] Most researchers credit Delaware native and Goldey-Beacom College graduate Nancy Fellows who interned in the Delaware State House as a junior. Ms. Fellows vehemently denies having anything to do with the piece. In a press conference convened by her family, she cursed and flipped off the attending press, declaring, ‘Go to Hell, you syphilitic vultures.’. The controversy still rages.
[2] The Honorable Timothy Bender (real name) can suck it.
Number 4 - Hey, Check Me Out
A female Don Knotts impersonator emailed me to ask why I had stopped posting my ten favorite paintings of all time. My next choice is the tempera on parchment classic Hey, Check Me Out from a series of seven paintings by an anonymous artist known as the Bute Master. After painstaking research, I made up the name Silvestri Bernaise of Reims and proclaimed him the artist.
Bernaise got his start traveling to random villages and painting crude cartoons on the walls of barns, to be found by illiterate peasants in the morning. Because porn sites hadn’t been invented yet, he quickly became famous for his filth. Soon, the nobility discovered him, and he immediately sold out. He was asked to add his touch in the margins of manuscript and prayer books. His series, Fools Without Pants, was painted in the mid 1200’s. He claimed that Fools Without Pants tells the story of the creation of man and his mirroring of the universe in his own physical constitution. Perhaps, but to me, his art subtly shows the cruel feliticiousness of time, and the dispanding melovagaries of balsic deventuviosity[1].
Throughout all that seriousness, our dear fool finds a way to tickle our funny bones. Today’s artists and cartoonists cannot hold a candle to the comic artists of the Dark Ages. Long before classic comedy like Punch and Judy shows and Kicking the Cripple Tournaments were mass produced for ignorant serfs, the Fool was touring like the Louis C.K. of the time. They were Dark Ages.
The first time I came across Hey, Check Me Out, I spent hours trying to discern whether Bernaise’s fool was carrying a stick or was the artist exaggerating the fool’s manhood. And why give him such seriously droopy and probably diseased balls? In the end, I concluded that Silvestri wanted to leave it up to our own interpretation. We are left to decide whether the Fool is making fun of himself, everyone, or just you.
Bernaise followed the convention of the time by employing a uniform gray skin tone instead of trying to show the splotches, lesions, and patchiness with which those filthy depraved “entertainers” were justly and fittingly inflicted. The career of a fool in those times rarely lasted more than ten years as their act always got old, and they were then sacrificed to appease the many vampires and werewolves roaming the countryside searching for sullen teenage girls and smart-alecky, poxy simpletons.
Sadly, Bernaise’s career was cut short by one of the tragic sicknesses that killed millions of people every few years back then. When not painting, Silvestri was a chef at Pommebee’s, but he did not, despite what the history books say, invent Bernaise Sauce. Sauce Béarnaise was accidentally invented years later by noted French chef, Chacun Asongout. Silvestri was the inventor of the french fry.[2]
Hey, Check Me Out hangs in the Musée de Fou in Tours along with the other six lesser-known masterpieces from Bernaise’s Fools series. You will also find works by other French Fool artists, all of whom declined to sign the evidence of their involvement in this sick kink. Admission is free, but you pay by the second when viewing the art. I suggest you hustle, or you’ll be paying beaucoup d’argent.
[1] I just wanted to make you look up the definition of words on the internet, like I had to.
[2] Bernaise’s fries were originally made with mashed dandelions and other invasive weeds. The paste was then rolled by filthy hands into long worms and pan-fried till crispy with all the garlic[3] that could be found at hand using sweat to lubricate the pan.
[3] Of course.
Number 4 - Gundakar, Prince of Dietrichstein
A hunchbacked hobo wearing a ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ tee shirt broke into my house and forced me to continue adding to the list of my top ten favorite paintings of all time. The fifth in the series is a portrait of Gundakar, Prince of Dietrichstein painted in 1667 by the Flemish painter, Jan Thomas. I usually don’t go in for portraits, but Thomas was able to combine my twin loves of gigantic hats and watching horses take a dump, so this one really gives me goosebumps.
Jan Thomas came from humble beginnings in Ypres, Flanders to become the court painter of the Habsburgs in Vienna. Thomas painted like a man possessed for many years, depicting the weak-chinned inbred nobility around Europe. Although trained under Rubens, he preferred to add clothing to all his nude subjects. He is quoted as saying, ‘I just can’t get the nipples right.’[1] Thomas’ style is often compared to the late Mannerists like cartoonist Franz Drckz and the legendary caricaturist, Snoopy Zrinsky. He is famous for portraying his subjects in vanitas, reminding the viewer of the temporary nature of all human endeavor.
At the time, the painting was critically panned as a ‘putrid, oozing, chancrous affront to God’s divine intentions’[2]. Luckily for Thomas, it soon attained cult status after a series of midnight performances at various Viennese underground art galleries. Patrons attended individually, wearing enormous head gear, or in pairs as pantomime horses with enormous head gear. Eventually, an ambitious troupe launched a stage show complete with synchronized horse ballet and songs regaling the exploits of the prince. The musical ended after four performances when the prince found out the finale was a dramatized foreshadowing of his own death by trampling.
The painting itself is fascinatingly curious. The dimensions of both horse and rider seem a little off. The face of the subject of the painting is simplistic and underscored, perhaps symbolizing the gypsy moth level IQ of most royal personages in Dietrichstein and surrounding areas. It is said the headdress alone weighed seventy-five pounds leading Thomas to give Gundakar googly eyes to mask the pain and discomfort of the prince.
Other facts:
- The ‘ghost’ in Scooby-Doo episode 47 ‘Scooby Doo and the Haunted Castle’ was based on the Gundakar, Prince of Dietrichstein.
- Gundakar was named after Gundakar Montenazzo, the noted ne’er-do-well and sluggard.
- The original hangs in the gift shop of the Ypres Horse Museum and Hattery (35 Euros)
[1] Friedrich Goschdamn – The Life and Times of Jan the Man (1995 Regnery Publishing)
[2] Algernon Florio – Art Critic for the Wiener Laugenbrezel (May, 1668)
Number 6 - Dondi Forlorn
A wise old circus clown in civilian clothes named Brutus Pullmyfinger tricked me into continuing my top ten list of favorite paintings of all time. Number six is Dondi Forlorn. For those people who have been living under a rock for 70 years, Dondi was a comic strip about an Italian war orphan trafficked to the US during WWII by two American soldiers. For decades, beginning in 1955, Dondi charmed American newspaper readers with his antics and adventures. Did I mention it was hilarious? No? There’s a reason for that. Still, I am drawn to it for reasons I can’t describe.
The creators of this strip, Gus Edson and Irwin Hasen, became instant global celebrities. Of course, with success comes imitators and unscrupulous scoundrels of all kinds, looking to get a piece of Dondimania. One of these scoundrels was an elementary school teacher and kazooist named Shirley Karnevil. She started the first Dondi fan club in 1958. Calling themselves Dondilions, they met every morning to read the strip and laugh until they cried. Don’t look at me. I didn’t make up the name. And that was the standing agenda.[1]
Anywho, Karnevil, an accused Satanist, flouted the almost non-existent copyright and intellectual property laws of the time, and painted/stole this spectacular work of art. As you can probably tell, Dondi was a homely and moody child, and this watercolor captures the essence of this fictional two-dimensional character.
As is common with Dondi Art, the misery and sadness of this poor scarred boy’s wretched existence is punctuated by lazily produced blobs of evil pitch-black eyes and a flap of skin without nostrils for a nose. The true wickedness of the artist though, is evidenced by the fact that it’s impossible to produce such diabolical Stygian blackness in watercolor without being in league with the devil. Also, Dondi is holding a detached human thumb there. I rest my case. Further, if you turn the painting upside down and gaze into Dondi’s eyes, you will be immediately possessed by the imp, Jaziub, who will force you to insert cracked walnut shells into your own rectum.[2]
The original hangs in the Louvre, but you can pick one up cheaply at Bed Bath and Beyond, Christmas Tree Shops, and Meineke Muffler Shops nationwide.
[1] Actual agenda found tucked in Karnevil’s personal Satan-signed copy of the Necronomicon
[2] Among other infernal things
Number 7 - Gopher Hole
A Mrs. Esther Garble, a retired widow/stripper from Florida who went by the stage name of Foxy Sarasota wanted to know what happened to that list of my ten favorite paintings of all time. This is the seventh and it comes from one of the Masters. Jackson Pollock[1] was an American painter and a major figure in the Abstract Expressionist movement, whatever that is. His real name is Paul Jackson Pollock, but he went by Jackson because Paul is apparently not ‘artistic’ enough. For some reason, this painting is the most affordable Pollock original. It’s called Gopher Hole, and it’s awesome.
This piece is non-representational, which is a fancy way of saying it doesn’t look like anything. He painted this on fiberboard using resin-based paint in case you want to try this yourself. Many sources describe Pollock’s method (some call it madness) in detail, but I don’t feel like doing all your research for you. For my purposes, I will describe his method as ‘randomly dripping paint’. Gopher Hole is large, colorful, and rectangular, and if you stare through it the right way, you’ll see a turtle.
This painting was originally painted in 1953 and sold for $27 in 1954. Pollock basically was metaphorically phoning it in during this time. He created Gopher Hole by dipping the handset from a Western Electric phone into paint cans of green, dung and, I’m going to say, tan[2] and dangling it by the cord like a pendulum. The intended canvas from the floor was purchased at a private auction in 2023 for $270. It’s a big secret who owns it, but we all get to enjoy it through the chaotic magic of the internet.
It is reported Pollock dripped, poured, flicked, flung, spattered, and drizzled 363 masterpieces[3] in his 44-year lifetime. Reviewing his work, one can recognize a shape or face here or there. However, most of his paintings are a chaos of swirls, drops, and dribbles that almost, but not quite, coalesce into sublime perfection. We’ll never know what kind of legacy he would have had if he had lived longer. What we do know is that he stopped painting after the car accident that killed him in 1956.
Pollock is considered by some to be America’s greatest artist. His career was short, but influential. Being the first American to ever try their hand at art, generations that follow owe their careers to him. If he hadn’t broken through the canvas ceiling, we would have never heard of Andy Warhol, Alistair B. Smithers, or George W. Bush.
If you want to get drawn into a sordid rabbit hole, do some digging into Pollock’s life and legacy. He was a white-hot mess. If you want to skip the research, you can find the movie they made about his life in 2000 on Pluto TV. I was going to watch it, but it sounded depressing. You know what they say, ‘Substance abuse is not entertaining.’. Still, the last time one of his paintings sold it went for $140 million. I did not buy it, but it’s a good sign for the economy when some people have that kind of money.
[1] Not to be confused with the Jackson Pollock test (a way of measuring body fat used by the ancient Greeks), or the North Atlantic marine fish.
[2] It could also be Dead Straw - rgb(212, 196, 162). Dung is rgb(65, 54, 342), in case you’re wondering.
[3] It is estimated by the Jackson Pollock Society that only 52% of his paintings can be classified as masterpieces. The other 48% were just regular pieces.
Number 8 - Saint Barthelemy, the Apostle
My mailman with the nagging wet cough told me he wouldn’t deliver my mail unless I finished the top ten list of my favorite paintings of all time. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this next one sooner. Eighth on the list is Saint Barthelemy, the Apostle by Matteo di Giovanni di Bartolo (ca. 1430-1495), also known as Matteo da Siena. It is a striking and frankly disgusting portrayal of one of Jesus Christ’s apostles post-flaying, and presumably post-death. Notable for being oil painted on wood, it is also possibly the first example of a botched photoshop job in history. Di Giovanni chose to take the face from Bartholomew’s Tinder profile and replace the actual visage of indescribable pain that would have induced horror and projectile vomiting from viewers.
Bart[1] is not wearing a red spandex body suit. According to legend, pagans were not receptive to the early Christian sales reps. It was the kind of job you take for a year just to get your foot in the door. There are several more graphic representations out there of Bart’s flaying. In Di Giovanni’s piece, Bart flirts shamelessly with the viewer with his own skin draped over his shoulder. Critically, I am awed by the genius. Aesthetically, this doesn’t work for me because I don’t like seeing people’s exposed feet. Remember he was trying to capture the world of barely AD. It was a different time.
Young Matteo was adopted by Giovanni and Bartolo, a same-sex couple who owned a B&B in Sanselpolcro, Italy. His early influences were the miniaturist, Virgil del Cremora, and the most famous of the Italian Renaissance sadists, Pecurio Solomio. From my studies in Italian restaurants across New Jersey, I was able to get a glimpse into the psyche of the artist. There is no doubt in my mind, DiGi, as he was known around Siena, was insane, but there is also no doubt, the man could paint the Hell out of a human body. I am fascinated and sickened by this painting. I mean, he even got both feet and hands in there on the skin stole with the correct number of fingers and toes. I must give credit where credit is due.
Not all the artists’ works were depictions of torture and violence, but he is most famous for Massacre of the Innocents.[2] I’m just saying. Despite being a twisted ghoul, DiGi was a popular influencer who was commissioned for many pieces around Italy. There were more artsy-fartsy painters during the Renaissance than syphilitic peasants, but DiGi was one of the best. Fascinatingly, Bart the Apostle was, for a time, misattributed to the amateur painter and early Mafia henchman, Antonio del Pollaiolo, aka Tony Chicken. His work can be found in many churches and museums, such as Santa Benicio Del Toro of the Apocalypse and the Museo di Capicola.
[1] No, I am not going to keep typing Bartholemy over and over again.
[2] Don’t google it.
Number 9 - The Game of Blind Man’s Buff
My parole officer, who I am secretly dating, threatened to report me for sexual negligence if I didn’t continue my top ten list of favorite paintings of all time. This next one is one of my favorites because it’s playful. Like me. When the average person strikes up a conversation at a dinner party about Russian realist painters, Konstantin Makovsky always comes up. Игра в жмурки or The Game of Blind Man’s Buff is quintessential Makovsky. Painted in 1890 as a birth day present for the son of his best pal, Boris Molotov, Blind Man’s Buff[1] skillfully depicts how dreadfully boring life was for the wealthy Russians of the time. The peasants in the rural areas occupied themselves with menial tasks such as evading bears and growing crops during the three-week long growing season.[2] The wealthy entertained themselves by drinking heavily and laughing at the blind.
Makovsky was a very successful and influential artist. He kept it romantic, and he kept it real. He was adept at capturing the beauty of his subjects in portraits of the rich and naked, people of different races and cultures, and many ugly people as well. He was surprisingly prolific for an artist from a family of artists. Officially, he is credited with 366 paintings, 102 sketches, and 3,619 doodles. It’s almost worth the hassle of a trip to Russia to appreciate Makovsky’s genius. Russians flock to the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow, the Russian Museum in St. Petersburg, and numerous other lesser-known and more-er filthy museums to appreciate his stellar career.
In this painting, several young people, dressed in several layers to fight off the cold, scamper around a teenage woman who is probably only days away from being sold off to an old widower in Kamchatka. Their smiles of glee are not shared by the adolescent peasant-turned-mother who is raising the illegitimate daughter of her master, the dude in the doorway. The baby will never be recognized as his progeny, but at least she doesn’t have to grow up eating straw soup and sleeping in a hut. The lady of the house is seen on the right with her drunken first-born daughter. It was very common for wealthy Russian families to have seven out of ten children survive childbirth. What is less common is for the mother to survive that many births.
Russian history is fascinating, and the work of artists like Makovsky is invaluable for scholars of all disciplines to understand how these young carefree scamps went on to produce generations of Marxist Commies. According to Politburo sources, Vladimir Lenin owned the largest collection of Makovskies in the world. Legend has it that Lenin had the hots for Makovsky’s third wife Maria. His love burned so hot for her, he was buried on top of the artist’s painting, Maria Naked On the Bearskin Rug. No one dares investigate the truth to that rumor, but another legend has it that Putin had two men roll Lenin aside and pull out the painting. He then poisoned them with Polonium-210, set them on fire, and threw them out of a high window.
[1] You wouldn’t believe how many old-ass paintings there are of people playing Blind Man’s Buff or Bluff as it is now known by me. Look for yourself. It’s amazing how bored people were back then without Tik Tok.
[2] In fact, Russia has huge swaths of land that are perfect suitable for farming up to 16 to 18 weeks a year.
Number 10 - Super Bowl 1973 Larry Csonka
The guy who sells me my scratch tickets kept pestering me to finish my list of top ten favorite paintings of all time. It was extremely difficult to choose the final masterpiece for the list. So many works of art would not make the cut, and doubtless I would offend some fans. After hours of soul searching and weeping, I decided to select one from my favorite American artist, LeRoy Neiman, Super Bowl 1973 Larry Csonka[1]. This piece may or may not be a real Neiman. There are so many copycats out there. What do I look like, an art expert?
Every piece of Neiman’s work is instantly recognizable and unquestionably unfinished. From the moment I read the title, I could tell I was looking at the amazing Zonk. Larry Csonka, perhaps most famous for being involved in the Miracle at the Meadowlands, actually had an exceptional career as a running back in the National Football League, commonly known as the NFL. In fact, he was inducted into something called a Hall of Fame.
A Neiman is a work of art in the same way a pristine virgin color-by-number book is art. Often it’s up to the viewer to fill in the voids with one’s own tears of joy (or sadness). The bold colors and dynamic tones have been found to be effective in the treatment of depression.[2] The subject is captured in medio actionis in such vivid reality that one can almost feel the impending impact and smell the pungent body odor of nearby combatants. Who needs a complete picture when one’s mind can imagine and complete the artist’s work for him? Is Neiman lazy or brilliant? He certainly was prolific.
Neiman’s oeuvre includes paintings and prints of sports figures and sporting events, naked ladies, animals and animal crackers, crime scenes, landscapes and cityscapes, airport baggage claim areas, portraits, and Cracker Barrel menus. Neiman’s original artwork will set you back a couple of hundred thousand, but I’d be shocked if there was a house in America which does not have a Neiman print hanging on a wall.
As to why I chose Zonk from the thousands of Neiman’s works, I can’t explain with words. I will now try to convey my feelings about this painting by singing the chorus to Purple[3] Rain. Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
I only want to see you bathing
In the purple rain
Enough said.
The coolest thing about Neiman’s art is that one can spend hours marveling at both the simplicity and the complexity of a scene captured in a single image. Also, after spending all that time, one invariably comes away inspired, thinking, ‘I could do that.’.
[1] According to Google, Csonka is a Hungarian word meaning ‘truncated’, and is pronounced like Tonka, with a Z
[2] May also cause backaches, cold flashes, hot flashes, stroke, tubers, glandular swelling, weakness, pregnancy, deflabitating copivasiosis, butter allergy, or astral projection.
[3] Purple is a strange word.
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