Over the years countless artists have portrayed themselves as intensely tormented, deeply sensitive, highly troubled individuals, a romantic cliche that both artists and their public grew to embrace, cherish, expect and in some cases, demand. I’m not immune to this line of thought myself, in fact, I recently concluded that it might be time for me to get a piece of this seemingly timeless genre for myself. Hence, PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST.
Look at my eyes. You can tell they’ve seen way too much.
Look at the intensity with which I grasp the tools of my trade.
Look at the tattoo of Picasso’s Guernica which covers my balding pate.
And look how I’ve cut off my ear to show you that I REALLY MEAN IT.
It’s quite obvious that this artist is the Real Thing.
These days artists loose their ears from cancer caused by extensive phone usage. I actually wonder what the image of a ‘real artist’ is to a younger generation. For us, that Van Gogh persona was kind of it. Now it might be the bored cool of Warhol, or the missing persona of Banksy, or a money vacuum like Hirst.
You’re saying I’m going to have to vivisect myself and jump into a vitrine of formaldehyde? I’m on it. Whatever it takes to remain vital to the young uns. Since I’m living in Wisconsin now, I may have to share the vitrine with a heifer…
Is that a smudge on his shirt? Can’t forget the artist’s vow of poverty. And those pencil sharpening pupils…a nice touch of danger. Not easy to be intense and funny simultaneously!
I think I spilled coffee or cognac or absinthe or something while getting the right intense gaze.
Pencil sharpening pupils? Dang, now that the ear is finished, I guess it’s time to go for the vision. Ouch! Thanks for the suggestion…
Portrait of an Artist
PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST
Pencil on Paper
40"h by 30"w