The Old Black Velvet

An art, yesterday

I don't know much about art.

There, I've said it. The unsayable saidable.

I simply can't keep up with all this new-fangled art-world chicanery. I find this modern stuff particularly inexplicably unexplainable.

Take 'perspective' for instance. The work of the devil if you ask me.

But I do know what I like, and I like a good portrait-picture or action-picture on the old black velveteen. Eyes that follow you round the room. Maybe an elephant or two or a little boy with a tear rolling down his cheek.

So I've managed to go one better and have found a place which will accept a commission forunto me in a painting of which I will be centrepieced.

Check out the sample they sent me here.

Now, if everyone who reads this sent me just seventy pounds I could commission one of me in an Aztec-style-saving-a-laydee pose and hang it in my games room over my D.C. dolly display case.
Just in time for my grand public opening of Derrig Towers, more of which later.