So I bought a painting. I like it very much, the crisp lines, the appealing colors, I just think it has a casual charm.
The artist says it’s called Wave; I suppose it’s from the Excessively Obvious school. He’s a very nice guy I met on the street this afternoon while he was touching up some of his graffiti, graffiti which covers lots of the plywood put up along Market Street storefronts when the BLM protests were happening. The protests are gone but the plywood lives on now as a canvas for Brett. He wouldn’t tell me his last name, which is pretty understandable, I guess, since what he’s doing is not excessively legal.
Brett’s work inhabits the intersection of a personal Venn diagram of mine. For one thing I have admired the graffiti for a while and had considered writing a blog post about all of it. It’s just one of the many ideas I have for post that I never got around to. I got lots of ’em.
The other part of the diagram is just one of those serendipitous charms of living in a small town. A few years ago Super Agent Fred and I were noodling down Castro Street when we saw some guy with his paintings spread out on the sidewalk trying to sell them. I announced to Fred that I was going to buy one when we returned, but by the time we got back the guy was gone. I now know the artist was Brett.
I have regretted not being more on my toes about snagging that picture. I never connected the long-lost painting with the graffiti I so admired, but after I complimented Brett on his graffiti work, he offered to show me a couple of pieces he had in his car. As soon as I saw them I realized they were from the same hand as the works I had missed out on and made up for dithering and losing previously by buying the painting right then.
I am so grateful to fate for putting Brett and his paintings back in my path. And so now I am an art patron, a regular fucking Medici.
Guys who are works of art:
I have such a weakness for pretty boys.
Like Depeche Mode says “Words are very unnecessary”
When I first saw this, I really hoped those Hello Kitties were tattoos, but much closer examination proves gthem to be just stickers. How cruelly disappointing.
I adore Speedos that show a bit o’ crack.
What a little sweetie.