Bathroom Art

In our newish house, whenever I sat down in the bathroom, I noticed my eye would always be glued to this blank spot on the wall.
This was a place that needed to be filled with art, so I took this small portrait of a 1920s? businessman, made him into a doctor
and hung him there, where he could stare back at the occupant of the throne. He says, "Do not be alarmed! I am a Physician! Don’t get up!
My interest is purely clinical..and I’ve seen it all!" He is holding some kind of invasive instrument and floating next to him is an enema bag.

Here is how it looks hanging in the bathroom!

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Your Hidous Baby Is Adorable!

PREBREEN

When my son was born, his still bloody squalling wrinkled body was put in my hands, and it was as if a switch was pulled in my brain. An instant surging electric connection! I thought then he was the most beautiful thing on this planet. After getting back from the hospital, my wife and I would take every opportunity to shove our 10 pounds of poop smelling heaven under the nose of every adult that came within range, eager to share the beauty of our creation. Yes! Our DNA made that beautiful thing! What a miracle! Women would fawn over him,. Men, a little more standoffish, couldn’t they see what I saw, that this brilliant baby Jesus thing was so pure and golden you just wanted to weep for joy whenever the thought of Him even entered your mind!

Of course, I shook it off eventually. We found some photos of Little Breen’s just born visage the other day, and I had trouble reconciling the memory I had with the reality of the photo. Because he was, well, hideous. In certain countries of this world the father, seeing the imperfection and not wishing to offend God, would unceremoniously take the child out back and drown him in the well. I realized that either our friends were just humoring us when Baby Breen was born, although many women seem to be vastly more susceptible to baby voodoo than men. And though Mrs. Breen concurred that our son did not, in these photos, appear to be as cute as we had thought at the time, she will still coo like a pigeon when a new born enters the room. I slink to a corner trying to hide my horror of the newly minted monster.

When I found this giggling painting in the flea market last week, I decided to unmask it, and bring out its true nature. The original background, painted in dark orange, reddish, brown had a kind of hellish look, so I kept much of it. This is not a baby you would shake. It would only make it angry. You don’t want to make this baby angry. The painting was a little too harsh so I added some flowers to lighten the mood!

Of course, you know I’m just kidding. YOUR baby is beautiful!

POSTBREEN

To buy this painting go HERE.

Nose to the Grindstone!

I’ve had this gentleman moping around, getting way too comfortable in the studio.

PREBREEN

He looked kind of sad, weary really. He had that kind of look that says, "Oh crap! It’s Monday!"

So I thought, you want Monday, I’ll give you Monday fella!

I put him in a yoke like an ox, so he could drag his huge steel, chained and weighted Monday around
behind him, all Marley ghost-like. Then I gave him a grindstone to hold because he has to work and
shove his schnoze against it – I made his nose a little bloody since he works so hard. Rats run a race at
the base of the painting and bills flutter down, reminding us why he is locked into this rut.
After all this, I realize it needed more. After all, how could he continue, how is Monday even remotely endurable
without…without..COFFEE! So I turned his head into a giant coffee cup and filled it right up with black java, the
breenish beverage of choice, 6 cups a day!

POSTBREEN

To buy this piece, please goHERE.

I was going to do all the days of the week, but Mrs. Breen very sensibly asked, "what are you going to do with Tuesday?
There is nothing special about Tuesday. No one even care about Tuesday!" I had to agree with her. Maybe Friday, Saturday or
Sunday, but Tuesday and Wednesday are hard to work up any enthusiasm over. I’m undecided. Do any of you have any
feelings at all about those faceless days that just seem to be filler for the rest of the week? Filler! I just answered my own question!