Tag: wentworth gallery

Because of course I did, I went digging around in the innertubes to learn more about Mickey’s art hobby/scheme; what I found will astound you, if you’re not familiar with the well-worn trope of the Aging Rock Star. The ARS has taken up a habit other than, but just as pricey as drugs. The precise nature of the habit is variable. Too many to name chose golf. Some went with flying. Daltrey is obsessed with fishing. Phil Collins got really into the Alamo. (Not kidding.) And painting. Aging Rock Stars love to paint, and there’s always the same arc: interview in which the new interest is mentioned, article focused on the artwork, partnership with the Wentworth Gallery.

I’ll let the Wentworth Gallery explain itself:

No need to polish your glasses in an over-exaggerated and comic fashion: Yes, Virginia, the Wentworth Gallery just “also”-ed Picasso and Chagall.  Just look at this press release:

“The Wentworth Gallery is pleased to present such luminaries as Tony Curtis, John Wayne, John Wayne Bobbit, and the late Loretta Swit. We are also honored to feature the sculptures of Mr. Puttin’ On The Ritz himself, Taco, and have recently acquired a portrait of Soupy Sales, done in pencil, by Lita Ford. And there might be a Monet in back somewhere. Or is a Manet? One of those. French guy, dead, who gives a shit. Oh, we can also arrange for Bruce Dickinson to come to your home and paint a giant mural. Small caveat: Bruce gets to decide the topic, so it’s going to be about some battle that happened a billion years ago. Art!”

I’m just quoting. That formatting is called a “block-quote,” so therefore anything in there must be a quotation. They said that shit.

Stop it. That’s libel.

You’re awful fucking mouthy tonight, y’know that?

Wow.

Let a man do his work.

Jackass.

Anyway, the Wentworth Gallery is the upscale version of the store in the mall that sold the Leroy Nieman prints; their clientele is orthodontists who still rock, but they have to keep up their art world pretensions.–they can charge more if they’re snooty–and not list any of the prices on their site.

I was not to be so easily stymied.

So I googled it and found this site, but it didn’t have the prices, either, and I allowed myself to be stymied. But you haven’t seen the important part of this page.

Maybe you missed it.

I have so many questions.

• Do Bobby and Garcia own an art gallery?
• Why was I not informed of this?
• Can you own an art gallery if you died in 1995?
• Wouldn’t that be an impediment to small-business ownership?
• Is Bobby painting now, too?
• Bobby doesn’t do anything but play shows.
• He has no outside interests.
• He’s No Hobby Bobby.

Those last few weren’t questions.

I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF, FUCKFACE!

We’re going back to couples therapy.

Eat a goat’s grundle.

So: I leave it up to you, Enthusiasts. What the fuck is the Garcia Weir Gallery, and how much do Mickey’s paintings cost? I would look further, but am forbidden by the holy tenets of Without Research. You, however, are not; please do my homework for me. Thank you and buy American.

Hey, Mickey.

“Where were you? I thought you would be at my clusterfuck.”

I drove by. You brought in a big crowd.

“It was spectacular. Met some randos. Talked about drums.”

You love that.

“I do. My favorite subject. And I sold six paintings.”

Good for you.

“Like this one.”

I see. Very nice.

“The one I’m gesturing towards.”

I am aware to what you refer.

“Would you like a short lecture on the history of the tympani?”

God, no. Hey, how much does your art cost?

“Depends on the size. The big things are more expensive than the small stuff. Although, I guess it works that way with everything. Except modelling. Your plus-size gals get paid less than the skinny bitches. Otherwise, price scales with mass.”

Uh-huh. What does the piece you’re gesturing at cost?

“Whatever you want it to cost. Above the reserve, of course.”

And what is the reserve?

“That depends on your budget. Have we discussed your budget?”

TELL ME HOW MUCH YOUR DRUMHEAD DOODLE IS!

“TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE WILLING TO PAY FOR IT!”

…

“It’s like you don’t understand the art world, man.”

I guess I don’t.