Herewith, we name the painting

This would be the sketch (about which I spoke so ungraciously in an earlier post):



And this is the initial... the initial... the initial whatever. I need to develop some jargon for this stage. Perhaps "early iteration."

By Jove, that's it. Here's an early iteration (which, truth be told, was more likely the point at which I pulled Michele A. out and stapled her to the wall, hoping for some comfort):



And here, thankfully, is where we were at about six o'clock tonight (We've gone farther since then but we have no visual record to share):



All of which is well and good, but the title of the post says something about naming the goddam thing, so herewith, we name the painting.

As you can imagine, I have some thoughts--the first one being (albeit a bit too long):

David Tyree gives the Patriots a taste of some head cheese.

This is amusing. That said, I always wondered what head cheese actually is. I now know, and as a public service I am sharing a clip from Wikipedia:

Head cheese or brawn is in fact not a cheese, but rather a terrine of meat from the head of a calf or pig (sometimes a sheep or cow). It may also include meat from the feet and heart. It is usually eaten cold or at room temperature as a luncheon meat. It is sometimes also known as souse meat, particularly if pickled with vinegar.

Historically the cleaned (all organs removed) head was simmered to produce a gelatin (formed from the collagen in the bone) containing any incidental meat which came off the head. The more modern method involves adding gelatin to meat, which is then cooked in a mould.

Sheesh. This seems unattractive on a number of levels. I always just thought it was some kind of cheese.

Armed with this new knowledge, I then thought, "Hey, if my primary constituency is the financial community, maybe I should try tailoring it to that market." At which point I came up with:

Tyree debunks housing crisis; asks "What bobble?"

Which, if I do say so myself, is strong on about ten levels, not the least of which are the punchy, headline-type prose style; the felicitous employment of the semicolon and the amusing bubble/bobble pun.

Now the question of the day:

How do we sell this damned thing?

Obviously a telephone call is in order, followed up by some emailing and related wheeling and dealing. That said, is the first call placed to Tyree's agent? This has a couple of attractive strategic elements. First, either the agent pitches the painting to Mr. Tyree--which is fine--or, and this might even be better, he buys it and gives it to Tyree as a gift. Or--hang with me now--he hangs it on the wall of his office, spends X amount of time staring at it, then calls me up one day and says something along the lines of:

"Hey, Geoff. Maria Sharapova is one of my clients and I was wondering if you could cook up something where she's not dressed like the Virgin Mary. Something sexier, maybe?"

The mind reels.

Alternatively, however, one could contact the Giants themselves. Because in the end, when all is said and done, all I really want to do is paint big freaking paintings of Wellington Mara, Bob Tisch and Leon Hess, on commission, to be hung in the new Giants/Jets stadium. The extended fantasy is that Tiki Barber is the commissioner, if you will. And that he and I later, over beers, discuss my greatest athletic moment at the University of Virginia.

And the final alternative is to scrawl the words 'Tyree debunks housing crisis; asks "What bobble?"' across the top of the damned thing and take it down to Wall Street, employing the usual marketing strategies.

Voting is now open. Take your time as there are at least several days until the painting is finished.