El Papa Gritando

El Papa Gritando = The Screaming Pope

All by way of saying, with my Palin being such a complete disaster of a painting, one that gnaws at the bones of my mind, one that puts the lie to my manhood the way only a failed painting can, I've turned to Henry Paulson.

The reference here is, of course, that whole Velazquez/Bacon/Raymond continuum that the art historians conjure up on such a regular and tiresome basis.

What is worth noting is this:  I typically go out of my way to choose a resource photo that is, more or less, neutral in tone.  However, in the case of The Screaming Pope [more properly called either "The Annotated Treasury" or "The Annotated Paulson"], I've chosen a somewhat more animated shot.  

Good clean fun should be had by all come annotation time.   Were I a passerby annotating my painting I might consider one of those cartoon voice balloons coming out of his mouth saying either:

--Remain calm.  We are bailing you out!

or 

--Abandon ship.  The bailout isn't working!

Only time will tell.

This, by the way, is the painting that got the whole thing started.  

And it's good, I suppose, to be connected that far back.  Like those Vikings in "The 13th Warrior" as they prepare for battle and likely death, seeing Valhalla before them in the mist, beckoning.  

Did you see that movie?  A smasher, if you like that sort of thing.  Even Antonio Banderas, a cheese-ball of massive proportion, couldn't screw it up.  "Lo," they chant, staring at the oncoming horde. "Lo there do I see my father..."

I wonder if the Japanese soldiers on Guadalcanal were thinking something similar when they saw the Marines hit the beach.

The whole thing goes like this:

Lo there do I see my father

Lo there do I see my mother

Lo there do I see my brothers and sisters.

Lo there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning.

Lo they do call to me;

they bid me take my place among them in the Halls of Valhalla

where the brave may live forever.