Burning my bridges at Blackstone

I hope I'm not burning my bridges at Blackstone.

As if you even had a bridge at Blackstone to burn.
Yeah. The statement embraces what you might call an anticipatory dynamic.
It sure does.

Tomorrow, my friend Josh Kosman is having a party for the publication of the paperback version of his recent book. Titled "The Buyout of America", it's an indictment of private equity's throttling, in the name of the American Dream, of the American Dream. Whatever that even is anymore.

Go here to buy the Kindle version.

So he sends me an invitation to the event. Upon which I reflect. Then I notice at the bottom a post script that reads: "Geoffrey, if you happen to have a painting for people to sign it would add to the buzz."

So I decide to paint Stephan Schwarzman. Fast.

This is a smaller than usual painting, so I'm trying to maximize the white area for pithy comments by the media-heavy attendees. My solution is to crop a good third of the man's head, so as to make him appear to be peeking around a corner.

This is the resource photo, suitably cropped:



Terrible tie, by the way, even if it looks like it came from Hermes.

The title will possibly run something like: "Stephen Schwarzman smiles nervously, wondering if it's ok to join Josh's book-signing party." Something like that. Disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer. Perhaps something less stupid. Disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer.

For a man throttling the American Dream in the name of the American Dream, he has a pretty friendly face. We are under the gun, time-wise, and we'll see if we can capture enough of it to count.

Alternative title: Throttling the American Dream in the name of the American Dream. Which is better, perhaps. Disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer.

I hope I'm not burning my bridges at Blackstone.