The smell of arugula, balsamic and Virginia Slims choked the room. Our inside source, a “fly on the wall” was at a clandestine meeting of the infamous Gang of Five New York Times art critics, having yet another emergency session to discuss what to do about the Fischl dilemma. “On one hand, we can’t mess with the system, his galleries are upping the pressure, advertising is screaming at us. But his paintings? I think we all saw that Steve Martin pic against a Bob Ross landscape.” This was greeted by groans. “We’ll lose even more face if we don’t say something now about his paintings going on that bus tour. What next, a Fishcl store in the damn mall?”" Silence broken only by the muted radio as an endless NPR fundraiser droned on. “God sakes, didn’t they get enough dough from Roy Kroc’s widow?”
Unfortunately at this point our inside man was called for a delivery and had to scat. If he can retrieve the tapes next week he will.
This came in as a comment on the last blog:
After watching the video of Eric Fischl talking about his Saint Barts painting of his friends,
I don’t think Fischl is the new Leroy Neiman. I think he’s the new Bob Ross — painting “Happy Trees.” I love the mind-on-idle feeling of a Bob Ross video. Listening to the lazy carefree anesthetized Fischl discuss painting makes everything so happy and wonderful and beautiful that I’m not sure if I’m going to kill him or myself.