Remember how I said I was paying a ridiculous amount of money (minus 50% off) to get the Booger Silkscreen restored and matted and framed under archival museum glass? And I went to the West County high-end framing store last Sunday?
Next day, that would be Monday, I get an email from high-end store. Grim news, the store was closing Friday! For forever, after fifteen years. Complete surprise to all the workers. So, I had to rescue the Booger Print before they closed Friday night. They had gotten the restoration part done:
(It might not seem like they did any restoration, but that's the look I wanted.)
So, they had the frame sides, but not the two mats or the glass. I have little faith I'll see the refund for that, but there was a Going Out of Business Sale. I found a lovely Mucha print in simply the most gorgeous mat and frame ever. The mat had gilded braided edges. Plus, I love Alphonse Mucha, commercial hack though he sometimes was. I have five Mucha posters dating back from college. I know this is heresy, but this new one matched my living room.
"Name your price!" the saleslady from Sunday said.
"Sounds good," she said, possibly influenced because I'd brought her a Barack HOPE print. (She did just lose her job.) Then I went back to class and smacked myself all afternoon for not starting lower. I went back right before it closed and cleaned out the place. I just tallied up the original prices , then divided it into what I paid, and I guessed right: it was a 90% off deal. If you base it on the half-price sale that is always on at the high-end store, it's only 80% off.
Feel free to embiggen. A few things are gifts, a few prints really appealed to me (the Wall Street one in the front is headed for my TeddyJ cube), but mostly I'm going to re-frame my smaller existing stuff. Existing art shown below.
As you see, I stripped the walls of everything I ever bought or did or inherited. (There's your three people on the front row, Judith; they are not going to be confined to a frame, but I wanted all the walls to be a blank slate.)
Now, three of mine are old-school daisy paintings from my Great-Aunt Rosemary, and when I questioned if they should go up somewhere, Gary shrieked, "You have to! It's your Great-Aunt Rosemary! Your mother would roll over in her grave! If she had a grave. As it is, there are little puffs of ash coming out of her box!"
By the way, let me tell you, I was high after the big 90 percent off sale. I was elated. Today, I feel like a robber baron profiting off the poor economy.