Painting by Proxy

My boyfriend Marco draws. His quick pen & ink sketches of fantasy figures—mermaids, vampires, dragons, fairies—reveal a “natural, unstudied talent.” Whatever….For him it´s just fun, the joy of seeing the image in his imagination take shape on the page. Personally, I don´t care about any of that. I intend to exploit his abilities for my own emotional, if not financial, gain. Perhaps you´re familiar with a little phenomenon I like to call prestige by proximity. Pushy parents of childhood prodigies everywhere know what I´m talking about: if you don´t have talent yourself just align yourself with someone who does. Can you feel the love? Don´t judge me. Some people are destined to be president (good for them!), but somebody´s got to be first lady. With all the adulation and none of the work, it´s not really a bad gig.

So anyway, I´ve decided. Marco´s going to be a successful artist. Someday you´ll admire his work on a gallery wall, and when you do I hope you´ll look past the signature, and remember that that kind of talent never exists in a vacuum. Who discovered his gift? Who bought him his first quality pens and paper? Who got his early work framed? Who fucking created him?

ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME,ME……