Drella

Shirty has been playing the resurrection card again. After the rousing success of the Elvis head a little while back, it decided it was time to put on a heavy metal album, paint it's fingernails black and try it's hand at necromancing again, this time conjuring up another dead American icon for the shirt.

This time, we have an artist who made a name for himself - in part - by painting every day things, and then acting snotty so that these paintings would go up in value. Oh, The Art World; why must you be so fickle? Anyway, I never met the man, mainly because 1) I was 11 when he died, and 2) I had no reason to be in the New York Pop Art scene at that time (that was my Italian Baroque sculpting phase), so that assessment can't be vouched for personally. But suffice to say, all great artists are moody. So, if you're an artist and are generally well-tempered and good-natured, you probably suck. Sorry. I didn't make the rules...