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The 48-sheet poster.

It was my first visit to Paris.

Descending into the Metro, I came face to face with a ten foot tall young woman, bronzed and oiled, and wearing a tiny red bikini. It was one girl, in seven different poses arranged over an enormous 48-sheet poster.

The first thing I realised (missing my train, I am sure) was that , each as sultry as the other. It was not only that she was charming; she was; but she looked familiar...

Esti and I went out for a while before she became a top Parisian model. The next day I went back to the station, writing down the name of the company that printed the poster, and called at their offices.

"Um," I said in my best French, "I 'ave seen a poster produced by your company, and I wonder if I could 'ave a copy of it?"

I don't know if zis is possible, said the young lady at the desk, We do so may posters... Maybe you could describe it to me? and suddenly what had seemed so simple, turned into the single most embarassing conversation in my life.

"Well," I began, It is a picture of a young woman..."

Yes...?

"She is wearing a red bikini..."

Oh...?

"...very nice tan... it is an advertisment for a suntan lotion..."

And she is wearing a bikini, yes. Red?

"Yes, bright red, and very small..." and I realised that I was equally as red as the bikini was... "I know ze model..."

Ah, you know ze model?

"Qui," I said, " I mean yes... She is a friend of mine, and, um..." ignoring the sweat that was running down my temples and into my collar.

And why do you want zis poster...?

"Eh, bah..."

What do you want to do with it?

"Ah... well, I thought I could put it up in my room?..."

In your... room?

Yes," and as if it should explain everything, "...I am an artist."

Well I am afraid we cannot give pictures to anybody like zis, who knows what you want to do with it?

"Maybe you can ask ze model if it is ok," in desperation.

Do you have 'er phone number?

"No.."

'er address?

"No..."

But you say you know 'er...!

"What if I leave my name and then I can come back next week if it is OK?"

Very well, she said, but I don't think we can help you. Nor do I, I thought, I am beyond help here. Good Lord!

But I did go back a week later, and the poster was waiting for me at the reception desk. I had the distinct feeling that I had provided entertainment for the entire city of Paris for seven days, but I walked of with great dignity and a bulky parcel of folded paper under my arm.

Epilogue.

My plan was to use the poster as a massive backdrop for the kind of figure painting I knew I was destined to do, but soon after I got back home it was lost in a move. I still think it was a great idea...

Coca Cola, Venice, and mountain springs.

There is no more generous city than Venice. No more beautiful, no more pure. In terms of water, springs of the purest mountain water are running permanently in all parts of the city. All you have to do is to cup your hands and to drink the ice cold purity directly from the earth.

It is the perfection of Eden. But there is a snake in the story. Somebody who resents the gifts of nature, who feels affronted by this free gift from above.

Coca Cola, the most bloated company in the world, has made the city council of Venice an offer they cannot refuse, $2,700,000 for the right to put 80 vending machines on every Vaporetto stop in the city, and in some of the most precious and beautiful places on earth. Sponsors are not giving away anything, they are buying to the value of their money. What they are willing to pay is an indication of the preciousness of what they buy. Purity, culture, health, integrity, all these have their price.

Except for the ones who say no. Professor Carel Weight. Allan Border.

Venice has had her pants around her ankles for some time, selling advertising space on the Doge's Palace and on the Bridge of Sighs, on the Rialto Bridge and on the Accademia, seduced by easy money. What she has is purity and beauty, worth millions to the ugly and the impure.

This is why I have started Uprising, to say no to ugliness and yes to beauty.

Artists to look at.

Some of the greatest artists of all time have been denigrated during the last century, and are only now getting recognition.

Frederick Lord Leighton was the most respected artist of his time. His funeral in 1896 attracted more mourners that of Queen Victoria. In 1960 one of his paintings, "Flaming June", having been discovered boarded up behind a clapboard wall by builders, failed to sell for $180. His paintings and those of Alma Tadema were sold as junk to 60's art students to paint over with their modern acrylic paints. Its owner, who bought it at this time and died recently aged 99, turned down an offer of £6,000,000 from Andrew Lloyd Webber. To this day the people of Puerto Rico jealously guard their famous painting. It belongs to Puerto Rico, they say, because nobody else appreciated it.

Website

http://artistvision.org/

Workshops

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