hobby acuity, but it seemed somewhat apt for today's post.
I now have a virile young artist with his shirt open to his navel (think Fabio on the cover of any number of bodice buster novels twenty years or so ago), who holds his painter's palette in his left hand and a brush in his right, with which he is checking his perspective on an unfolding battle (or frolicking aristocrats) in the distance. He will be observed in his work by his patron, a local country gentleman and neighbor to Aunt Hiltrud, the most formidable of the Grand Duke's three aunts. The as yet unnamed gentleman's valet stands at the ready to assist when the great artiste calls, "Oil! I need more linseed oil. . . And a palette knife. From that trunk on the bench over there!"
The miniature easel with canvas -- made from toothpicks and heavy white card held together with the super glue -- is setting right now. If I feel well enough this evening, I might return and finish gluing the rest of that tedious contraption together before calling it a day. Stayed tuned for a few photos once everything is ready for base-coating. Until then, I remain your faithful servant. . .
-- Mondo Dismo