Just between the two of us...

Just between the two of us--you, the collective singular, and me, the artist formerly known as the portraitist to the financial elite and now known as that numbnuts that can't paint Erin Burnett--I have to tell you there are limits to the amount of abuse a painting can heap on a painter. I mean, isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Anyway, here is where we are:



I mean, really. It's getting embarrassing. It's so embarrassing that it's probably making you uncomfortable. Which, let me tell you, makes two.

I will say this: the painting invariably looks better, more Erin-like, in person. Fact is, they all look weird when photographed. But this one takes the weirdness one step further down the line.

[REDACTED--if that's the right word]