W van Bush, as you probably know, was a Dutch Post-It Note artist. He dreamed of being
- a tender bartender,
- a happiness-bringing altered boy, or
- female mine worker pleasuring miners with sex-play in the darkness down below the surface of the earth (and below the navel.)
His paintings and drawings are real cheap now – less than the price of sheets of toilet paper, but definitely overpriced, even if you just pick one up in an upscale garbage dump. All his life, in spite of his failure as a painter, he figured if he didn’t make it as a girl mine worker, he’d happily settle for being a boneless gymnast – but he found it really tricky remove out his bones by all by himself while maintaining what you might call “proud posture.”
Van Bush spent his early life in a firm of artless dealers and after a brief spell as a dud, became an evangelist worker in a very lousy-mined region specializing, obviously in the missionary position.
He considered this last job below his dignity (although he was never the one on the bottom) and longed poignantly to be a gay vagrant and wear purple socks on his “pubic tube,” as he called it. He did not embark upon a career as a post-box artist until 1830 which, in
Initially, he only worked with somber colors inspired by chimney sweepers – and the eye-catching colors were a blend of rich blacks, charcoals, soot, ebony, dirtish, muck, crud, filthesqueness, dinge and ultra-dark shit.
Then, while in a dream of being a midget baling hay to use in his hobby of arson, he began to drink. Drink what? Gasoline!
The gasoline did a lot of good for his health, though he did, as it turned out, die with a severely charred inner ear, Zippo lighter and, in his vichyssoise, a 5-foot long right nostril hair .
In his lifetime, he produced more than 2,000 paintings of the post-box in his bathroom -- all done during a fantastic bout of diarrhea in the last ten minutes of his life. Most of his best-known works were painted after his death, his so-called “post-mortem period – symbolized by what you see here: .