Source – Two-year-old Lola June may still be in diapers, but the tot is already taking the New York art world by storm, as she has created paintings that have sold to wealthy collectors for hundreds of dollars each. …
More than 12 of Lola’s acrylic paintings priced between $300 and $1,600 have been snapped up, according to the exhibition’s curator.
“It’s an honor to be her parent,” said Lola’s mother, Lucille Javier, a hair colorist who is originally from California. “She teaches me to be a better human.” …
Celebrity dermatologist Dr. David Colbert recently purchased two after spotting them in the Chashama gallery window.
“I was walking down the street and I looked in the window and thought ‘These pieces are really great’, ” … before purchasing two pieces for $600 and $250.
“I thought her work was from the heart. I watched her smile when she was painting. I thought ‘This has got a little dash of Jackson Pollock and a dash of Cy Twombly’, ” Colbert said.
And – About a third of her artwork has been sold, and the inquiries keep coming in. Prices range from $400 to as much as $23,000.
In my life I’ve never rooted so much for someone I’ll never meet to make a fortune. Do it, Lola June. Take these pretentious frauds for every nickel their little trust-funded asses have. I’m pulling for you.
If any story ever proved what utter horseshit modern art is, this is that story. It’s a world of phony, smug, affected, ostentatious, self-satisfied vanity projects in love with the smell of their own gas. So much so that they’d rather pay $23,000 for the scribblings of a little girl than admit they’ve been had.
If Lola June was painting actual things, flowers, people, animals, ships, landscapes like the late, beloved Bob Ross [pours one out], she’d be worth every dollar she’s getting. But that’s exactly the kind of paintings true art snobs hate. And supercilious twits like Celebrity Dermatologist Dr. David Colbert don’t have the self-effacing humility to admit he can’t tell the difference between actual modern art and a child’s fingerpaintings. I’m no fan of Jackson Pollock or Cy Twombly either. But that sound you hear is them clawing at the top of their caskets (I assume they’re dead) because their life’s work is being compared to the doodles of an artist whose chief accomplishment this year will be going potty all by herself like a big girl. But it’s easier for these art snobs to pretend the paintings are teaching them how to be better humans than expose themselves – and modern art – as frauds.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go up into the attic to look for that box of drawings the Irish Rose saved. When our kids made them I remember thinking I wouldn’t put them on the back of the refrigerator. Now I realize we’re sitting on a gold mine. NY art world, prepare to be taken by storm.