How I Painted (not really) The Famous Author Ephraim Kishon

Years ago, as I was about to board the plane to New York, my dad, God rest his soul, gave me the book "Picasso's Sweet Revenge" by Ephraim Kishon. He said: "This is for you, so you have something to read on the plane".

On the plane I ate, I slept and got more and more excited as we approached New York, but didn't get to read the book. 

Like most of the things that were unpacked from mysuitcase, the book too, ended up in the large pile of stuff near the radiator in my dusty loft in Brooklyn. 

A few months passed and one sleepy Sunday, I found myself with nothing to do, so I started cleaning the studio. 

Just as I began to clean, I found the book and suddenly had a perfect excuse to stop cleaning. I sat near an eastern window, on a sofa I had found one Wednesday night in the street (Wednesday was the one day in the week that the street residents could take out large items for garbage collection), and started reading. 

I was immediately swept away by Kishon's fluent language and the way information and humor were intertwined in his prose. I won't bore you with all the distractions I had in the course of reading the book, but on the whole, it didn't take me long to finish it.

I loved it and, as was the custom back then, I looked at the cover for the publisher's address and wrote them a long e-mail, thanking Ephraim Kishon for his contribution to my artistic education. 

A short time later, I received a letter from the famous author himself, thanking me too. 

As our relationship was developing, as a gesture of my appreciation for the book, I offered to paint his portrait. Mr. Kishon answered: "As for myself, I don't really want to have my portrait painted, but I am sure that my wife would love it". 

I jumped at the opportunity and suggested that, during my next summer vacation in Israel, I would come to their home to take photos for the portrait. And so it happened that on a steamy summer day, I arrived at Kishon's home in Tel Aviv. 

I was invited in and up to his study on the second floor, where he showed me all of his books, translated into 69 languages!

He was a bit busy or preoccupied, so he suggested that Lisa, his wife, and I take our time and take the necessary photos. So we went downstairs, walkedaround the house - kitchen, living room, garden, trees and flowers -  and produced a large collection of photos. We finally chose one with a flower. 

I thanked both of them for the hospitality and went back to the studio to start painting. A few months later, we met again so I could present them with the painting. I entered the living room and with trembling hands, removed the paper wrap off the painting. Ephraim and Lisa were happy and surprised at the result.

We drank lemonade, chatted a little and Ephraim suggested that he would make a print out of the painting so they would have one copy in the house in Switzerland and one in Tel Aviv. I thought it was a nice idea. 

I was about to leave and Lisa suggested seeing me out. With one foot of mine in the street and Lisa's hand still on the gate pole, she said in her fine Austrian accent: "You know, Amir, when Ephraim said his wife would love to have a portrait, he meant that his wife would love to have his portrait".

And that is how I painted (not really) Ephraim Kishon's portrait

And This is How you Sell Paintings

Wednesday morning, 8:15AM, I'm in my car, heading east to see my dentist. My Bluetooth and radio are fighting which one is going to play. I press "radio" once, once more and then again and again. The phone Bluetooth fights back. 

Finally, blinded by the morning sun, I arrive at the dentist's clinic without even hearing one song from start to end. My dentist is happy. "keep on like this, everything will be OK". 

On the table outside my gallery, I left a painting with a new wet signature, so it will dry up by the time the buyer comes to pick it up.

7:45 AM. The dog has already sniffed every corner of the porch, before I manage to make my way up the stairs. Before I even open the computer, turn on the lights and the kettle, there enterns a woman. Her eyes still getting used to the morning light, but she happily announces: "I came to see paintings".

I turn on the light, point at the walls of the gallery and continue my morning routine: trash bins, lights, kettle and moving  easels around . "I love portraits", she says. I tell her that there are some on the walls and some in the smaller room of the gallery. 

She starts taking paintings off the walls and looking at them closely. "How much is this one?", she asks. I tell her that I offered it for $500 to the grandmother of the child in the painting. 

"I love it a lot, but it's too expensive for me", she replies. 

"I have something from a demonstration I did a few years ago", I try. "Yes. take it off, I want to see it too. And this one, when is this from?".

"This is from my studying years in New York", I say. 

"And this one?", she asks.

"This one too". 

"I think I'll go to the mini market next door and think about it some more". She takes a small step back and then returns. 

"You know, I realy loved the first one I saw", she says. "How much would it be for an early bird like me?", she asks.

"I'm not a dealer, you know. I give the same price at any time of the day".  

"But you'll allow a few payments, right?". We agreed on three.

At mid-day she returned to pick up the signed painting. The signature is still a bit wet so I cannot wrap it up in a fancy paper and box. She says she might come back the morning after because she might feel like more paintings. 

She might... 

And this is how you sell paintings. 

Portrait painting demonstrations, oil on canvas