Artwork Details
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Description9x12. There is a long story about this piece. Long story short it was a gag gift on a running joke with a group of friends. Yes, she is covered in glue. I am not the "covered in glue guy" you may have heard about.Social/Sharing |
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Comments on this Artwork
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Michael Benham 
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
James S wrote:
The absolute best piece of art on CAF!
of course!
Duke Fleed aka #1 Groo Fan
Member Since 2013
1 - Posted on 4/19/2021
James S wrote:
The absolute best piece of art on CAF!
are you crazy?!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
Eranga Devasurendra wrote:
Ah...so YOU'RE the legend!
lmao
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
Daryl R wrote:
No words can do it justice
Speechless and Awestruck
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
Ryan “Jabo” Jablonski wrote:
This is a thing of beauty
A masterpiece!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
Evan B wrote:
This certainly is... something
A modern day Mona Lisa
Not a Skrull
Member Since 2016
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
Absolutely breathtaking! I have never known perfection until I saw this.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/18/2021
Not a Skrull wrote:
Absolutely breathtaking! I have never known perfection until I saw this.
LMAO, Thanks! Such a Beauty!
Brian Lake
Member Since 2015
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
I think this may end up a published cover at some point
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Brian Lake wrote:
I think this may end up a published cover at some point
She is due for her stand alone series I would think.
Daryl R
Member Since 2015
2 - Posted on 4/18/2021
Whoever your friends are... I don't want them. Unfortunately, I think I have a few of them too
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Daryl R wrote:
Whoever your friends are... I don't want them. Unfortunately, I think I have a few of them too
HAHAHAHA
Jason D'Ambrosio
Member Since 2018
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
I bet she doesn't know where the stairs in her buiding are.. #elevatorsonly
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Jason D'Ambrosio wrote:
I bet she doesn't know where the stairs in her buiding are.. #elevatorsonly
Its all muscle memory at this point.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Joshua Tan wrote:
Pink Pearl eh.....
Who else would it be?
Craig Yeung
Member Since 2009
3 - Posted on 4/18/2021
Congrats Mike, the stars aligned to make this artist, character and subject matter come together into one priceless piece.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Craig Yeung wrote:
Congrats Mike, the stars aligned to make this artist, character and subject matter come together into one priceless piece.
Absolutely incredible!
K Gearon
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/21/2021
Craig Yeung wrote:
Congrats Mike, the stars aligned to make this artist, character and subject matter come together into one priceless piece.
AND the glue! Those other things may have made it come together but the glue is holding it together for sure.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Paul P Spiderversity wrote:
Definitely the "pearl" of CAF!
For sure!
Dan Atlas
Member Since 2021
2 - Posted on 4/18/2021
I feel like I've seen this drawing somewhere else 🧐
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Dan Atlas wrote:
I feel like I've seen this drawing somewhere else 🧐
Not like this! lol. This is the new variant!
Jeremy Mehring
Member Since 2014
2 - Posted on 4/18/2021
Did you ask for the glue to be "mixed media"?
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Jeremy Mehring wrote:
Did you ask for the glue to be "mixed media"?
LOL!
Galac Tun
Member Since 2006
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
I wish she was standing on Northstar in this. I would love to own the cover to Alpha Flight 22.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Galac Tun wrote:
I wish she was standing on Northstar in this. I would love to own the cover to Alpha Flight 22.
I actually did reach out but as soon as you see "cool lines" you know its overpriced by a car or kidney. I did ask though, lol
Peter Sullivan
Member Since 2006
1 - Posted on 4/23/2021
Michael Benham wrote:
I actually did reach out but as soon as you see "cool lines" you know its overpriced by a car or kidney. I did ask though, lol
Thats a bit cruel. They only ask multiples of market value. They do give you a price. I am still recovering from a list of prices I was once sent.. It might very well be correct, fifty years from now.
Eric Laredo
Member Since 2019
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
You need to look at it everyday. Needs to hang in your living room for all to appreciate
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Eric Laredo wrote:
You need to look at it everyday. Needs to hang in your living room for all to appreciate
My wife does not appreciate it as much as I would have hoped.
Eric Laredo
Member Since 2019
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
See if this guy is selling, perfect piece to go with it.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Eric Laredo wrote:
See if this guy is selling, perfect piece to go with it.
LMAO!
M L
Member Since 2015
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals a
M L
Member Since 2015
Posted on 4/18/2021
nd manuscripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
M L
Member Since 2015
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
M L wrote:
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
Deeeeeeep! Finally someone who understands the true meaning of this piece! lol
JN 80
Member Since 2016
Posted on 4/18/2021
Phenomenal...I remember Thumbelina fondly. One of the underrated rated members of the mutant liberation front. Been looking long for a splash page with her.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
JN 80 wrote:
Phenomenal...I remember Thumbelina fondly. One of the underrated rated members of the mutant liberation front. Been looking long for a splash page with her.
You can't beat the cover of her first appearance though, lol
Josh G
Member Since 2016
1 - Posted on 4/18/2021
Solid original by Joe! Glad to see him rebounding from that scathing article.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Josh G wrote:
Solid original by Joe! Glad to see him rebounding from that scathing article.
Originalish......
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
1 - Posted on 4/19/2021
Wonder FingWoman wrote:
Move over Michelangelo!
That comment is .........flat. lol
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
JP Crusher wrote:
Now that’s what I call a sticky situation!
LMAO, Classic!
Dark Phoenix
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
My heart is broken that this could not be part of my collection...bravo, my friend! :)
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Dark Phoenix wrote:
My heart is broken that this could not be part of my collection...bravo, my friend! :)
I know right?! Grail over here!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
AMR 1 wrote:
No doubt this is a gem, congrats
Thanks!
Duke Fleed aka #1 Groo Fan
Member Since 2013
Posted on 4/19/2021
It's not as good as a blob drawing, but its 2nd best!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Duke Fleed aka #1 Groo Fan wrote:
It's not as good as a blob drawing, but its 2nd best!
LMAO You can't ever top this Mona Lisa.
Duke Fleed aka #1 Groo Fan
Member Since 2013
Posted on 4/19/2021
Michael Benham wrote:
LMAO You can't ever top this Mona Lisa.
Who is this Mona Lisa you speak of sir?!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/19/2021
Duke Fleed aka #1 Groo Fan wrote:
Who is this Mona Lisa you speak of sir?!
This piece is the "Mona Lisa" of the comic art world. In a few years this will be passed around at top galleries around the world! hahahaha
K Gearon
Member Since 2011
Posted on 4/21/2021
I mean..SO unique! Glue covered. OK. I'll bite. "Go, Joe!"
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
1 - Posted on 4/21/2021
K Gearon wrote:
I mean..SO unique! Glue covered. OK. I'll bite. "Go, Joe!"
A masterpiece for sure!
Marcus Wai
Member Since 2005
1 - Posted on 4/30/2021
This is why we strive to get back to normal and attend conventions.
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
1 - Posted on 4/30/2021
Marcus Wai wrote:
This is why we strive to get back to normal and attend conventions.
LMAO, Very true!
Dave W
Member Since 2006
1 - Posted on 5/7/2021
I can't turn my eyes away from this magnificent piece ... it's like they are glued to it!
Michael Benham
Member Since 2011
1 - Posted on 5/7/2021
Dave W wrote:
I can't turn my eyes away from this magnificent piece ... it's like they are glued to it!
Hahahaha! Definitely!
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