Meat Elves

When I’m not modifying paintings, I’m restoring vintage meat slicers from the 1940s. The one in the painting sits on my kitchen counter.

A recent conversation with my wife, Christine, perhaps best explains it. I have transcribed it as faithfully as I can remember.

Christine: “Your painting doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t the animals frantically running away from the huge meat slicer?”

Me: “Because it poses no threat to them.”

Christine: “But won’t the farmers just slice up the livestock?”

Me. “No. Think of the giant slicer as a meat mill. And think of the people as meat elves.”Christine. “Go on. It’s so sexy when you speak of slicers.”

Me: “So the meat elves don’t slice their own livestock. Or if they do, they would use tiny little slicers at the proper scale. But they need the horses and cows for their work.”

Christine: “This is starting to make sense. Tell me more.”

Me: “As I was saying, this is a meat mill. Look how the tiny little workers use a rope and pulley to load the salami. Isn’t that adorable? They’re like the Keebler Elves of carnivores.”

Christine: “Not as adorable as you.”Me: “They’re basically miners living near a mystical mountain range of deli meats. Wouldn’t you love to visit there?”

Christine: “I’d visit anywhere with you, my slice master.”









I take bad and discarded art, generally from thrift stores, and ‘improve’ on them. For a complete collection of my art, a term I use very loosely, go to

Project 99

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