January 9th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
I went with The Nymph and my good friend Dr. Faustus to the Tulsa Art Deco Museum not long ago, and afterwards we stopped into Decopolis Books across the street. (I commend both of these destinations to anyone who finds themselves on Boston Avenue in Tulsa, Oklahoma.) While in Decopolis Books, I was confronted by the following epic-scale figure I am calling the Tulsa Sky Pilot:
I would go, I think, pretty much anywhere she wished to steer our dirigible.
The art is by trompe l’oeil muralist William The Artist and may be purchased, per the accompanying placard, right off the wall if you have $6,800 and a large enough truck. Or, for a sum unspecified, the placard indicates William The Artist will come around to your place and paint it directly on your own wall.
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January 8th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
I have only one piece of advice for this bare-chested novel-cover heroine: run!
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January 7th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
It’s really quite rare to see vintage erotic art that centers female pleasure to this extent. I mean, our dude is obviously not reluctant or anything; he’s buried his face in her pussy with vigor and intent. But she’s clearly enjoying herself, urging him onward with a firm hand:
Once again this is artwork from an unidentified artist, thought to be “‘Wighead’“, illustrating Ode a Venus aka Ode au Vagin by Clovis Hugues.
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January 6th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
Given the limits of the cartoonist’s art and my own sporting knowledge, I’m not sure whether the bros here are supposed to be tossing up a rugby ball or an American football. Either way, I’m fairly sure it’s not a minimum-contact game they have in mind, as the ladies being invited seem pretty clear about also:
This is from the cover of an Italian-language publication called Humor-Sexy. These days, I think we’d put a cartoon like this on the cover of something just called Skeevy…
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January 5th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here, but it would seem to involve the symbolic insertion of a stalk of wheat into somebody’s urethra. You might think “fertility ritual” until you pause to reflect that this is a belt buckle, which some dude was accordingly wearing really close to his junk; at which point all you can think is that it’s more in the nature of an advertisement and an invitation:
Image is from an Ebay auction where you can see that the buckle was cast by Indiana Metal Craft in 1976. The mark “Beardsley” on the back of the buckle is a clue to why the image may seem familiar; in fact it’s a folk-art adaptation of Aubrey Beardsley’s “Lysistrata Shielding Her Coynte”, though I quite honestly prefer the belt buckle version of his Lysistrata, who looks warmer and more fun:
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January 4th, 2018 -- by Bacchus
The London Underground in 1968 had a pretty good passenger-entertainment program, apparently. Either that, or the buskers were better than anything I’ve ever seen:
I don’t have an original source for the photo; it appeared all over the web in September of 2013 with virtually the same caption, citing the year as 1968 and identifying the subway system as the London Underground. The original source seems to be lost and all existing citations (like this one) are incomplete or uncertain.
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January 3rd, 2018 -- by Bacchus
At first glance I thought this detail from an illustration was set in a private train compartment, but the exterior doors and rear window convinced me it was an extremely fancy early automobile, the kind where the phrase “custom coachwork” is meant quite literally:
Artist is Berthommé-Saint-André, from a French-language edition of the anonymous classic My Secret Life.
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