“portrait of a banker”
Auction Closes may 29, 2019 - 8 PM Mountain Time!
Bid in increments of $50 or higher. Please note there is a moderate reserve.
You may place an automatic bid. An automatic bid is when you state the maximum amount you're willing to bid for the item. We will place bids on your behalf using the stated bid increment amount of $50, which is based on the current high bid. We'll bid only as much as necessary to make sure that you remain the high bidder, up to your maximum amount. If another bidder places the same maximum bid or higher, we'll notify you so you can place another bid. Your maximum bid is kept confidential until it is exceeded by another bidder.
The winning bidder will receive an invoice by email at the closing of the auction. Thank you and good luck!
Winner must complete payment within one hour after auction closes or the next highest bidder will be considered the winner.
Be The First to Bid $650
Be the first to bid $650 and receive "Contemplating the Essence of Gravity" (a $250 value) even if you don't win! The print is signed, numbered, and comes with a certificate of authenticity.
Be The First to Bid $750
Be the first to bid $750 and receive the limited edition prints, "Contemplating the Essence of Gravity" AND "St. Runaway." (a $500 value) even if you don't win the auction. The prints are signed, numbered, and comes with a certificate of authenticity.
The Winning Bidder Who Bids $850 or Over
The winning bidder who bids $850 or over will receive in addition to "Portrait of a Banker", the limited edition prints, "Contemplating the Gravity of Things", "St. Runaway", and the new release, "Portrait of an Executive in Love". The prints are signed, numbered, and come with a certificate of authenticity.
CURRENT BID - Last Update 8:00 PM / 5.29.19
$100 by RE
$150 by FJ
$200 by PT
$250 by RE
$300 by KG
$350 by HF
$400 by RE
$450 by GH
$500 by FJ
$550 by TH
Auction Closed - Reserve Not Met
Market Value $2,150 - Thank You for Bidding!
BIDDING ENDS Wednesday May 29, 2019 - 8 PM Mountain Time
NOTICE! BIDDING AFTER THE TIMESTAMP OF 8 PM, May 29, 2019 WILL NOT BE VALID
Portrait of a Banker
The kitchen light beamed it’s rays down the hall and collided into my face at five o’clock every morning. I always left the door to my bedroom open, my bed positioned so the light would wake me when my dad percolated his Folgers coffee. I would walk down the hall in my pajamas, and silently sit next to him. In front of me would be a cup of black coffee and plain toast. I would catch a glimpse of him when he turned the pages of the Avalanche Journal, the local newspaper. There was a cloud above us created by a smoldering non-filtered Camel crushed between his calloused knuckles. After he finished the cartoon page without so much as a grin, he would fold it just so and hand it to me. Not a word was spoken. This is my first memory of my dad. I was three, maybe four years old. I didn’t like my father all that much, but I admired him.
My father was a banker. He wore a crisp white button down shirt with a red tie. He had a way with money, making money and having money. He was an entrepreneur with numerous side hustles, businesses, and projects. When he was home from work, he was still working on something. I was expected to be doing something productive as well even though I was a child. He wasn’t always home. He traveled a lot for work and I liked it when he was gone. I could relax and my mom and I would do fun things together.
Today I am healing from a broken rib which is indirectly his fault even though he passed suddenly on July 30, 1996. It was a Tuesday. I was repairing the plumbing on my house when my rib gave way from working in tight quarters and trying to get better leverage to loosen a connection. He taught me plumbing, how to rebuild an engine, how to build a house, just about any task one does with their hands. Thanks to my father, I can MacGyver my way through most engineering predicaments.
A few years before my father passed we made peace with one another. I began to see the man my mother married. He began to see me. He rarely agreed with my life choices and I didn’t like his way of doing things. Against all odds we found a bridge in the labyrinth that was our relationship and met each other at its highest point. In the end he gave me what I craved all my life, his acknowledgment and respect. I did not know until that moment, he had needed that from me too. My last words to him were, “You’re sure causing a lot of trouble.” He laughed. Less than an hour later, he was gone. I slid his wedding ring over his knuckles and offered it to my mother. She replied, “You should have it.”