Elizabeth I

I was finishing this off at some café in Northbridge (Perth’s place of enduring lame capitalist night club lunacy.) Nightclubs seem like such a BRILLIANT idea – continuous party yeah baby! Non-stop all set up for it with spinning things and shiny lights and big speakers and alcohol on hand EVERYBODY PARTY ALL THE TIME.
But it is nothing like that of course. Sleazy and ugly and filled with the most absolute kinds of falsity that exist.. Anyway, that was where I was at for some reason. Not inside these palaces of silliness, but in a café on the same strip, painting.
I met some girls and they wanted me to do a portrait. I had the despair, and so I only asked $30 for a quick portrait.
Two hours later and I had this piece which I personally thought was fucking awesome, and I had done it for thirty dollars like a damned fucking depressed fool of a Paul.
They wouldn’t pay me any more, though I did ask, and of course cuz I gave it to 'em on the spot, I don’t have any record of it.
I went to pay for my coffee, and the guy who had been serving me and watching what I was doing gave me them for free.
He said “You are always welcome here.” Small acts of kindness break my heart.
I turned away before he could see the tears in my eyes.


	Elizabeth I By Paul D Robertson Watercolour, 35 x 25 cms. Available for sale Made this one up, once again. Interestingly, I made her too tall for me, heh..


I was finishing this off at some café in Northbridge (Perth’s place of enduring lame capitalist night club lunacy.) Nightclubs seem like such a BRILLIANT idea – continuous party yeah baby! Non-stop all set up for it with spinning things and shiny lights and big speakers and alcohol on hand EVERYBODY PARTY ALL THE TIME. But it is nothing like that of course. Sleazy and ugly and filled with the most absolute kinds of falsity that exist.. Anyway, that was where I was at for some reason. Not inside these palaces of silliness, but in a café on the same strip, painting. I met some girls and they wanted me to do a portrait. I had the despair, and so I only asked $30 for a quick portrait. Two hours later and I had this piece which I personally thought was fucking awesome, and I had done it for thirty dollars like a damned fucking depressed fool of a Paul. They wouldn’t pay me any more, though I did ask, and of course cuz I gave it to 'em on the spot, I don’t have any record of it. I went to pay for my coffee, and the guy who had been serving me and watching what I was doing gave me them for free. He said “You are always welcome here.” Small acts of kindness break my heart. I turned away before he could see the tears in my eyes.