I was easily the most famous painter to have never given his name to a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle but i don't care because i created art so filthy it would make a sailor blush, assuming they could make out what was going on because some of it was a bit vague.When i was born i wasn't breathing and the nurses declared me dead on arrival and in the way of 19th Century medicine, the remedy was for the doctor to shrug and tell my parents try again in nine months but the very fact that doctors were tragically incompetent back in those days is exactly what saved my life, the doctor was puffing away on a cigar right there in the delivery room and as he leaned over the seemingly dead child, he breathed a cloud of smoke right into the baby's face, i started coughing, and one of the greatest artists of the 20th century was granted a second chance at life and the chance to go on to revolutionize art in the way that only someone whose first breath was full of addictive chemicals could.
I was a young prodigy who ironically, when i matured largely took to drawing child-like pictures and was the founder of cubism and my lover, Dora Maar, featured in dozens of my paintings right up until she had a nervous breakdown which happened quite a lot with my muses, one burnt her beautiful face on my burning lighter, another mistress hung herself, my estranged son committed suicide by drinking bleach.
In one picture i painted a portrait of my 22-year-old mistress not only to capture her beauty to show off that i was 50 and nailing a 22-year-old and to make sure everyone knew it, i drew my own semi-erect penis on her head because nothing says 'I'm doing her' than painting your own genitals draped across the head of your girlfriend.
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