Elvis on velvet

I remember when I was younger my mom would take me to this Mexican place near downtown Pontiac. There where hardly any windows and the ones that were there had thick black bars covering them. If I remember it right the place was like this faded green with yellow trim. It had one of those flashing signs outside that listed the daily specials. What was the most interesting thing about the place was the decor.  It was a dark and cool place. It seemed even in winter it was a constant 64 degrees. It smelt like old salsa and spilt beer, just that smell of a business that’s been there maybe a little too long and was slowly on its decline. The biggest thing for this young boy were the magical paintings.  The black velvet paintings with images of bullfights, mariachis and the latina women doing spinning and dancing.  This was in the “dining section”, everything pretty tasteful…maybe a little more revealing than what Mom would approve for a boy of 7, but still a little more cleavage than what she found appropriate.  What was magical about the place was the bar. The huge fish tank with snails and angelfish, the old men setting at the bar drinking cheap drafts and listening to Hall and Oates on the old jukebox.  What amazed me, and drew me to that area was the beautiful woman who adorned the walls. I guess in the early 80’s the latino community was a tad bit progressive in the area of sexual freedom and expression.  These black velvet ladies, with large breasts and hips to match…straddling a tiger or on a horse.  Each one a sultry smile and a “come hither” look.  This was my first experience with ladies in Art…and I was hooked. One of the biggest ones…the ran almost half the length of the bar was an intertwined lovers…the girl laying back, breasts heaving, back arched while the 80’s hirsute male (mustache included) was obviously on the upstroke. Their midsection covered by a few strategically placed sheets.  Below the two lovers, the Siente la Pasion.  I had no idea what it meant, but I’m sure it was naughty. Now looking back and my broken understanding of Spanish…I figured it out.

For years I’ve been entranced by that velvet vivacious visual vixen.  I could never figure out why until, one of my Ebay searches brought up an Elvis on Velvet.  Instantly the memory shot back to me and I felt naughty.  I started searching ebay…velevet paintings.  There, amongst the burros, the bullfighter and other mexican novelty paintings where the ones I remember from that Mexican restaurant.  No ” Siente La Pasion”  but still, women painted to reveal their most intimate moments.  There were ebony beauties with Afros and the black power fist held high.  A milky skinned redhead atop a white tiger, and a collection of latin women all sprawled out in intimate poses.    Why did I keep looking?  What was the allure?  I guess it comes down to this, it was the reality of it.  Black velvet gives this depth to the picture, a warmness to their smiles, a vitality.    It was nostalgic.

Now don’t lump me into a category of velvet painting pervert I dont have a secret room that is adorned with velvet art.  Actually I find it wonderfully tacky, and I would love to have a couple of hanging strategically placed around my home.  I think they speak to a time past, I think when I saw Elvis adorn the rhinestone cape on velvet that my true appreciatioin for it was tainted.   You then realize how silly it is.  I guess we all get like that at sometime.

I don’t know why I felt this was so important to remember, but I guess maybe someday I will get some velvet and write these words down on the canvas.  Perhaps someone will read them…their raised deep fuzzyiness, and perhaps grow to appreciate a lost art.   For those of you who may have one of these kicking around your house…well…if it needs a home.