After completing his MS Paint reimagining of The Last Supper, Ralph Rumpelton vanished for exactly 11 hours and 11 minutes. When he returned, he was holding a glowing onion and speaking only in Gregorian chant. He told Zapple, with complete sincerity, that the onion was “a gift from the Museum of Time,” and that he had been appointed its temporary custodian.
Ralph now lives in a converted submarine sandwich shop in rural New Mexico. He sleeps in the bread oven and uses mayonnaise packets to catalog dreams sent to him by “The Four Forgotten Monkees,” who communicate exclusively through the static between AM radio stations.
Every Tuesday at 3:07 a.m., Ralph paints upside-down portraits of jazz musicians he claims don’t exist yet. He insists he’s already heard their albums in a future where all music is distributed via sneeze.
Meanwhile, he’s building something he calls The Infinite Easel—a canvas that wraps around the inside of a hollow asteroid. According to Ralph, it will only be viewable during lunar eclipses if you’re listening to Captain Beefheart backwards while eating pineapple with chopsticks.
When asked what he’s trying to say with his new work, Ralph responded:
“I’m not saying anything. I’m whispering everything.”
He’s currently accepting commissions in the form of harmonicas, vintage cereal boxes, or shortwave transmissions of lost soap operas.
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