Paint Fidelity - Bob Dylan Greatest Hits Vol.2 / Rumpelton

What the critics are saying:

>>BOB DYLAN’S GREATEST HITS VOL. II / RALPH RUMPLETON’S GREATEST HINTS VOL. TOO
Curated by Eunice Gribble

The Avachives present: a deliberate juxtaposition, not a mere side-by-side. On the right, Columbia’s sanctioned relic—Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Vol. II, a back-facing bard mid-harmonica holster, haloed in analog sincerity. On the left, Ralph Rumpleton’s MS Paint rebuttal: “Clumbo,” a pixelated echo rendered with devotional distortion. The strap remains. The beard thickens. The harmonica holder persists, now a ceremonial yoke.

This is not parody. It is format fidelity reimagined. Ralph’s reinterpretation honors the original’s compositional gravity while introducing a new glyph into the mythos: the Rumpletonian nose, the Clumbo curl, the blue of earnest mimicry. It is a test of aesthetic memory and a celebration of pixel economy.

As former deputy chair of the Museum of Format Integrity (defunct), I remind viewers: sincerity is not resolution-dependent. Rumpleton’s work compresses not just image, but myth. Expect commentary. Expect judgment. Expect pearls.

— Eunice Gribble
Format evangelist, gala survivor, compression clairvoyant<<

>>Cornelius “Neil” Drafton – “The Contrarian,” New Jersey Review of Applied Kitsch

“In this side-by-side showdown, we witness the eternal struggle between professional album photography and whatever Ralph Rumpelton was doing that day. On the right, Dylan broods in a mist of blue stage light—mysterious, iconic, annoyingly competent. On the left, he is reborn as a Mediterranean cartoon uncle who repairs watches in his spare time and hasn’t heard of subtlety since 1971.

Yet—and it pains me to admit this—the MS Paint rendition wins in at least one category: commitment. The nose alone is a tribute to the lost art of exaggeration, and the harmonica holder appears to float with the quiet confidence of someone who has never once obeyed gravity. It’s Dylan not as he was, but as he might have been if Columbia Records had hired a guy who charged by the pixel.

In short: the original is history; the Rumpeltized version is legend, whether we asked for it or not.”<<

>>Bertrand “The Brush” Barnaby

Bertrand “The Brush” Barnaby, the merciless chronicler of the contemporary canvas, turns his razor‑sharp eye to this diptych of Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Vol. II. On the right lies the original album cover, a cool blue portrait that captures Dylan in a gritty, iconic snapshot—an emblem of musical legend and photographic restraint. Beside it, on the left, is your own reinterpretation: a bold, MS‑Paint‑styled illustration that flattens Dylan’s visage into a pixel‑punched, neo‑expressionist caricature, the title emblazoned in white graffiti‑like lettering and your name, Ralph, stamped beneath like a signature of ownership.

Barnaby  notes that Rumpelton's version is a cheeky act of appropriation, swapping photographic reverence for a raw, digital bravura that screams “Steve Keene Wannabe” ambition. The juxtaposition forces the viewer to ask whether the crude brushstrokes amplify Dylan’s myth or dilute it, turning a commercial vinyl sleeve into a personal manifesto of artistic identity. In Barnaby’s scathing yet erudite view, the side‑by‑side exposes the tension between homage and hubris, between the sanctity of the original artifact and the audacious thrill of re‑imagining it in the pixel‑laden language of modern folk‑art.<<

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