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Pulp art is lurid, smutty, and salacious.  What’s not to like? 

My covers are creative inventions, but I’m delighted some viewers have mistaken them for the real thing. The fact that these books read today as overblown camp or offensive dreck is an indication of how far we’ve come.  And yet I find myself drawn to reclaiming pulp art’s busty babes; sex may have been their only source of power, but what delicious domination it was….

For size and price details on any of these prints, please email me.