Plastic Debit Card at Carbone

2024

Acrylic, Mixed Media, Spray Paint, Oil Stick, on Canvas

48 x 48 

$9500

I flew to Vegas with $200 and a shot at something bigger.

A major player in the affiliate and CRM world—someone who actually collects art—finally noticed my work. He told me he’d be out west, said I should meet him in Vegas. No hesitation. I booked a flight with the last of my money and went. No return ticket, no real plan—just a gut feeling.

That night, he invited me to Carbone—one of the best Italian spots in the country—with twelve of his friends. All of them wildly successful. The type of guys who laugh in six figures. The bill came out to something like $8,000. No one argued about it. They just threw their cards into a champagne bucket and played credit card roulette.

I had no business playing, but I still dropped my plastic debit card in with theirs—knowing full well if I was picked last, it’d get declined. But this was Vegas. I figured if I came this far, I might as well lean into the risk.

First card pulled? Mine.

Later, I thanked the server. Told him he saved me from a world of embarrassment. He laughed and said he didn’t even know it was mine—he just felt around and pulled the only plastic one. Said he figured whoever owned it probably couldn’t cover the tab anyway.

And he wasn’t wrong.

This painting is about that night. That leap. That risk that shouldn’t have worked out but did. It’s a snapshot of the exact moment everything started to shift for me. The moment I stopped waiting and started showing up—even if I had nothing but a debit card and a ridiculous amount of belief.