In 2007, from a stranger a thousandrnmiles away, a New York City photographer named Yaniv "Nev" Schulman received the gift of a bad painting. It was a painstaking re-creation of a photo he had taken of a female dancer held aloft by her partner against a dusky sky. As a photograph, it was nice enough (if a bit overly romantic) to take up half a page of the now defunct New York Sun; the painting, rendered in pastel tones, only enhanced the cheesiness lurking within.
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