oil on canvas
22.5″ x 30″
oil on canvas
33″ x 26″
Western Bus Homebound
oil on panel
26.75″ x 28.5″
oil on canvas
16″ x 20″
“Mississippi Sunset And A Louisiana Moon”
Excerpt from Paint It Black
Excerpt: â€œWhy you even answer the door then?â€ Topher said, hitting the doorjamb with the heel of his hand.
The word fuck was not in that sentence, but he managed to make it sound like it was. Topher now had his pissed-off face on. He had reduced his human interactions to about four modes: pissed off, pleading, triumphant, and sarcastic happy. His long shorts flapped loose on him, the pink prosthetic shins and ankles mud-splattered and the plastic feet stuck into dirty tennis shoes.
â€œLook, Topher, I donâ€™t wanna give you money today. You smell like puke. If you want some food, Iâ€™ll make you lunch.â€
â€œVegetarian crap. You think I can live on Thai food? I gotta have some protein. Protein costs money.â€ Topher was already looking up and down the block, searching for someone else to hit up. Nina could smell the desperation emanating through his scraggly red beard.
â€œTopher. Not today.â€ Nina didnâ€™t like the schoolmarmy tone she heard herself using. She started to lean back inside the door. Her sweet little brother had once made her a log cabin by gluing together a bunch of their dadâ€™s Cuban cigars, when he was about five or six. He had not even been punished because of the famously irresistable Toph grin.
â€œYeah, well, thatâ€™s easy for you, you always got enough to eat, a warm place to sleep, people to cry on their shoulder. Whatâ€™s five or ten bucks to you? You wonâ€™t even notice it. For me, itâ€™s survival for another day.â€
Nina wondered if ten bucks towards Topherâ€™s habit might not save someoneâ€™s car window or stereo, but she didnâ€™t want to be blackmailed. Topher growled like a terrier and loped off down the wet sidewalk. The complex action of the ankle joints shifted, turned, and bore his weight as he disappeared around the corner.
EntropyÂ (excerpted below) in â€œFightinâ€™ Wordsâ€ (Heyday/PEN, 2014)
The classroom glares like a radiation chamber
Rectangular funnels of light ricocheting off walls of concrete and steel
Between more concrete and steel
The stratosphere of San Francisco County Jail
I stand in front of the chalkboard
Littered with broken psalms, gang emblems
Iâ€™m there to teach writing, to turn the classroom into a lighthouse
To show how a pencil can be used as a laser beam
To illuminate the scars of those thrashing about in the waters
Incarceration is being caught in sharkâ€™s teeth
Three rows pointing inward
One falls out, a lawyer fucks up
No time off for time served, no possibility of parole
Another tooth pulling each one of the men closer to the throat
Closer to being swallowed up
Our societyâ€™s disappeared
I tell my students to think of their confinement
As a writing retreat, all expenses paid
While I go to jail armed with three dots and a jot
To dig into where I am not
Ducks at Play
A simple park bench sits center stage. There is a trash can upstage left. Downstage right is an old (drinking) water fountain.
RANDALL BAKER is seated in the center of the bench. Randall is a man in his early 70s, but looks younger. He has his head tilted back and is soaking up a mid-afternoon sun–eyes closed. Randall is wearing a jogger’s jump suit.
MAX KURTZ (also in his 70s) enters. Max is dressed simply. He carries a brown paper bag in one hand and has a small multi-colored throw pillow tucked under his arm. When Maxsees Randall on the bench he stops. He studies Randall for a long timeâ€¦
“Poopala” &Â “I’d rather feel rubber.” Â Pair of billboards designed using videoÂ taped role plays and then hand painted. Â Painters: Â Sisters In Transition (aÂ group ofÂ women getting out of the Massachusetts Correctional Institute forÂ Women at Framingham in Massachusetts),Â D. ‘Alwan and theÂ Buffalo Gals.Â Â Installed inÂ Roxbury, MA.Â 1992
Tattoo Expo, acrylic and gold leaf on canvas, 24″ by 18″
Vanity Drawer, acrylic and gold leaf on salvage wood, 11″ by 16″
Edgar, stained glass with enamel, 2’5″ by 4’5″
Smoker, screen print ink on paper, 14″ by 16″
Triangle IV (Earlville)
Single channel video projection
Triangle IV (Earlville) imagines a projected diagonal extension to the existing gallery space. The work questions the permanence and immutability of architecture. The projected image is a photograph of a miniature architectural space.
Digital print on vinyl
323â€ x 140â€
Spiral is a large format print installed in the atrium of a stairwell. The image is a photograph of a miniature staircase created by the artist. The viewerâ€™s perspective of the image changes as he or she moves from the first floor to the second floor.
Latex paint on wood
96″ x 120″ x 48″
Much of my work involves building and photographing miniature architectural models. Although the actual models are never shown as artworks, they play an important part in the process of making my projection installations. The work Recede V is a life-sized recreation of what was originally a miniature architectural model. Recede V uses layered frames to transform our perception of space and creates an illusion of a larger space.
Two channel video projection
The work Up/Down II explores our understanding and experience of architecture and space through imagination. The images are stills of miniature model staircases constructed by the artist. Even if we cannot enter the images, we still can imagine ourselves entering the projected space and walking up and down the stairs.
Single channel video projection
Gaping Interlude is a site-specific projection installation. The work imagines the gallery space, including the cement floor, extending into the imaginary projected image. The cutout in the projected space creates a void that stands in contrast to the materiality of the architecture.
Four square monks drive a Coupe de Ville
Through the vale, over the hill
To get to where the savings are,
They square their shoulders and point the car
They bang their heads when the radio blares
That song about the lady who bought the stairs
With all this free time
I was going to write a novel
about a middle-aged man
whose idealism had gotten
infiltratedâ€”in the same way
that Sharia law
the civic body of Michiganâ€”
by hysterical anxiety
over his kidsâ€™ safety
I went to the second-hand store
to pick up some second-hand smoke
but the smoke got in my third eye
on the 4th of July
while I drank a fifth of rye
to myself for the sixth
time since my seventh