I tend to work tiny. In part it’s a preference for intimate art that can be held in one hand. In part it’s an expression of my fascination with the microcosms of life. And in part it’s a reaction to self-consciously big artistic statements.
My interest in the world’s offbeat details started with my childhood in Coney Island. With its falling-down tenements, half-built housing projects, street litter, garish neon, abandoned thrill rides, rotten boardwalks, dirty beaches and diverse collection of characters (including a real live freak show), the place was already a kinetic artwork about the persistence of life amid urban decay. I’m sure that’s what got me interested in discarded bottlecaps, weeds, lichen, moss, mold and the insect colonies that thrive in the cracks and crevices of old streets, sidewalks and buildings. Not to mention the dogs and strange people and space aliens that thrive above those cracks and crevices. So these paintings and drawings reflect both the colors, textures and shapes I’ve seen and the stories I concoct about them in my head.
Appropriately, I work in a wide variety of media, including gouache, watercolor, oils, pastel, pencil, charcoal, paper, wood, metal, bamboo and found or readymade objects (cocktail parasols, mini-pie tins, bottlecaps). And just as I like to look closely at the obscure corners of the world, I invite you to look closely at the work here. (But try to see it in person, too, because this 72-dpi is killing the finer points.)