I have sailed the seven seas,
crossed the Arctic on my knees,
but I’ve never worn a salamander suit.

I have scaled the highest peaks,
and explored the deepest creeks,
but I’ve never caught a golden bandicoot.

I have read the works of Shakespeare
(— whatever it takes, dear),
but I’ve never found that pleasure’s absolute.

Some day very soon,
I’ll reach for the moon,
but I’ve never had a working parachute.


Artist’s Statement

My artwork is grounded in the process of transformation, be it of the mnemoteutic or of the insular deceptions of city life. Having said that, I’m always eager to explore the subtle meniscus  between automorphic continuity and everyday texture on the one hand, and the seductive panegyrics of (re)constructed f(rag)ments on the other.

For me as an artist, the me(trop)olitan has always evoked notions of harmony and inner peace — a poetics of metastasis, if you will.

My main influence is Daffy Duck.


Bracegirdle thought nothing of riding to Aleppo in dead of night, to hear the chimes with Considine’s boys, or to canoodle with poules in the Quartier Bourse.

His wife suspected nothing, and said she thought he was exercising the camels, though in hindsight it is difficult to accept her credulity on this point. She herself had been seen on a trireme with Tollander, a mere two months after her wedding. The Sentinel reported that they were having a ‘wizzo’ time in each other’s company — the very same Sentinel that had described her engagement to Bracegirdle as ‘a match made in the Land of Beulah’.


Pater noster


Yo God! You ever thought of getting married?

You know: lil’ wifey… settle down… raise a family?

Instead of calling your kids ’Sky’ and ‘Nebraska’, they could be ‘Firmament” and ’Nebula’ (I kill me!).

No? Not tempted?

Yes, I know you had a ‘son’, and you’re God ‘the Father’, but let’s face it, the devil is in the details, and the details are wacko:

Your son’s mom was a virgin (ahem!) and there was some surrogate deal with a carpenter (a carpenter?).

Your ‘son’ never married either, did he? Is there a pattern here?

Ok, maybe fatherhood’s not your thing.

Just thought it might give you some perspective.

BTW: six kids blown to bits in Syria yesterday. Car bomb. Way to go.