STOMPER

Saturday, January 26, 2013.  My nephew used to call draft horses 'stompers.'  I immediately thought of that when I saw this image worn into the orange safety strip on the subway.  It might be one of the Titans, and every time his foot reaches the earth it becomes huge, the other foot lifted into the surrounding universe, and small to our sight.

MOONLIGHT IN THE PRIMEVAL FOREST

Sunday, April 29.  Ah, what mysteries unfold in this corner of the forest, lit by the golden light of a full moon?  The figures meet and perform the ritual, the trees and vines as witness to the dance.  It makes me sad to know that this work will soon be gone, an ephemeral piece of our City.

WHITE AND GREEN

October 30, 2011.  I love the milky white of subway tiles.  They are meant to just be background, to lull us, to not initiate any conflict, any struggle, any awareness.  Yet, they do the opposite.  On to them is projected a multitude of statements.  Maybe it is graffiti, or maybe it is a poster.  Just as often there are cracks that bleed through a multitude of glazes, glues and tar.  And then there is mold or some fungus.  In this case a wonderful green is growing and spreading, a Rorschach of sorts - small, isolated and exquisite.