NAILS ON WOOD

Saturday, March 16, 2013.  Metal and wood figures in a lot of work I see.  Central Park's trees try to incorporate metal that they come in contact with and encircle it, to hide it, to include it.  This post cannot grow, the staples and nails are there, visible, permanent, unless someone removes them.  They are a testament to the utility of this post as a communications tool.  Over and over messages were left and removed, read and destroyed, remembered and forgotten.

GRATE REPEAT

June 26, 2011. I am often amazed by something that I didn't see before. Why didn't I see this? What sorry shortening of vision caused me to miss it? What extraordinary vision caused this to come into being when there were so many options to do far less? The repitition of patter and the directing of the eye, subtly, but still insistent.

WRECKAGE

June 20, 2010. This is a smash-up of the first degree. These were new. An enterprising someone built ships, planes, yachts and sundry other items from soda and beer cans. He had so many of them that they were piled behind his street stand on the sidewalk. The planes here glinted in the sunlight, shimmering like a bed of multicolored jewels.