Long, late in the day, lonely shadows. Where are we, and does it even matter? An introverted and diverted gaze. But, she’s locked in on to you. A spider in her web. When is beauty nothing more than a device?
Harsh, ridden hard, sex appeal. She is out of place in this environment. And, we as viewer and participant, are startled by both her demeanor and her unconcealed “invitation” that we join her for the evening.
Thirty-six hours ago they said, “I do”. They did it!
April in Paris.
A French kiss.
They walk, hand-in-hand.
Flirtatious glances and exposed ribs. Empty, she displays the need for attention and affirmation that are the marks of a vacant society. Her gaunt face, emaciated body, noticeable vertebra, these are characteristics, the vulnerable woman, put on display. Bare, she is defined by her misguided priorities as she now misunderstands herself.
Istanbul Tea House
The rhythm of life is measured by amounts of tea and cubes of sugar. Dust churns in the street, I am hypnotized by swirling tea and bits of leaves. A five-thousand year old sun watches the ebb and flow of humanity. I am one, reliving glorious moments past, while I become the embodiment of the same moment destined to repeat itself.
The Briefcase (book cover concept)
Part of a chain gang one man assumes the identity of another.
Uptown, City Lights
Printed to human scale, the idea for this image is that we share its time-space. We stand next to her, near her, intimate, we share this moment gazing out over the waterway looking onto the city.
Faceless, I am the Millions Dead
When I was 11 or 12, my grandpa came out from his office carrying an old shoe box. He sat on the couch, removed the lid and pulled out black and white photos. He stared at them. I moved over to look at them. My uncle, a soldier during WWII, age 19, was part of the U.S. division that first entered Buchenwald.
Poem, written by myself, was then Illustrated to be an awareness piece.
Duality, the nature of man.
Lear the tormented man, mad yet sane, wonders the heath.
Spoon the Mediterranean! Never has Turkey seemed less Turkish.