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But the sword is not fearful. Everything passes away, suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will still remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the earth. There is no man who does not know this. Why then do we not turn our eyes to the stars? Why?
-Mikhail Bulgakov, The White Guard

Concrete is one of those constant Ugly realities of the modern world, NJ concrete, NY concrete, NJ, NY again. Endlessly trading one for the other, I hope I haven't traded in the belief that our hope lies in dreams and visions, tempered by a true love for the reality that over and over falls short of our hopes. My artwork tries to evoke a feeling of something beyond ordinary life, but mingling with it where the edges fray. My general interests also skew toward the surreal, and random. These personal pages are almost perfectly undisturbed since 2005, but you might find something of interest nonetheless.

From that casement one might see only walls and windows except sometimes when one leaned far out and peered at the small stars that passed. And because mere walls and windows must soon drive to madness a man who dreams and reads much, the dweller in that room used nightly to lean out and peer aloft to glimpse some fragment of things beyond the waking world and the grayness of tall cities.
-Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Azathoth