“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Technique has never inspired an idea for one of my shows. Or even a title for a piece. By the way, titles mean very little to me. It’s a visual medium. If you have to look at the artwork through the lens of what the artist wrote as its title, you are not using the discipline for what it was intended. You are not looking.

A man and a woman walked into my exhibition, “Afloat: An installation” in New York last March. They were an extremely engaging couple. They “got” my work to an extent that no one usually does. We laughed and joked about things and it turned out they were artists.

The woman had been doing some work with crayon and a hair dryer. Blowing the hot wax around. Using acrylic paints as watercolors by watering them down and letting them drip. Artist talk. I enjoyed them immensely. They could see the theme of most of my collages was based on natural disasters. They were inspiring me to use the technique of paint running all over the canvas as something to try for my new body of work.

Mudslides and Meteorites.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Very recently, I purchased an infrared sauna. Now, this idea came to me from my allergist who told me it would clear the toxins from my body, such as environmental toxins, like metal and plastic. He also told me it would help relieve a sinus problem I have had for a very long time.

I even heard from some metaphysically minded folks that infrared sauna use would eliminate “bad energy.” Such as someone glaring at you in the supermarket, which apparently goes into your system. Or more blatant bad events, like a car accident or a fight with your spouse. Or someone’s jealously that manifests into so-called “thought evil” doing your body harm.

Infrared waves (heat waves) go through the sauna, and unlike a regular sauna, a person doesn’t get as hot. But profuse sweating occurs. The toxins come out of the person’s body by way of sweating. Being in it for a much longer period of time is possible.

It’s a little spooky to imagine these unusual waves are shooting around in this small box. I have seen movies where infrared glasses are used to track down criminals at night. And there are infrared cameras, familiar to us all. A kind of green light is shown.

No green light. Just a regular-looking sauna.

The first day, after being in the infrared sauna, I noticed that food tasted better. After the second day, things got a little weird.

I felt so clear, calm and clean, that toxicity was craved. I needed some crap in my life. I felt this urge to turn on the news. (I never watch/listen to the news) Apparently, my body must be so full of toxins that the absence of them produced this effect. I had two Diet Cokes, not one. Three glasses of wine, not two. I craved bags of m and m’s before dinner. Not like me at all.

Hopefully, we have not evolved to the state where being normal is being full of crap.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

The figure here looks like it is separated from the “background.” With the exception of a few cotton ball wrappers, linking them together. Usually I integrate the so-called background and foreground in collage, painting or drawing, making it one piece.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

Sea gulls. I had no reason for putting one in my collage at the time. But looking at the collage now, it reminds me of those wonderful days at the beach. Disrupted only when I would have a picnic with friends and seagulls would be swarming overhead, squawking and circling, ready to dive-bomb our lunch.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

One of my drawing teachers in art school told us to turn our papers upside down to check the composition of a drawing. Or to look in a mirror, holding the piece. That this would help us see what was needed to make the drawing work. Of course, we would turn it right side up to finish and present it for criticism.

Well, the piece shown above was framed wrong. It was framed not upside down but rotated to one side. I decided to leave it that way. And to continue on. After all, if the composition is sound, it works. Right? Maybe not as well as it would have. But as I said, I have to move on.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

At this point, in my making of 100 collages, I was getting a little silly. A tiger dragging a shark out of the water? Confidently silly. Cats with fish in their mouths; Why can’t a tiger do the same with one of its own size?

Punchy, at this point, I had only ten to go, and I was really tired and under deadline. After all, the edges had to be painted (three coats of white), the pieces taken to the framer, the photographer to photograph them. Everything, in a series of 100. counting and counting them again. Endlessly counting them. Storing them, moving them on hand trucks in boxes, ten to a box, with each wrapped in bubble wrap. Unwrapping each time, for each procedure.

The photographer, Tom Meyer, who, by the way, did an excellent job, told me the hardest part of photographing these collages, was the wrapping and unwrapping of the bubble wrap. Tom returned some to me wrapped with bandaids. I never asked why. He had a hard enough time with my masking tape sticking and tearing the bubble wrap.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This image is one of which I am fond. I don’t think many people gravitate towards it, because it is subtle. Also it has a lot going on. I just sold a few more of these in this series. As the buyers browse my collage “book” (the collages in print form), they tend to bypass this one.

Among others, they are attracted to the one of the ballet dancer, dancing on top of the water. One buyer in particular, is a doctor treating people with terminal illness. She said, although she really liked that one, that purchasing it would not be good for her patients because the water indicates danger, even though the dancer is “rising above” it.

I did not assemble these collages for a certain audience. I did them by the standards of what I feel is good art. If people like them and want to buy them, it is wonderful and affirming of my standards. But if they don’t purchase them, and some are left over, I have them to remind me of the process, which to me is the most important.