44 x 30 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

You look at them hard as if they were not more than some animated object driven from some alien source, and you’re not listening to what they’re saying any longer, because at some point it doesn’t matter any more. Their eyes slowly blink as they conjure up the next word. The hands help the verbalization. It seems absurd. You’ve risen above, or something. You’re trying so hard to understand, not the words, but what and how to love this thing. What is there in their essence that you love, that you need to love-because they are made of the same thing as you? The words come back and the bile rises, but you swallow it trying to remember how to love them and why you cannot and why you’ve loved so many others so easily and how. Then you hit a wall, and you realize that the issue it is not within them at all. That they may not even exist, or you, and that you are just energy in motion that has become all balled up at some point and stopped. Somewhere in your psyche, which is just as physical as you, just as powerful an element of the universe, there is suspended animation-absolute zero-ice 9. And it becomes shockingly apparent that the only thing that you have to worry about any more is tearing down that wall, subtly, but quickly-or violently-it doesn’t matter, as long as you tear down that wall that is damning you from the liberty and burden of unity.

30 x 44 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

The crusades never ended.

30 x 44 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

We chose our own fathers who art in heaven, hallow be thy name.
“Would any one preferred Henry Kissinger to Whitman?” she asked, “I heard they were both cross dressers.”
You couldn’t even laugh it was so thin in there. The lights went down, the flashes started and she was off, like a goddess transformed, the word became flesh. Off into the night armed with childish arrogance, ignorant of the wisdom she would achieve. A natural and fast learner.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

30 x 44 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

I had come to the house at precisely the right moment. Any sooner and I would have made a fool of myself with the wine. As it happened I’d never met a toymaker, and never really wanted to before that night in February. The wind conducted a winter suite that would have depressed the hell out of any one indoors so late in the season, but out on the pine dense hillside the driving snow brought the scent of benzoin gum and played chimes off the icy tree branches. Through the squall the house seemed only a hump in the mountain with windows like glowing, inviting eyes.

30 x 44 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

44 x 30 inches.
Oil, ink and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

Ng Mui’s Vision

44 30 inches.
Oil, Ink and chalk and oil pastels on paper.

44 x 30 inches.
Oil, ink and chalk and oil pastels on paper.

Mr. Mad

12 x 14 inches.
Oil, ink, and oil and chalk pastels on paper.

Minstrel

22 x 30 inches
Oil and chalk pastels on paper