Weeks after the book was basically done, it came to me that these 48 prints were in fact a graphic novel with no story and no narrative and best left that way.
Imagine if you will, a long dead native American, shot for dancing. His unquiet soul now floats through these wasp-blown desert border towns by night. Imagine that he is always lost and what follows is what he sees, or perhaps what he dreams.
ThatÕs the feeling IÕm after.
There is nothing here for the art museums, ÒArt ForumÓ or the university establishment. I work only for those few who apprehend the world with the same 19th century, Swedenborgian goofiness as I do.
All others will be baffled or indifferent. (From the artist's introduction)