The Newborn King

The backyard is a variable extravaganza of compositions.

An overarching archetype of duality and banality.  Red against green but not in a Hark! The Herald Angels Sing kind of way.  We follow the winding crimson trail through thick emerald underbrush.  Snaps and collapse.

Here we find what was left behind.  The unfinished refined. A coil of polyvinyl chloride lies in wait like a snake or more like it’s skeletal remains.  A home now for vermin I can almost hear them squirming.  It’s hard to determine what left this place in disarray but I sense a general tone of dismay in the decay.

Not far from our last still life I find pillars three; one for death, one for life, one for technology.  Do you see the pipes peeking through greenery? Some ancient aqueduct left behind by a primitive bread of man.  Maybe this explains the overgrowth; or it could be the tropical climate applied to such confinement.  Fences and wood provide consequences and adulthood.

The final archeological discovery is bit more perfunctory.   Greco Roman influences collaborate with the tile department at Lows to create this less than immaculate oasis.  Again, we see water, this time held in place by extruded synthetic rubber.  It tries to blend in with its surroundings just using color.  Have you ever noticed what we call green, the plants, the tress and of course the grass on our knees, is closer to citron than the green in magazines?  Even nature is asked to conform to an unrealistic beauty.

In the shadow of the patio

Our sun pricks needles in my skin the moment I step outside the door. I retreat and revise, relocating to the cool oasis of concrete and vinyl. Here it smells like web, ash, and fur.  Every nook and cranny is a miniature vanitas; this place is a museum without patrons.

I will preserve these momentary photons on my complementary metal–oxide–semiconductor sensor.

I am the benefactor and viewer.

Soon, you will be too.

Snow white porcelain was the symbol of purity in Dutch still life painting.  These pieces are marred by cat hair and cob webs.  Entropy and calamity have brought them here together.  What could they mean today?

And here lies twine, once a great ruler of his time.  In shipyards and farmyards he was king of catastrophe. Now slowly consumed by eight legged, feline doom.  He sits in shit with nothing to fix.

And finally, what a travesty!

This could be surgical or clerical if the job description’s unclear.  It’s filthy with white from acid or base but nothing’s inside.  Like everything else it’s been attacked by thin legged beast, consumed by their silk and oxidizing in Florida’s tropical climate.

How many homes hold these solitary exhibitions?


Welcome to the City of Anotled

Welcome to the
City of Anotled


This project will be ongoing and evolving so I’ve decided to post it in the form of a blog.
I also don’t know how blogs work on wordpress so it forces me to learn.

How fun it is to kill two things with one bullet.

The following images are taken in a sleep deprived city on the edge of somewhere and nowhere.  Residents say it’s their best option and children of the city always say they hope to get out.  Unless they are like me, lazy and sentimental.  So I began walking the streets of my home town nostalgia goggles and a digital camera.

Everything here is perfect or just a little crooked.
Sometimes they’re both.