Whenever I take my car to Mobley Tire for repair (or anywhere for that matter), I wander through the mini-wasteland next door. It sort of borders on a strip club and a pet crematory (I can’t find a good joke in that… make up your own). Some of the stuff has been there for years, some looks like it was dropped off yesterday.
This image has all the right stuff to make it susceptible to good artspeak descriptors, so here goes:
Within this image, there is a disassociative juxtaposition within the repetitive seduction of a seemingly chaotic yet structured and textural fugue. Built with a constrained and harmonious palette and dynamic tonal range, it’s objective content is interlaced with just the right amount of visual jangle and droll humor.
This entry has been quite satisfying to my artist remnants.