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Oil Painting on Panels 

I was always drawn to wood and having a wood working studio while living in Colorado that had plenty of scraps around only increased my desire to use wood in my paintings, such as in Turbinoid where a carved maple frame was meant to invoke bubble gum stuck to your shoe. However, the most amazing part that I've since found is that having painted on wooden panels that expand and contract over time, intricate spider-web cracks in the surface of the dried paint have appeared. Now, each crack has increasingly exposed separate layers of color, each color from a separate layer of glaze having been applied.

I should also say that: during this period, I was primarily concerned with focusing upon unexpected contextualization engendering humor or a tongue in cheek kind of foreplay, setting the stage for the utilization of conceptual layering in terms of context, materials, and the handling of these overall ideas with the addition of time as it relates to decay (for instance: in Blowfish the frame was meant to look as if it had been shipwrecked and then fished out of the sea). In essence, each work was meant to speak to its inception, creation, and the ongoing duration of its existence and decline.

This is why, I believe, I am so preoccupied with the cracks that have formed in each painting—it's as if each work is still a performance unto itself. There is one work in particular that stands out (Funky Chicken, which for many years resided in the collection of my 98-year-old mother-in-law, ז"ב), as it was here, in Israel, eventually hung between a Roy Lichtenstein and a Yaacov Agam :)  — however, for far too brief of a time, it did reside over a cook-stove, which, as you can imagine, inflicted all kinds of mayhem upon its surface! 

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