A Charcoalized Hedge
My stepdaughter, Jillian, and I were heading to lunch. We could smell the legacy of the fire before we could see it: A freshly gutted pizza restaurant. Immediately to its north was a sculpture of charcoal skeletons, lined up in military precision.
Others might have seen an incinerated arborvitae hedge. I saw the sculpture—or, at least, the potential for a sculpture. All I could do was stare. But Jillian urged me to act. So, after lunch, I went back home, got my bow saw, and went to work.
Reassembled, I call it â€œHold the Pizza Orderâ€. . .or, informally, “that bunch of burnt sticks in the basement.” Whatever we call it, it will be in the main gallery in my March show at Gallery 114, InkBodySkinPaint+Fire.