Family concerns had me in Toledo, OH this past week and while staying with my folks it out of nowhere struck me as funny that their house has transformed into a bizarre little museum of my work. Walk in the front door and a really hideous sculpture (good in concept / bad in execution ) stands atop the piano. On into the family room and you fine a far better sample of my sculptural works and a print adorns the wall. Down the hall to the bedrooms and you pass the first comic submission I ever sent out.
My old bedroom has a lovely sample of early influences.
But two spots in particular seemed like weird little galleries. First the basement, where a collection of large charcoal works hang amid bags ready for the rummage sale, sewing machines, old hi-fi, lawn chairs, book shelves and the like.
Last but not least, the small gallery. Home to some nice little prints and complete with seating so one can gaze and admire.
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