One can spot mismatched earrings, hoop earrings, bangles, a multitude of cross charms, a button advertising «Camp Beverly Hills,» and charms reading «I < 3 Jesus,» «True Love,» and even the name «Edie» amidst the overwhelming jumble of
shiny gold materials.
One of the sixteen small paintings that plays with me — holds me — the most is grounded by
shiny reflections reminiscent of pennies in a wishing well, layered with these thick, orgasmic (for the painterly painter), awkward rectangles of
material exploration which bar out Washington like stacks of
gold or grids of currency, all finally subtitled with the words, «I HOPE IT RAINS» — maybe or maybe not a reference to the Louis Prima song, «Pennies from Heaven.»