The Five Senses: Cop a feel. Sniff a whiff, sneak a peek, tongue the tang, ear ye ear ye, the eyes have it.

But what about the other 17 senses? ESP, ESPN, and NYSCA notwithstanding?

We may get a sense of that as we trudge along the spoor-studded Art Safari trail.

First clump:


Scott Patterson does a tangy nasal tango in this multi sensoral yin-yang mask of comedy and stubble cheeked tragedy called "Make Sense".

Could this be a rebuttal of David Byrnes' "Stop Making Sense"?




Return to the womb (in this case a double squash) and discover your long lost (not quite) identical twin.

Anna Contes shares the solo room spotlight of attraction and "Seasonal Bulbs" is swellingly swell. Or swolen.




John Jackson Jams!

I am totally in favor of severe tire damage wrist chopping for the bankster gangsters who have been pillaging lately.

I thusly bestow the Noam Chomsky  award for "Brashness of Banksters It's my money! I stole it! And I'm keeping it!"

By the way, it sold for $950. And Jackson "made off" with the Jacksons!




As soon as my eyes laid on Clare Kassor's "Wave Hill", I felt a major deja vu coming on over and over.

I have been there! I know that place. And it's so. I was there one afternoon. Great sculpture exhibits!




Oh, the cologne. Erica Minglis has completely broken the ozone layer with her dynamic pheromone powered olfactory over indulgence that is absolutely "In Good Taste".

As the Star Kist among us will testify, the key is to taste good...

perhaps to the point of cocoa vortex.



What is the sudden noise that has captured the attention of both the eater and the eatee?

Gary Ampel sets the dishes on the tableaux but doesn't say who gets et in "Run or Hide".



Nicole Kircher breaks the first rule of coloring books and paints outside the lines in "Untitled For the Creative Series".

It's a good thing there aren't two man-o-war fish in here because this bowl ain't big enough for the one of us.




The ding dong dangle dog prize goes to Lenny Kislin for the most fun to fondle sculpture in the show, "World's Greatest Toy".  I look forward to "world's other greatest toy" soon.

Although we officially discourage anyone (unless you buy it) from diddling the ding dong, There is a rumor that if you doodle it right, it rises up to it's name.





Douglas James Maguire gets crisp in "Conamara".

Crisp and painterly, that's what I always say. And be sure it glows. This one sheds an infra red penumbra on solo room A.





Good evening.

EmCee of the commercial interruption, Alfred Hitchcock's jowly profile is expertly manipulated by twist tie wizard Sparrow, whose ante deluvial chirps presaged the post deluvial deluge of Tweets of today...

The "bird bard" is, dare I say it, an oracle, a ventricle and a mineral. This geo-logical deposit of either ore is in solo room B.





Here's the universal yum-yum yin-yang stoneware mandala of love, "Lovers" by Jerilynn Babroff.

Perhaps this one leaves out the sense of sight or maybe there are visions we see with eyes closed...

Jan Sosnowitz carries the torch of love for "Jackson and Lee".

This Jackson's paintings also bring in the Jacksons.



Richard Treitner has a direct line to some senses that make no sense.

I sense it in his tumescent totem pole called "Grandmother Starwoman Pulling Stories From Her Belly".




Darwin's turnpike is littered with road kill.

"Chamelionaire" by Dave Channon is steeped in such irony, steep in vertical perspective and steep in price.

But what price can we put on the fabulous flamboyant family of life?


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