GREATand small. 

Good things come in small packages, just be sure to close the door behind you. Great things come in handy! Laurel and Hardy. Sturm und drang. Hollywood and Vine. Great Caesar's ghost and a hill of small beans. Where would one be without the other? Where would Phoenicia be without The Arts Upstairs? (Answer: west of Mt. Pleasant, It just wouldn't be the same though.) So let's get out the dusty old opry glass and look through the wrong end and an elephant, and the right end at an ant. It's all the same to me, Safari Dave.







Jerilyn Babroff serves high tea to "The Couple". A fruity concoction of Justin Love and Carmen Miranda if there ever was one, and there is now

I'll have mine with milk and sugar, please, two lumps.





Dave Channon (what a guy) gets out the armor piercing hubcaps and bends some gender with "Ben Her", the high fashion stone age doll and her zoomin' chariot.


Whoah, Bessie!





This painting by Anonymous Blonde reminds me of the last scene in Total Recall, where the ice volcano on Mars erupts atmosplere and makes the planet inhabitable. Some scientists say "The Ice Age Cometh" and some say the poles are melting in a collossal methane tundra fart. Either way, Arnold will save us in the next sequel, 20.000 years from now.







Fill 'er up and check the oil. Kevin Green makes good use of stuff we normally melt down in "Metal Day #2".
holiday shoppers take note- this one got snatched up for an incredible, unbelievable bargain price.








Brrr. It's a cold morning for a "Country Walk" by Annette Janet. The fresh watercolor washes are crisp as the frosty air.

Hot cocoa anyone?





O.K. O.K. I did her last month, I know.

Tough nuggies.

Babette Kiesel's Duchampian reverso tit box reveals a complex inverted multiple reflection of earthly hemispheres (when you make like a mam and peek into the maidenform nipple apertures.)

I suggest Babette make future creations out of wood instead of cardboard boxes. They are too great to disintigrate.








Here's what I saw... A world torn in half with ice caps punched out, and snared in a collossal NO!

Your results will vary.

"To Be Or Not To Be" is a chilling, succulent reminder that we have only one planet.

And turns you into a boob head at the same time.





Nina Lasky flings a mean charcoal stick.

Her bodaceous solo show of oversize drawings, paintings and alabaster figurines prove that talent runs in the family.

I had a hard time picking one, but "American History 101" just jumped out and bit me.







Speaking of jumping up and biting, Richard Treitner pulls out his Eskimo dangle poker in "Fish Hunter".

Why do Eskimos fish? Because they're Inuit.

The sharp. barbed wit penetrates easily but doesn't come out.

Unlike Richard himself.

Fortunately, igloo living tends to reduce annoying inhibitions like modesty.

Dangle away!








While on the subject of fish,

Ian Warpole is too coy. But "Two Koi" is a magically delicious painting that borders on photo realism jazzed with juicy strokes of color that would make Wayne Thiebaud salivate.





Lynn Fliegel has quite a few lovely paintings in this show but I picked "Landscape 2" because the mellow rosy sunset twilight glow warmed me like a sip of Armagnac by the fire.








And now for something completely different.
In the opposite direction altogether rushes Jesse Owen headlong into a furious storm of mashed color titled "Study of Man's Head".





"Blissed Out" is the spin art version of a Warhol Hare Krishna on LSD.



Thank you for this moment of bliss,

I'm melting, Steven Russel.







I am always intrigued and beguiled by Lora Shelley's quietly contemplative paintings and the eerie almost non human quality of her characters.


"Seeing Double With Cat's Head" displays a different side, a Degas stage lit pair of very human, emotionally asymetric egos bound by a single feline instinct.



Kenn Whyte gives us a "Sign at Tivoli".

Give us a sign! The streetlights (or trainlights as the case may be) bear hooded visors like cigar smoked bookies in a betting parlor.

A wiggly web of shadows echo the anthropomorphic ganglion of lanky brackets.





Last but not least, this truly best bargain of the entire show was snatched at the opening,

Ricky Sanchez hits the nail on the head with "Untitled", a gilded statement about poverty, hunger and desperation in the great American wasteland.

It is ironic how large the waists are in this wasteland. We ain't wasting away, that's for sure.


It was great to have your eyeballs on my Art Safari, but do bring along your whole body to the next openng at The Arts Upstairs on Saturday, December 20.

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