Illuminations... Moments of insight, maybe just a candle. Something bright, too hot to handle. A Coleman mantle. A dark ages illustrated book, copied by scribes, not laser printer. Now I understand how brightly lit one idea can stand. Gather hope all Ye who enter...

Van Gogh saw a brighter light than most. the hot sun of Arles scorched his eyes and gave our world some of the most powerful visions ever seen.

This drawing by Nancy leilah Ward, "Soul Vessels", captures that blistering light.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh. Now that we are reduced to bar codes and chips, strings of ones and zeros, it's time to feel the cool reality of a copper sheet in intimate contact with our smiling faces.

Paul Delamarter illuminates our "Artificial Pride" with an integrated circuit board.


Much better than a segregated one.

Nancy Howell's "David and Goliath Letter B" reminds me of the scene in Monty Python's "Quest For the Holy Grail" where the crusaders encounter the knights who say nee."

In other words, I like it a lot.

Clop clop. I fart in your general direction.


Hattie Iles rides a thin line between anime and harry Potter.

"Hathor" seems to tell a biblical story, but which lamb will wear the wolf's clothing?


The last time I was in Florence was the last time I felt this way.

Thank you, Lynn Fliegel, for reminding me of those good times.


Joe Klein has left his painting "Untitled." I really hate that, but in spite of the fact that I hate it when artists wimp out in the title department, I will not exclude this pure exercise in color field symmetry.


Hello, Pamela Martin. There. I said it. Pamela Martin. Pamela Martin. Pamela Martin.


"Pieces of Stars" hangs in the balance between me and the hills.

I think of snowflakes and those little origami paper finger toys we used to tell fortunes with when we were in third grade.

Remember those folded paper Nostradami, Pamela Martin, Pamela Martin, Pamela Martin, Pamela Martin?



Paul Savage placed no price on this glowing photograph of sunset through the pines called, "Untitled."

I think he will sell it for $450.



Jagged ragged squggles, like neon noodles in a cosmic ginza strip agitate our ragged "Too Much Caffiene" nerves. Michael Bishop

I used to get very annoyed that "The Visitor" would gobble up all the seeds in my bird feeder... until I devised the ultimate visitor deterrent.

If you buy Margaret Owen's lovely artifact, I will tell you how I did it.


Rite Salluzzi is "Drowning in Words"

Sometimes you can drown in words that are only three inches deep.

Richard Treitner is just about the most gol-darned illuminated person I know. He's a proverbial illuminati.

This archway is the last chance you will have to remain in the darkness before seeing the light.



Now you've done it. You done went and entered the Richard Treitner room.

This is the first time Arts Upstairs has devoted a big chunk of their gallery to a solo show and I hope it becomes a regular feature.

"Destruction of Childhood" is an ironic title because Treitner seems to have retained a big hunk of childhood to this very day.

I see the the "Full Moon" rising. I see Karen Whitman on the way.

I smell chicken fat pudding. Delicious!

Debbie Martin is a quilter. And quilters prosper.

"Universal Energy" draws on the scene in 2001 when all the planets allign and the obelisks fly out of Jupiter and the crazy psychedelic stuff starts to happen.

I just want to rub it between my fingers and suck my thumb but I will restrain myself for a change.

Come to the next opening at Arts Upstairs on Saturday, October 13