When I met Maggie
on the street ususally,
amid trash and jumble and noise

she was a work of art herself,
risen from the dumpster with spangles
and beer tabes
and casset ribbon woven into her hair,
pinpointing earlobes,
soul shining.

Tonight, coming home,
I could not get her out of my head
Her words speak for me.


"This is art! I form it out of the quickening life-pulse of terra- my matter is of the lowest-common-denominator. Albeit incomplete, this modern, jagged wilderness is a discordant urban jungley jumble. Amid the disquieting buzz of the chain saw, and the clouds of burning smoke, it seems certain we can't readily agree on what has real, lasting value. I take our collective unnatural stuff which is deemed wothless and use it to create colors which are at once tough and tender. The materials I choose are the unnecessary to tip one's sense of scale, the poised result balanced between irony and whimsy. I establish unity by seeking to include the offensive as an aid in reconstituting the dissolutional shapes of things still yet to come. I utilize the spoiled for texture- the wasteful makes up my overall pattern. My spontaneous, unfinished arrangements of parts become the completed gestalt. It is art with a capital "A", and it is my up-to-the-minute breakdown of barriers between me and my audience. ...someone asked the reason for the hubcap show... and Maggie's words rose and took shape.

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