Adhesive LED Poetry Amalgam Neon The service elevator.Remnants of things gone wrong littering the path. “Art lives everywhere.” Process is met with a smile and belly laugh. The insanity of it all is what makes it worth pondering. Weeks, two weeks, of grinding. Small details. Wire this and cut that. A saw that runs on diesel, or at least sounds that way. “I just find the idea and I make things.” What drives all this is my question, but it’s in the DNA. I can’t find any other excuse. Just the purity of acting on intuition. Do we really need any other reason? Outside the window is a Chinese/English typhoon. The mic breaks. Backup. The battery is dead, in everything. Plug and play. “So you think my Impossible Roid looks like Bacon?” “Well, derivative.” Ouch. So good. A sucker punch. I like him. Craft. Is it too overused? We have a movement now after all but his hands are dirty. In the good way, and that for me is about toil. Labor. Things that take your eye out or your finger off, and things that separate those who make from those who fake. “I have no idea what to say about that.” “So do you want me to ask you anyway?” “Oh ya, for sure.” A flicker. The connection. Popping. No heat just brilliant white Novocain. The combination is clearly more than the sum of the parts. The effort required is explained simply by finishing the piece and then unveiling. You have questions? Fine, take them after you stare at what has become. It will take you a while but this piece isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, other than overseas in another handmade capture device. How to get it where it needs to be becomes part of the experience. There is something building here. Being with these people, making these images. Evidence of artistic crime perhaps. Testimony reflected in the small square, rectangles and audio input. Testing, one..two…three. Check. Check.