Saturday, March 2, 2024

Jim Meirose, Bed

 


Bed Enameled, image by Daniel Y. Harris


Bed                                                                                                 

Roll’d over, as it’d engulfed them completely by that time. Judge, they could not have known where they were any more. But.

Hurry! Hurry! In one piece!

One piece’ll huff’n ‘nd puffin’n blow but one piece-part. Pip!

Party!

Smooth-sailing.

Wonderful!

Top-mayor this time met with the General Manager, who’d called that morning only saying, Eh Top? Ya, me. Okay there’s a plan on the desk here, come on, yes. Yes, a possible way out, yes. I know—oil-painted sailing ship on the office wall looming larger than ever and ever—perhaps it does seem to have taken a bit too (0) long but, behind the painted panel jut’d two screws holding the picture hangers—so all-consumingly important while the picture’s being hung, especially if there’s a glass picture-face, and a hard floor beneath, so important. 1 2 3 4 3 4 5 6 7  Oh so, so important, that litsy-bitsy hook’s the world it seems; all the world, it seems; ‘til, the juke drops safe n’ sound into the safe of the bolthook, and the attention drains back off the hook’d back, to the much more enjoyable to swoon over sailing-ship front. And, the hook—though still important and the cause of the offices overall stability, and thence happiness—is—forgotten. Never thought of again. Just, forgotten. U’. Anyway, but; I got a plan put together. Can you come down and see it and listen to it, from out this same mouth speaking now, but then and there as I propose it, it will be so damn much closer so-so, see, you will find yourself unable to resist. The idea popped out back while they were all crying, Anthony Haas’ house blew up, Ma! Ma’ bunny! Li’l bunny! Li’l bunnies’ house blew up! Drive me out to see it, can you Dad? Can you oh can you oh oh can you, Dad? 5 6 7 8 9 6 7 8 9 10 8 9 10 The rain it’s pouring and it's after dark, I know, but please, Dad? Please? A drive? A drive I can blast the car radio in, Dad? So I can so I can nag nag nag nag, Dad? So I can blast the car radio, the radio car radio, so, I can blast, and then blast, the car radio then. ‘nd again, and again, and again?

Thank you Dad!

(snort)

After that we felt that the forms we’d devised may not have been needed at all. Nor the whole census itself, perhaps, but—no, hey, listen. Do not look so amazed. Or look doubtful, either. Here, here. Heavens To Betsy Burry’s Are Good. Plus, it’s possible—it just may be possible, Bunny, that what happens when planet Earth finally gets pushed off the edge may not—no do not call him Bunny, Mom. At least not in front of the other kids, because they will make fun. 11 12 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 14 15 They mean the death of all on board, but rather, yah, and that goes for that other one, too. Yes, that one sitting over there, see them? See them chopping up that great big board with that—that damned thing. That’s the one you so offhandedly called Sweet Pea. I mean, look who you are calling Sweet Pea. Or Bunny, even. Sweet Pea. Bunny. Hear them? Don’t both sound ridiculous? For God’s sake, please; heavens to Betsy, Burry’s are good. See? Hear? See hear how silly? This is why we started think that this kind of “death” may not actually be “death” at all. No no no, but—a kind of, ahem, other place, you see. Just like this place. But lower. This said, then, if I were you, I’d call them no more Bunny, M-Mommy. Plus no more Sweet Pea ‘la looney-t’, too. Just as good planets forced out of existence the way we’ve been worried over, may actually end up in a lower place, that all the pointers to which just got forcibly severed, damn tootin’. 16 17 18 19 20 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24  Which may not even be a problem at all, you see. Damn-damn tootin’. Like; the way you were saying there’s a big blown up house over there? Eh? Could be worse you know. Could be your house, you know. Right, Sweet Pea, Bunny? Yes? Right? Wrong? Or maybe even who cares, Bunny? Hah. Why did we not see this sooner as so simple? Seems like as a collective species we have forsaken such simple alternatives. We lost sight of the fact that the folks hereabouts aren’t the only folks that be. Shows that we need to keep on, ‘n go on, ‘n try harder, lookin’. But anyway, what? Oh? Where’s my proof, you ask? Okay—here’s my proof; I just sent those two spouses +Proust+ to the MOON nah nah nah, he, I funnied! I keed. Yes, I keed! Please, disregard all such outbursts. Bailiff, please bailiff, ah bailiff, a Gimi ah bailiff please, pl-l-lease—and thank you. Oh thank you. Anyway, Judge, the way things were ripped, I looked down in the car from the upper left quadrant. I observed Master Haas sitting 25 26 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 28 29 30 31 32 29 30 31 32  (33) 32 31 30 29 32 31 30 29 28 30 29 28 27 26 25 24 23 26 25 there round, while his out-of state MommaPop/great big PoppyMomma, or two three or more, ignored his plight completely. I mean it was like—it was—like, eh ah wah eh hey Puk-the-big-Ray, my terminal’s off the center-line today. It was that bad a problem. And the cries such as, If you please, Gimi, up out of the noise, please—laced with Never mind that, Bunny, never mind this. Just take cover, Gimi—but why’d you take cover ‘nd leave me out here? Sweet honey it was pitiful to hear. Like, Out here all bony like this, Gimi? Why, Gimi, my Bunny, my Pea? And they went on to claim that if Anthony were really Bunny, and not at all the Anthony he just happens to be, then the rule to apply would be that same old hollow law what drove Top-mayor’s first simultaneous jawdropper, remember? Remember their “incomprehensible mutterances off the center line”?  But never mind that—but hey, look. Can you explain to the gallery what are all these ripped-up white fragments strewn out from the side of this freshly exploded house, PopMommy? You ought not be calling your children such names, MommyPop. These poor wretches need to be able to survive the playground at recess, where there’s gutlevel suckerpunches readymade to be thrown, like this 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 20 19 18 17 16 OOF! oh ma OOF! like that and like that, I mean for God’s sake, shaking down my head, and my head and my head and my ‘illina ‘illina stil’ down t’ road hipsla-tango!

Don’t play dumb! You know what I said!

                        .

Yes you do! Don’t deny!

                                 !

Oh! Still?

              !

No that can’t be.

              .

No, no. That can’t be.

              .

 Okay, step back, get ready, you asked for it NO okay you asked for it; ASK YOUR DOCTOR that can’t be! Heavens, there’s a big well well well YOUR DOCTOR IF well it’s th’ ‘tte, Top-mayor’s is a . big blown To no no DOCTOR IF EXPERIMENTAL no no that can’t b’ big blown up Betsy be well IF EXPERIMENTAL MATHEMATICS (mathematics? What the hell?) it first is no blown up house that Burry’s . {shut up damn you you asked for this you wanted this}. can’t EXPERIMENTAL MATHEMATICS IS (Jesus, Christ Jesus, Christ Jesus Christ, 15 14 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 12 11 D-d’ Jesus the Christ, tell me please kindly maker what the heaven or hell is this experimental mathematics la stupid la silly la la ala la {eck!} be yes well it up house there is and are no way IS RIGHT . . . simultaneous no that can’t be well good, it is anyway! No IS RIGHT FOR no; that can’t be jawdropper’d yes, well it is not no RIGHT FOR YOU no way uncle Donald no way no-no way  that can’t be well it is = no? What? No! That can’t be  RIGHT FOR YOU? . . . {shut up damn you you asked for this you wanted this} . . . be yes well it is no no that can’t “No” ever b’ RIGHT FOR YOU! So; be well kindly brother it’s no [zaggidda-zaggidda-zaggidda-zaggidda] that can’t be made, yes?  UOY ROF THGIR well it is fucking no no that can’t be well ᴚI⅁H ℲOᴚ ⅄O∩¡ it is no that can’t be “way!” 10 9 8 10 9 8 7 6 9 8 7 6 5 yes, well, it THGIR ROF ?UOY is no no-no that can’t be! Well it is . . . . . . .  as  RIGHT FOR YOU! oh oh oh uncle Donald we said No we said—NO! that can’t be! yes well it is! no! RIGHT FOR YOU? ? taht on si ti llew eb yeht t’nac taht on RIGHT FOR YOU! taht . . . {shut up damn you you asked for this you wanted this}. . . on on ylwols si ti llew sey eb t’nac RIGHT FOR YOU? ɔɐuɹsbnoʇ qǝ ʍǝןן ᴉʇ ᴉs uo ʇɥɐʇ ɔɐuɹsbnoʇ qǝ ɹoן RIGHT FOR YOU! Yes, well it is! And no don’t call me Bunny no more, MommyPoppy, no . . . . that can’t be well Priscilla’s big babies RIGHT FOR YOU? it is by no fuckin’ way. No no no, don’t call me Sweet Pea no more {tangla-teeshliqua!} PoppyMom no fuckin’ way it’s RIGHT FOR YOU no fuckin’ 7 6 5 4 3 4 3 2 1 no fuckin’ it’s -7 -6 -5 (0) 5 6 7 RIGHT FOR YOU? . .oil-painted sailing ship on the office wall looming larger than ever! And, ever so I can blast the car radio the radio car radio {shut up damn you you asked for this you wanted this}hailing captain Nancy so I can blast -3 -2 -1 (0) 1 2 3 and then blast 0 0 0 (0) 0 0 0 the car r-r-radio, all hail ‘nd all hail then ‘nd again and again and a okay okay okay pkay and Dad finally gave way and 0 0 0 0 CHARGED THEM DIRECTLY OUT TO THE TEETH OF THE DRIVING NIGHT-TIME RAIN as ‘e gets his God-damned way again mutter mutter mutter mutter—0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 way/conk/pop/

!

What?

way/conk/pop/

!

What?

way/conk/pop/ way/conk/pop/ way/conk—noooooooooo—

No! I fell the hell out of bed!

?          !

Jesus Christ Jesus Christ Jesus Christ, you DID?  

Ye’ I did, yes, I

did

fall out of bed—

uh uh

Wow but—4 a.m.? So it is anyway. Time to rise anyway. Get up hit the lights. 

—Jim Meirose

Friday, February 2, 2024

Charles Bernstein & Davide Balula, Poetry Has No Future Unless It Comes To An End: Poems of Artificial Intelligence

Poetry Has No Future Unless It Comes To An End:
Poems of Artificial Intelligence
Charles Bernstein & Davide Balula
Nero Editions, 2023


Excerpts from Poetry Has No Future Unless It Comes To An End: Poems of Artificial Intelligence are published in Var(2x) with the permission of Charles Bernstein & Davide Balula.
 
Acknowledgements

Poetry Has No Future Unless It Comes To An End: Poems of Artificial Intelligence from Nero Editions is also available at Printed Matter. The complete audio book is available at PennSound.


Introduction

Poets have long been engaged with using algorithms and computers to create poetry. Much of this work has created novel word patternings that depart from conventional syntax or lyric expression. In this collaboration, we used AI to create poems that move in a deceptively opposite direction. We began creating these poems in 2019, at Balula’s initiative. A training dataset was created of much of Bernstein’s published writings and from this Balula created waves of AI-generated outputs. Bernstein discarded many of the outputs and cut many lines in the poems he selected, but he did not add any new language. We call this “human-assisted AI.”


I Am the Shadow of Poet Charles Bernstein
 
I've been going back and forth
between this place, where I am
the least favorite son, and this
house where I'm most favored.
 
I started to wonder
if it's possible for me
to be who I am.
I know it's not possible
for me to do your reality.
But it's a thing that I feel.
 
I began to see the darker side
of Charles. I had to see myself
reflected in him and to take this
courage to walk into his room
and turn off the lights. He was
a joker. I'm not supposed to be
on the cover of all these poetry
magazines. But his could be my
place, to be in the sunlight, and
nobody would know.
 
I take a swig of Coke
am able to calm myself
not feel completely numb.
 
I had to begin to take some risks.
I figured that because Charles
could be my son, I should feel like
my dad. I know that sometimes I
can be all about him, in the same
moment, I'm getting more aggressive
in my threats. Other times I'm not.
 
Charles just seemed to be there,
always there. When we meet,
he will push me back. I won’t
say anything. This entire time
I’m smiling.
 
 

The Past Is Not Behind Us the Future Is

I don't know what is too much to begin with.
 
Not enough pineapple sauce
 
prosodic
diversity
 
How do you come to terms with the fact that you're no longer a person? 
 
Proselytization
is not the only
finishing touch on the
Song
 
The Stuttering Cure
 
The third way around
is to treat dysrhythmia
as a legitimate subject
 
 
The Study of Style Has Its Roots in the Depression
 
What am I, a brother to Charles, a child of the Great Depression, searching for in a style of writing?
 
I can’t say for sure but I do know that I want it, that I want it desperately.
 
My interest in the study of style has its roots in the Depression, in the isolation of my family, in my disillusionment with the avant-garde movement, in my interest in the aesthetics of the New Criticism and in the avant-garde artists and writers of the United States and Europe. My interest in style is a product of a longing for something that is absent. It is an emotional response to a style of writing that is aesthetically unsatisfying and unsatisfactory. The end result is an aesthetic disjunction that requires a keen awareness of the interrelation of style and function.
 
Style as I understand it, is a social function. It is a function I see in many other social functions, from pest control to librarianship. Social function does not make it good or bad or right or wrong. Social function makes it what it is.
 
The social function of style is to expose the social flaw. To reveal the hidden.
 
 
I Would Have Been an I.Q. Diver
 
If not for the nagging
That a little extra height would mean more time at the other end, more time to spare.
 
The significance of a single word, one that doesn’t even have to be written,
Causing so much consternation among those who use it, is that it
Cares. It cares because it’s bothered.
 
In the dark, the words catch
In the light, they can’t be found.
 
Not even one more step
Let's go.
 
What I
Want is for the end to begin, the horizon
To spill over.
 
 
Story Continues Below Advertisement
 
I suppose you could say I am trying to do
what Fitzgerald was trying to do,
make the human face of the poem
into a comprehensible image, but I
have a hard time doing that with the
language I am trying to use. I mean,
of course, you could go back to writing
in Latin, but it would be much more effective
to try and figure out what the most
common language is and use that
to your advantage. And then, of course, you could
write in hieroglyphs or go to
another language and do a collage of the
words, but for the most part, in this case
how I am writing, I am not interested
in anything more than the content of
the poem, which is to say
the idea that I am trying to make
the human face of the poem.
 
In any case, I think it is important to
recognize that a great deal of what
slates, or turns to a particular
mode of writing in response to a
substitute, is itself not
word but shape, which shapes
the meaning of the poem but
doesn't create it. So the point
I am trying to make is not
that the shape of a poem matters,
but that what is being thought
out, what is being created,
is a kind of inert, even
impassioned, subjectivity that is
the result of what we take for
truth. That is, it is not the truth of
the facts as they are, as we
know them, that is the subject matter
of the poem.
 
What you
want is a
voice that speaks
that makes noises
that mimes being heard
that sounds like it's making love to itself
that sounds like it's crying because it
can't make love to itself.
 
 
The View from the Outside
Is like a Filter that Blocks
Out the World around Us
 
It looks like a sea of white.
 
When you're alone, the words can't reach you.
They're as distant as the sound of your own breathing.
 
On a Leash
I'm with a friend
On a leash
Leopards don't need writers
 
The postmodern state of 
poetry is as 
counterintuitive as 
a frog in ice cream 
being dipped in hot chocolate. 
 
The Absolute is the Possibility
 
Pain is not
a result of
the trauma but
a product of
the transient pleasure
of the present.
The fate is
in the light.


Review

Poetry Has No Future Unless It Comes To An End, Review by Johanna Drucker
JD: ABCs (August 17, 2023)

Wednesday, January 3, 2024

The Extreme Experimentalism of Andrew C. Wenaus (Sections 3-5)

Section 3

Official Report On The Intransitionalist Chronotopologies of Kenji Siratori: Appendix 8.2.3



Official Report On The Intransitionalist Chronotopologies of Kenji Siratori:
Appendix 8.2.3 

Series Introduction to Appendices 1 - ■∞

 

The Ministry of Transrational Research into Anastrophic Manifolds formed in response to the breakdown in relations that followed the Assembly of Patamathematical Micronations in August 2041.[1] Assigned with the confidential “Chronotopological Portfolio,”– which later took a top secret status and was rechristened the “Official Report on the Intransitionalist Chronotopologies of Kenji Siratori” – the Ministry seeks to collect, aggregate, and offer exegesis on the w 1 asemic signals and etheric flows intercepted by the Assembly in November 2084.[2] In contradiction with accepted physical law, the signals, originally suspected to be either a simple computing error or transgressions in spacetime, ultimately indicated a glitch occurring at the atomic level of both alphanumeric form and physical matter. Consequently, it is the position of the Ministry that these signals complicate even the most eccentric models of calculation, measurement, formalism, agency, and representation. Nevertheless, the investigations offer transrational insight into the role that self-(dis)organized criticalities may play in disremembering, dys-representation, and alocalism in the context of the critical artificial development environments upon which epistemic certainties have been treated as axiomatic. After the illnesses and deaths of the first three directors of the ministry, Canadian literary theorist Dr. Andrew C. Wenaus accepted the role as Director of the Ministry; despite his own yet-explained death and the disappearance of his body five years prior to his birth in 1983, Wenaus now communicates regularly with the Ministry in the form of a watermeal frond kept in an undisclosed spacetime intersection.  

Shortly after the inauguration of the Ministry, a special team was assigned the task of identifying the source of the asemic signals and etheric flows. Beginning in 2056, the Ministry made the important discovery that the source of the signals of interest could not be located via distance, angle, or area (that is, the signals could not be geographically located), but were instead functions of shapes, relational positions, and connections. The Ministry turned their research to the field of topology to see if they might find topologically self-similar but visually iconic homeomorphic spaces and surfaces. By decoding the signals into language, the Ministry discovered a repeating pattern of deliberate, carefully crafted, glitch gestures[3] that one member described as “horror, science fiction, Dadaism,” whereas another suggested that it appeared to be congruent with the 20th century genre of cyberpunk or Japanoise. Sending some of the signals back to the late 1990s, the Ministry found that the signals themselves were suddenly being published online and in paperback at an astonishing rate. The author of these works was a mysterious Japanese multimedia artist based in Sapporo named Kenji Siratori.

The Ministry maintains that it is uncertain as to how Siratori was able to intercept the signals and harness them for his own art. There remains disagreement within the Ministry as to whether or not Siratori was, indeed, the instigator of the signals from the future in the first place. As the signals became public, Siratori began catching the attention of certain literary and cultural critics. “Kenji Siratori,” a critic whose identity remains unknown contends, is “a […”]. While the Ministry found these insights fascinating, they were convinced that it would be more fruitful to continue considering the signals (hereafter designated Siratori Signals) mathematically and, especially, topologically. The Siratori Signals themselves are, the Ministry contends, divinely neutral in the absolute sense. Indeed, the signals hinted at something more ubiquitous, axiomatic, and essential than any planetary-bound cultural, affective, or aesthetic activity.    

            The Ministry thereafter turned their attention to translating the Siratori Signals into various forms of data, but their attempts were complicated by two peculiar phenomena. First, researchers who attempted to homeomorphically deform and reform the signals began to report sensations not unlike being marionetted by an invisible xenoforce.[4] Initially, researchers were able to conclude that the Siratori Signals were homeomorphically invariant. No matter how the researchers relentlessly deformed, stretched, bent, or knotted the Siratori Signals, there was something essentially immutable about their conceptual shape and ultrametric contours. On the very day that this conclusion was reached, the reports of possession began. There remains disagreement as to whether this was a marvel or an abyss. Members of the Ministry closest to the project began to experience emergent states of auto-glossolalia and somniloquy. Researchers reported that, as if marionetted by some invisible force while awake or asleep, they would begin repeating 317 identical iterations of the same words and phrases. These utterances ranged from narratives, traceable and untraceable academic sources, unknown languages, poetry, strings of numbers, and even commentary on Siratori himself. This was simply the beginning of the mystery: researchers shortly afterwards began to notice the self-same utterances that interrupted their days and plagued their sleep began to appear independent of any author in the data itself as footnotes. Examining the data logs to see if a competing research group was perhaps playing a prank or, worse still, attempting to sabotage the Ministry’s ethos, the Ministry discovered that the footnotes mysteriously appeared in the logs at timestamps ranging from 5 billion years ago to 700 trillion years in the future.  Secondly, in a few, rarer instances, researchers experienced a faint pulsating vibration behind the nasal cavity, near the soft palate; these vibrations were eventually recorded, amplified, de-noised, and decreased in speed and pitch by 900%. Astonishingly, the vibrations revealed themselves as full musical compositions with recognizably human voices.[5] Determining that the glossolalia, somniloquy, impossible chronology of the footnotes, nasal irritation, and music were not computing errors or software glitches and were, in fact, genuine, they turned their attention to the Siratori Signals as chronotopes or, what they would later designate in acknowledgement of the signals’ invariant homeomorphic plasticity, chronotopologies. Perhaps the easiest way to conceptualize a chronotopology is to consider it a pliable version of “block time” – that omnidirectional version of spacetime viewed from outside reality as a four-dimensional block. In this sense [… …we]ak anthropic model [… …i]ndeed, Siratori seems to treat the principles of superdeterminism as a kind of super-détournement.[6] 

            [… …Th]e chronotopological properties of the Siratori Signals were smooth, invariant, and complex. Researchers who tried to merge the surfaces of the Siratori Signals using Bolyai-Wilson Adhesive modeling software would become severely ill and experience aggressive hair loss. In one tragic instance, Ministry member Dr. David Roden attempted to cut the surface of the signals and instantly disappeared[7] leaving behind dangerous trace amounts of neutron emissions.[8] In response, the Ministry placed new restrictions on the ways in which the surfaces of the Siratori Signals could be deformed. By decompressing the Siratori Signal surfaces and making the smooth contours into sharp or spikey polyhedral surfaces, the Ministry proceeded with the process of triangulation whereby the polyhedral surfaces are divided into “triangles” with the necessary condition that each side of a triangle be shared by two adjacent triangles. By doing so, the Ministry was able to more easily record the countability of vertices, edges, faces, and angles of the Siratori Signals’ surface. They discovered, to their terror and astonishment, that the Siratori Signals’ Euler characteristic was chrono-homeomorphic with the known universe itself. The Ministry has yet to comment on the significance of this finding claiming that the project no longer has concerns of an epistemological nature. Nevertheless, Wenaus has generously offered the following elegant statement that, the series editors trust, speaks for itself and should suffice as adequate for the reader: x(t)=■∞-1.  

-Andrej Shakowski
(Cairo, March 1922)  



[1] The timeline of the disagreements is recorded, with commentary, in Official Report on the Intransitionalist Topologies of Kenji Siratori Vol. 13920, “On [O w1) and other Braggarts,” pps. 6207-6328.  

[2] A description of the nonlinear chronotopic processualism, elegantly modeled by the Kruchenykh-Hysteron Proteron Working, can be found in Vol. 364, Appendix 3.1.7. This negentropic phenomena is not accepted by the Department of Atopic Poetics and Radial Hieroglyphic Vortices and is the cause of its official schism from the Ministry. See Vol. 981, Appendicitis 2.8.

[3] See ----------------------------------------, p. 3---3--.

[4] See Wenaus, Ω - 1 Chronotopologic Workings, (Schism Press, 2023), pps. 347-451.

[5] These recordings are comprised of over six hundred hours of music, ambience, and speaking. You can find samples in the attached CD.

[6] See Wenaus, Ω - 1 Chronotopologic Workings, (Schism Press, 2023), pps. 699-716.

[7] There is disagreement among Ministry Members on whether or not Roden did, in fact, disappear. Days after the incident, several members’ computers were infected with a virus. The virus’ source code included what some Members maintain are transmissions from and attempts at communication by the late Roden. One Member, since institutionalized, asserted that this source code always was Roden and what the lost colleague was communicating was, at once, “petrifying…or radiantly blissful…ontological mutinying in the most galvanic, even crystalline, sense!” See Chronotopological Portfolio Vol. 78.9, “Postmortem Report on the Hyperstitional Superpsychosis of Dr. aaaaaasssaa.”     

[8] This event led to the relocation of the Ministry’s research facilities as documented by Rajakumar (2094).

Section 4

Ω - 1 Chronotopologic Workings 

Front Cover 

Back Cover

Spine

Full Cover

Excerpt

Section 5

The Visual Art of Andrew C. Wenaus


1. Chronotopology 1
Acrylic on canvas

2. Chronotopology 2
Oil and Acrylic on Canvas


3. Chronotopology 3
Oil and Acrylic on Canvas


4. Chronotopology 4
Oil and Acrylic on Canvas

5. Chronotopology 5
Oil and Acrylic on Canvas

6. Profile of Christina Willatt
Oil on Canvas

7. Wormwood Portrait of Christina Willatt
Photography & Mixed Media


8. Shopping on 3rd Ave 1
Photography & Mixed Media


9. Shopping on 3rd Ave 2
Photography & Mixed Media


10. Shopping on 3rd Ave 3
Photography & Mixed Media


11. Untitled 1
Oil and Acrylic on Canvas


12. Untitled 2
Oil on Canvas


13. Untitled 3
Oil on Canvas


14. Untitled 4


15. Water Bird
Oil, Acrylic, Pencil & Pastel on Board


16. Untitled
Charcoal on board

Jim Meirose, Bed

  Bed Enameled, image by Daniel Y. Harris Bed                                                                                               ...